In the cold damp autumn morning when the heart grows chilled, memory drips from every needle and leaf along deserted dirt roads. That's where I found myself, ... alone, ... meditative, ... before dawn. I was timidly looking for the sun that could not be found under the mass of clouds one wet Tuesday morning.
I felt the deathly cold metal in my pocket. As is often the way with man, I would me my own judge, jury and executioner. I didn't call in to work and warn them I wasn't coming. I wasn't sure that I wasn't coming in to be honest.
It was a damp and cold morning. It was one of those rains that chills you whether you let it touch your skin or keep yourself wrapped and hidden under layers of water repellent clothing. The road was packed earth, blanketed with fallen leaves, some green, some yellow and others browning. The leaves missed the warmth of summer.
I could tell.
So did I.
You can tell these things as you walk over the cold damp leaves blanketing an old wet packed earth road in the autumn. I can't explain it. You have to have walked alone with little noise other than the falling droplets pushing leaves from trees in the fall.
I pushed my damp thinning hair back out of my face. The hair soaked from the steady pitter-patter of the sky draining to earth, returning to the ground from which it came. I could see my breath in the chill. Sparse wispy mist curling from my mouth, the breath of life--the breadth of life--so fleeting. I watched my breath disappear as I walked down the road.
What happened to Mike, Todd, Ivy ... others? I was washed with colder memories falling away. What happened to us? Not them and I, but us? Didn't we once live in villages knowing the same people our whole lives? Didn't we NOT lose track of friends and family, but know their history from start to finish? Didn't family know family generations in a row?
I kick some leaves, scraping away to the earthen road. It is packed - hardly muddy. It is unyielding, unwilling to accept my footprint. No mark is left other than some overturned leaves that will crumble and be forgotten by spring. Nothing permanent.
I brush the hair back over my head again. The cold rain felt uncomfortable on my balding scalp. I sighed and continued my walk down the road, ... alone in the rain on a forgotten road that time is already reclaiming. I was on a similar road, yesterday. Well, ... it seems like yesterday. Strange how memories from long ago and moments ago mingle so quickly.
Mike had the body of a classic Greek god. He looked like David, the statue, not the scrawny giant stomping boy from the Bible. They are supposed to be one and the same, but I just don't see the connection, though vocalizing it seems a little easier.
He and I liked to mountain bike, before anyone made it popular. The guys at my summer job didn't get it. Why would you take a ten speed on an over grown dirt road just to see the top of a hill that didn't have a theatre or mall or anything. It made no sense to them.
It made complete sense to me. I only had two past times, guitar and biking. We were friends, neither of us had a car and this was our escape from family and stress. It was our freedom.
Mike stopped in the shade under a tree. The sun was out now, but it was cold from the rain. We hadn't seen the sun for days. Upstate New York can rain for days or even a week or two with rarely a glimpse of the sun. We had chanced the weather and gone for a ride in the morning. This was our last outing before classes at the college started. I think we both needed to get rid of some pent up stress. Finally, the sun was out from behind the clouds.
Mike groaned and lifted his foot from the mud it had landed in. I laughed. He left a perfect impression of his new shoe in the mud, and plenty of the mud showed its appreciation by clinging to his foot. He tried to shake the mud off unsuccessfully.
"Hey, Dave, maybe they'll find your foot print in a million years and put it in a museum with some dinosaur tracks."
He scraped the side of his shoe on some stray grass to get rid of any mud that would come off it. I had the distinct feeling he didn't care what happened to the mud after he was through with it. He glanced at the foot print he had left. It was a perfect impression. I thought so anyway.
"You're welcome to stick your foot in the mud, and leave your print for posterity," he said. "They'll think we were part of some primitive hunter gatherer tribe out tracking mammoths or something."
A slight breeze recycled rain that clung to the overhead branches causing a mini downpour on us as we hid from the sun under the tree. I wondered if this was such a good spot to stop. I was now twice as wet as I had been. I broke from my thoughts and replied to David.
"No thanks. I'm happy with my clean shoes," I said. Then for emphasis, raised a clean, though now wet, shoe that hadn't even been sprayed with mud by the spinning wheels of the bike. I had carefully stayed on the weeds and grass so the mud wouldn't end up on me or me on it.
No impressions left, but no worries about cleaning up after myself either. I was mud free.
I looked back down the hill over the recently harvested fields.
"College. I thought I'd never escape high school. Now I can get serious about my music"
Mike looked at me and grunted his agreement. He didn't like music. He was built like a Greek god, but had the musical ear of a tone deaf screech owl being eaten by an alley cat. I laughed to myself. David of old was a talented musician. Mike was no David.
"What classes are you taking?"
We talked as we made our way to the top of the hill by the water tower and newly ignored woods at its edge. The hills had all been bald, not too long ago, but with just enough neglect, the forests were coming back. Nature was taking back her own creations.
