A fleeting infatuation with a perfect, poetic moment, and a beautiful young man. Enjoy.

The enormous dinosaur statue
looms out over the sidewalk
by the Smithsonian’s
Museum of Natural History.
As I sit people watching,
dappled sun imbues
the grand walkway of the Mall
with the effervescent glitter
of an old movie’s flashing motion.
I notice another natural wonder…
a blond, succulent boy-adolescent,
lounged on a bench, legs out-stretched,
crossed at the ankles, carefree, vivid.
Tousled hair tickles his smooth face
as he reads, alone, intent.
Baby blue faded
denim jeans suck close
to the mystery
topography of his
pelvis. What dreams
conjure his desires?
My wandering mind
imagines the
out-cropping of the
dinosaur’s graceful neck
groping in the trees above
for food to satisfy the longing
in it’s great, curved throat.
I smile at this wistful image,
wishing
I could laugh my way
into those trees
and become a leaf
to be grazed by him,
nuzzled by his warm neck.
Arms folded
across his chest-
a solid, lean torso
arises from his trunk
up away into the light of day and
the dappled mirage of
my fluttering thoughts
back into history and this museum.

I shudder with pleasure
and lose all my leaves.

I like to take the long way sometimes. Reinvent the wheel. Because the scenery is more interesting along the less traveled path. What seems obvious to others may seem invisible to me, and maybe the way I see things might resonate with others. That’s the fun of communication. Not to be right, but to see more clearly. I look for connections. Sometimes the answer is given before the question as I wind along my circuitous route. The resonant questions are what I seek. What does the tree say?

“I’m not lost, I’m exploring.” I saw a bumper sticker with that on it a long time ago, and I’ve never forgotten it. It made sense to me. I have a pretty bad sense of direction, or rather, often forget to take the right exit. When I drive alone, and get lost, I don’t mind. I usually enjoy the detour, enjoy the different scenery. Sometimes I discover things I never could have looked for. As long as I don’t have a deadline, I just get into being where ever I am. But when I’m driving with someone, even a good friend, I get annoyed with myself for being lost! Now that’s revealing.

I grew up in the DC area. When the new Mormon temple was built in Maryland, I think it was back in the mid 70’s, I used to love driving by it on the beltway, but it seemed more beautiful when I’d forget my exit and then see it loom up over the trees, a glowing white fortress floating, surreal, ethereal beyond the bustle of the highway. My existence seemed to open up into another possibility, the bottom would drop out, and I’d feel really free, accidentally miraculous.

When I go to new cities, I usually like to just take off on foot and map it out myself. I might have a map, just to find my way back. But I’ll keep going in one direction until I feel like turning, or if something catches my eye. I still have memories of seeing things I know I didn’t imagine, but have no idea where I saw them. Like when I found a regal, old redwood in Austria while exploring some park in Graz. That tree drew me to it, and told me things in some other language. I knew I was in the right place, that was the message. Past and future faded to a bright point before me in the form of this tree. I never was able to remember its location to show a friend. My little private magic.

Or, when I awoke at 4 AM the morning after arriving in Graz, and decided to get up an go jogging. Having no idea where I was going, I just jogged down a main street until it came to a park. Graz is a very small, dense old southern Austrian city built along a river, so it’s pretty flat. But this park was where the old city used to be, and it’s on a sudden hill outcropping, like a big round boob in the middle of the city. Since the sun was about to rise, I jogged up the boob. I was puffing, and loving it. (the exercise, that is) Rebel freedom. I got to the top, puff, puff, or so I remember. And the sunrise was glorious. I could swear I heard angels, maybe it was birds. I stood there feeling like a king, in the best of all places.

Well, all things have to end. Down the hill I went, along the serpentine path through trees and past benches, past a cute young man, past some flower beds, more trees. Wait, a cute young man? Alone in a park at five AM? I didn’t want to presume what he was doing there. After all, I was in a foreign country. And this was a small city. Maybe guys liked to get up early here for the fresh air. So I kept going. I didn’t get far when I heard a whistle. Yep, it was him. He wanted me to enjoy the sunrise with him. At least that’s what I thought he said, since I didn’t understand his heavy Graz German. (wink, wink) I’ll let the rest of the film run in your head. Now do you see why I don’t mind getting lost?

The other night I went to this new health spa, called “Cedars of Lebanon Health Spa”. I was in dire need of some R and R. I’ve been under some stress recently. With my Dad’s surgery, performing a difficult concert, buying a new (used) car (fun but stressful), being on a high stress committee for my job, fooling around way too much on the computer, I needed to stretch out and just take in some attention. So I went. I wasn’t far from my house. Maybe ten minutes. Parking was easy.