That wondrous first week of classes at college came and went. Soon I was asking, "What's your major?" just like a seasoned veteran of higher thought. Strange how everything and everyone changes so quickly when you walk out of high school. Everyone says it will, but no one understands until they've left and all their friends fade and new friends are made and suddenly no one cares what you do with yourself, as long as you don't cause problems.
I liked college. The freedom was great. Mike and I didn't share any classes. He was determined to get into double E, and I was pursuing my musical destiny. Somehow we just lost touch, even though we were on the same campus every day. It was okay, though. We both made new friends. Between AP classes from high school, and lots of hard work, he was out of that two year college in one year.
I didn't see the point myself. Getting away from college, meant missing the experience, the transition to life away from oppression of high school. I thoroughly enjoyed my college experience, more so than high school or even summer vacations.
I met Todd the following spring. Todd was tall, maybe 6' 5" and lanky. All of his clothing was made for people that weighed twice what he weighed. Usually he wore an oversized button down business shirt tucked into an oversized baggy pair of brown corduroy pants. The whole outfit was bound together by a tight belt at his waist giving him the appearance of a circus clown. I often wondered if removing the belt would reveal that he was actually two much shorter people, one standing on the shoulders of the other. I still wonder about that.
Todd and I attended several classes together. He was also a music major. We had a lot in common. We had a great time clubbing, and performing music together. We almost started a group, a band of sorts. We had a great time.
Todd introduced me to Ivy.
I was up at RPI's Field House for a concert. I needed a break from my first days of autumn classes at the 4Cs. It was my second year at college. The thrill of the new experience was long gone, and I just needed a night as far away from school as a tank of gas could get me. Where did it get me? To another school, but at least it wasn't mine. I really like RPI, even though I was interested only in music, and RPI was more for engineers and scientists.
The normal ice for RPI's hockey games was wood for the night. Not sure how they did that. How do you transform a 185 by 85 foot hockey rink into a wooden floored concert hall overnight? It's like asking how city bus drivers shut their doors when they leave their buses. No one really knows. Trade secret I guess.
The warm up band was loud, full of energy and awful. When you know you could have done better if they would let you on stage, it really hurts, and this band was hurting me lots. I'm pretty sure that everyone would have left if we weren't waiting for the real band to relieve them of the stage. Relieve us of them on the stage, perhaps. If the lead singer had any talent, she didn't show it. Shame. She was really good looking. Her attempt at singing was just so painful, I had to rule out trying to get a date with her. I imagined the scene of her serenading me by moonlight and me passing out from pain.
Yes, I was unattached and on the prowl, but not interested in just anyone with a pretty face.
I was kind of hanging out a ways from the stage wondering if people would think it odd if I walked around with my fingers in my ears, when someone pushed me hard from behind. It was Todd. He was with a chick I didn't know. I could tell at a glance she was the type who would be put out at the word "chick". I made a mental note of it.
"Todd!" I pushed him back, none too soft, ... but friendly like.
"Have you met Ivy?"
"No"
"She's in physics with us. She's one cool chick!"
I cringed. She glared. We left after the concert without Todd, and he never spoke to me again.
It's no surprise I didn't recognizer her from our physics class. The instructor was great, so the class was always so packed that you didn't hardly have room to take notes. You would bump elbows with the guy next to you no matter how hard you tried not to. Sitting next to a lefty was the kiss of death for note taking. Luckily, I'm not very tall, because leg room was even more restrictive than elbow room. There was no way to remember everyone in a class that big.
Ivy and I went clubbing and driving until nearly dawn. We finished off the night at a early morning diner. I had breakfast, she had dinner. Then we went for a walk in the cool autumn morning mist.
The leaves were wet and covered the mud on the sidewalks. I carefully avoided getting my shoes muddy. Ivy wasn't careful and slipped on some mud leaving a long print on the walk. Kind of an artsy slash of raw muck. If it had been a canvas, I'm sure she could have sold it. I caught her as she fell, and in my arms our lips met.
I started writing my own songs after that. Yeah, sappy love songs. I told Ivy, she was my muse, and though we joked about it, it was the truth as far as I could see. I had never seriously written songs before. I even thought of performing some solo.
She and I both graduated that spring. It was a text book summer. We both worked the same shift at the same plant, and spent the rest of our time proving that summers should be longer for love's sake.
Community college was too short. I finally got the girl, I finally got good with my own music and by the end of the summer it was over. Mike was long gone. Some school down south. Todd got a job with his Associates, and still wasn't talking to me. Ivy left for Union and I knew my muse was gone.
Her leaving hurt more than the others. If you've never had your heart ripped out and held still beating in front of your face, you can't know what it's like.
I quit music and went into double E. I even forgot how to play guitar. I don't even own a guitar anymore. I assume she got married and had 2.5 kids and a cat, but I don't know. I never saw her again. I never found anyone like her again.
I ended up going to one of the SUNYs. I ended up with that double E degree. I never sold an album. I never married. I never had children. Survival of the fittest, some Darwinist would say. I never left any posterity to remember me.
I looked around. The dawn was past. I felt the now warm metal in my pocket.