I walked in, and was immediately given personal attention. With a smile. Not just how are you, but what’s going on in your life, pretty much anything I wanted to talk about was par for the course. I felt special from the start. I’m thinking, this is OK.

After venting a bit about what was stressing me, which helps relieve it, I was led to a private room, where I stripped to shorts, lay on a comfortable bed, and got a very vigorous and warming massage, pretty much from head to foot. This guy’s hands could devine their way to the tensest, tightest, sorest parts of me. He used a wonderful pine scented oil, refreshing and relaxing. And I’m thinking, I could get used to this.

After that I was installed in a private jacuzzi, with soft candle light, eucalyptus oil, a glass of really wonderful wine, and peace and quiet. Ahhhh. I soaked for a good half hour, thoroughly enjoying the experience, thinking, what’s the catch? The billowing bubbles tickled every corner of my body, melting tension away. When I got out, I was treated to yet another quick massage, this time with a skin nourishing Vitamin E cream to baby my skin some more.

When I finally left, I thought to myself, this is an excellent place. Quality, class, detail. And the cost of joining was only the promise to return and enjoy more of that attention. Pretty miraculous! Hard to turn that down. Maybe I should read the fine print carefully before commiting.

So, what do you think? Should I join? The offer won’t last forever, that’s for sure. The Cedars of Lebanon Health Spa is now offering the Best Feel in Town, for a limited time only.

It’s funny how we think of the word fortune in terms of money. "Wow, he made a fortune selling his house!" Wheel of Fortune. “She won a fortune on Jeopardy.” Or we think of cookies. Fortune doesn’t necessarily mean happiness. But it means success of some kind. Luck.

I have much fortune in my life. Too much, I think sometimes. I’m waiting for it to run out. Looking back, I don’t know why I deserve all I have. I don’t, really. Not any more than the next person. Why do some people get more than others? How often do we look at someone who’s down and out and say to ourselves “He deserved what he got, for being lazy, taking drugs, being irresponsible, sleeping around, trusting too much, not climbing the ladder, not cultivating his connections, not having the right family or neighborhood, not being savvy, just not trying hard enough.”?

Well, I am guilty of most of those things, and I’m doing fine. And I credit most of that "fortune" to my father and mother, for supporting in me just about any situation. For trusting that I’ll improve, even if I really messed up. For supporting me financially, when I was trying, but maybe not 100%. For opening their minds to the radical concept that their only son will not produce any offspring. For accepting my lover into the family as a son. Why did I deserve this?

I know there are people out there with parents who are less than stellar, and parents who are abominable. Did they deserve them? What if someone’s life is really messed up by their parents? Do they get to whine? Your parents have a huge effect on you. They indoctrinate you before you can even speak! And control you whether they are sane or fucked up or angelic or maybe just confused. You have little choice but to give in, at least until you are old enough to sever the cord.

Yeah, I had trouble with my Dad, but only because he and I just didn’t click easily. He certainly tried, like teaching me to throw a ball or catch one, or to play tennis. I didn’t know why I had NO interest in this, and he had no idea why, either. He had no idea why I threw tantrums and threw tennis rackets around to rebel in the only way I knew. But we clunked along, finding things we could share. This got easier as I matured. When it became clear I would be a musician, he supported me 110%. He pushed a little, too, for which I am ever grateful. I would obsess over practicing, but wouldn’t focus on entering competitions. So he filled out the forms, and entered my name.

As my career flourished, he started to reap the benefits. I won competitions, played solos with professional orchestras, got into good schools, and eventually got a good job. He enjoyed the glamor of my life. But he DESERVED to enjoy it. He had put a lot of effort into what I became. I didn’t know this at the time, but I realize it now. I owe him just about everything I am.

When he and my mother divorced, I thought I would never forgive him for abandoning her. And it took me a LONG time to sort that out. That’s when I finally started to leave the boy behind and really grow up. When it comes to relationships with parents, it’s much harder to grow up.

He visited me a few weeks ago. When I’m at a rehearsal, he sometimes gets bored, so I give him some things to do around the house, if he feels like it. Well, when I came home, he had swept the garage and raked a huge amount of leaves leftover from Fall. There’s no stopping him. At 76, he’s going strong…

His surgery was successful, though it took longer than expected. But he made it through the seven hours under anesthesia. The prospect of full recovery after radiation is good. I’m fortunate to have more chances to show my gratitude to him. (see Sonnet for Frank) I’m fortunate to have the parents I have. I’m much too fortunate for one person. I hope I can make amends for that in my life. I hope I can learn to give others as much as I’ve been given.