But life wasn't all bad was it? I had a date, an actual date date just Saturday. Amy was her name. She was tall, blond and full of energy. She was a bit younger than me, but seemed to enjoy maturity more than youth -- not unheard of. I happened to have more maturity than youth, so this was not a bad match.
I took her to a quiet Italian restaurant. I looked across the table and gazed into here eyes as she looked at her plate. The spaghetti and the fork were dance around refusing to get close, more out of ignorance than some innate desire to remain separate. She had deep brown eyes and straight blond hair pulled back, and just a hint of makeup. I hadn't been alone with a woman this beautiful since Ivy left me all those years ago.
She caught me looking and with just a little hesitation, I looked down at my plate and pretended I wasn't just staring. I felt my face flush just slightly. I was actually blushing. I couldn't believe it. I looked up briefly and she was smiling, openly staring into my eyes. I felt my face get a bit warmer.
"What's on your mind?" She asked returning to the fork and spaghetti dance.
We were sitting around eating $20 dollar plates of $.50 spaghetti, and I felt it was worth every penny. I looked up at her with a noodle hanging from my lips. That gave me a chance to think about what I wanted to say, even if it looked a bit odd.
She smiled at my lack of grace. She seemed to think it was cute. Amazing. Cute. I wasn't sure I wanted to be seen as cute, but it was a start. Cute isn't too bad.
How could this beautiful young woman find an evening with a socially challenged middle aged man enjoyable? There was no way she would do a second date. With me? Not going to happen. Then again, there were lit candles on the table, light violin in the air and something else, ... yes, definitely sauce on her left cheek.
I smiled, wiped my mouth and said, "I was wondering if you would go to a play with me next week. I don't know what is showing, but just on a whim?"
She laughed.
I smiled again.
"I've never been to a play before. What would I wear?"
I wondered if that was a yes. Yes. It was. I was certain.
"I think it depends on where it is performed. Do you want to pick one, or shall I text you when I know?"
"Surprise me. It'll be an adventure."
I hadn't tracked down a play yet. Instead I'm busy feeling sorry for myself on a wet country road. I felt the hard metal in my pocket one last time. Stupid. I shake my head at my own thoughtlessness.
I took a deep breath. I loved days like today. I loved the fragrance of fallen leaves. It reminded me of Ivy, and Mike and good times. The sun struck me in the face, making me squint in the rain that fell despite the light.
I sighed and turned back down the road. I would just show up for work late. No harm done. In the distance the patch of leaves I had already scraped away was visible. It had changed in no way. I was looking at it from the other direction now, though.
I stopped and looked down at the patch of packed earth that I had scraped the fallen leaves off of. I would not be able to leave a footprint on this road. I would have to leave the road, or find a less packed road. It dawned on me that the patch of leaves was in the road's rut. I smiled at that.
I told my boss I got stuck in traffic, and winked. He wasn't sure about the wink, but let it pass. I went to my desk and looked out the window while the computer booted. During my lunch hour I found a local theatre and a play for Saturday night. Amy and I had a great time. At least I assume she had as much fun as I did, because within weeks we were dating steadily.
Six months later I proposed with my Great Grandmother's wedding band. I slipped the cold hard metal on her finger when she agreed to marry me. I told her, "This wedding ring has been in my family for more generations than anyone remembers. I want to put it on your finger, because I want you to be part of that." She just smiled and let me slip it on her hand. Then she cried, and I thought I had said something wrong. She smiled at that and cried some more.
We were married on a beautiful blue Monday morning in early autumn. Our Honey moon was in Maine. We stayed at this beautiful countryside bed and breakfast. We had a fire at night, stared all night at the intricate wallpaper and slept in a classic four post bed. After breakfast we went for a walk in the cool morning fog. The leaves where changing. We had perfect timing.
She wore a thick jacket and I wore a hooded sweat shirt. Our sneakers crunched the newly fallen leaves. We even saw a deer in the fog before she saw us. I was an almost poetic walk. Not bad for a first morning as man and wife.
I held her left hand in mine as we walk and I held up her hand so that the ring glistened in the sun. I smiled, and she caught me.
"What are you thinking about?" She asked.
"I, ..." I trailed off, feeling a bit embarrassed.
"C'm'on," she prodded gently nudging me.
I smiled some more. She was quick. I could have lied, but she would have known. She was much better at the communications thing than I was. Still it was very personal. I took the leap.
"I was thinking about just before we got serious."
I paused and she gave me one of those "go on" type looks that I couldn't resist.
"My mother gave me this ring, like I've told you. She wanted it to be my bride's someday. It was important to her, but with me not getting married and feeling that I would never get married, it felt like a symbol of my failure."
I paused again, and she waited.
"I was thinking of getting rid of this ring because I thought I'd never get married. I almost chucked it into the forest near my house I was so depressed about it all."
"Your kidding."
"No, really. I didn't think someone like you would be interested in me. So I nearly gave up without trying."
She laughed and gave my hand a squeeze. Everything worked out. I got the girl, 2.5 kids and a dog. I'm just not a cat person, I guess.