CHAPTER 1

Joy

SHE WROTE ME first when she said, "It is very important forme to find a man who has your abilities and your feelings for thewomen of this World. When, I read your Facebook Profile, I knewthat you might very well be that special person for me.

So, I ask you, "Can we become better friends? I want to get toknow you better if that is possible and if you are willing to take thetime that will allow us to become better friends or, should I say, thebest of two close friends for each other's private pleasure."

Her first E-mail arrived at a time when I was drowning in myown sorrow about my dear wife's departure because of ovariancancer in 2010. She mentioned that she was still grieving the tragicloss of her husband as the result of an awful car accident whichhappened three years previously.

So, at the beginning of our mutual discovery of each other, wewere on common ground as both a widow and a widower. It seemedsomehow appropriate that we would be ideal pen pals when it cameto our common grief and the recovery process there from.

I was a prime candidate to help her and, likewise, she was asuperb choice to help me with my own pain. Pain had united us and,through additional pain, we would one day part. But, until our breakup time occurs, I pleaded for continuance of our connection. I hada few years left and I wanted to share them with both her and herdaughter, Ruby.

My first attempt at poetry for my dear Belinda was structuredaround my own feelings and I prayed that she would approve andaccept my sincere words to her which were written for her and heralone. One has to begin somewhere and, for the two of us, I beganwith these heartfelt words about my own sentiments.

She replied to me that she was not yet assured. She asked mefor more information regarding my stability. I assumed that shewondered how well I weathered our tropical storms so I wrote herback the following:

Let me explain something about my latest love, Belinda. She hasa Degree in Marine Engineering and she has served her employerfor twelve faithful years as the Chief of Operations. Her work placesher at great risk because she is always riding the high and mightyseas through thick and thin.

Each trip back and forth on her container ship from her homeport in the UK to the different harbors of the Western hemisphereis full of fright and concernment that her World might just suddenlyend, especially during the stormy days and nights for this time ofthe year. What a brave person she is to take on such dangerousassignments and for the likes of others, both Ruby and me.

I used to think that such seamanship services belonged onlyto only strong, stout men. But, but now, I know better. If a bonnielassie wants to do something bad enough, this Auld Tyme sayingwill apply.

She wrote me back to say, "No, that's not what I meant when Iasked you about your stability. I know that you have a strong abilityto resist all dangerous external effects. Every good writer has to befirm and resolute or his novels would never be completed. It is easyfor a writer to quit and harder for an author to continue, each daywith all things considered.

What I want to know about your stability involves the mannerin which you stand against any and all temptations. Are you firmlyagainst alcohol, drugs and cigarettes? Do you ever waver and relentwhen you are in a deep depression? Do you write on a daily basisor do you go for days and weeks without being able to write anywords? Where do you stand on the matter of firmness?

I wrote her back to say the following:

And, for good measure, I added these subsequent sayings, "Idon't do drugs because I believe that my body is one of God's manytemples which should not be abused in that manner." Further, I said,"I am at my computer every morning after breakfast trying to createa new book which will outsell all of my other books. It's a chase thatusually requires 8-10 hours per day and almost seven days of everyweek."

But, when it came to her question about 'firmness', I wasstymied. Do you reckon that she was talking about sex? Or was itmore about my ability to resist stress or pressure? I told her that Iwas as steady as any other strong-willed man and that I was resolutein all of my endeavors. But, I didn't add very much about my lowtestosterone. I am an eighty-one year old man and I believe that I amentitled to at least one secret, correct?

Apparently, she had received enough words that spoke aboutstability, because in her next E-mail, she inquired about 'security'.Quickly, I consulted my dictionary to discover the true meaningsabout the word, 'security'. According to Mr. Webster, these were theassociated definitions:

(1) The quality or state of being secure.

(2) Freedom from danger.

(3) Freedom from fear,

(4) Freedom from anxiety.

(5) Freedom from want.

(6) Freedom from deprivation.

(7) The ability to fulfill an obligation.

(8) Something given, deposited or pledged to fulfillan existing obligation.

(9) Facts about outstanding debts and ownership.

(10) Measures taken to guard against espionage, sabotage,crime, attack or escape.

Wow, was she asking for the Moon! I was a charter member ofthe starving Author's Club and she wanted all of the 'security' that Imight ever bring to our small table for two. Bullocks, my table wasempty enough for only one person, not two.

Admittedly, she was a remarkable woman who could sing, danceand play the saxophone but, I was a gifted wordsmith and very littlemore. It was a hopeless mismatch but something about her still rangtrue even if it was only my deepest innermost feelings. In otherwords, I wanted it to be a simple love affair and not a struggle overmoney, neither mine nor her own.

I wondered what she meant by security so I pushed the envelopesomewhat further when I sent her my reply.

Please, won't you tell me whysome of these restrictions must apply?I simply cannot do them all.And, there's no man who is that tall.

Funny thing is that I am still awaiting her reply on all ten ofthe clarifications about 'security'. I knew that I was treading on aslippery slope so I turned to another subject which she had includedin one of her E-mails. There, she had mentioned another interestcalled 'opportunity'.

Now the same dictionary had very little to say about the word'opportunity'; e.g.,

(1) A favorable juncture of circumstances.

(2) A good chance for advancement or progress.

At the end of the day, I wasn't hiring a maid and, with this awfulDepression of ours, the State of Texas wasn't much of a junctureeither. For too many people it was more like a 'dead end' event. Jobswere scarce and becoming scarcer with every day that passed withthese hard times.

I may be wrong but I interpreted her window of 'opportunity'to mean that she was merely asking for a close companion withwhom she could share her thoughts, feelings, experiences, dreamsand fantasies. For this, I was ready, willing and able to serve herdesires.

But, when I wrote her back to tell her that I was searching forthe same goals, there was no reply. Oh, yes. I did tell her that I waseighty-one years young. It was a stupid move but I wanted her toknow the truth.

I decided to drop that bombshell because of her much youngerage. If she had graduated as a Marine Engineer when she was 22years of age and if she had served her employer, for twelve years,then that would make her about 34 years young. She was youngenough to be my grand-daughter and I felt a guilt trip about theentire arrangement.

She was too young for me so I wept a few tears and wonderedwhy are some men destined to be so lonely? Why me, Lord? I havefeelings and I despise being alone. Life isn't meant to be lived asjust one single person. It is designed for two people who adore eachother, irrespective of their actual age. What matters most is beneaththe skin, is it not?

I hate being alone. I want love. Why can't I have my Belinda evenif it is for such a short while? Oh, to touch and feel the presence ofa beautiful strong woman in my bed. And, to watch her glide acrossthe floor using her birthing muscles with each and every step.

I yearn to hear her sing those old Irish songs that I loved in myyouthful days. I want to watch her dancing across the floor andmaking sensual motions that I could never make. I want to hear hersaxophone renditions of the older songs which are implanted foreverin my mind. Names like Benny Goodman and Glenn Miller come tomind as remnants from the big band era. That would be Heaven onEarth for me.

My first wife was with me for fifty-four years but she sufferedbadly with cancer and several other serious ailments. Has God sentme a youthful angel to watch and love at my advanced age? Is thismy reward from God for taking such good care of my brother andmy recently departed Dorothy? If Hugh Heffner can get married atan advanced age, why can't I?

If so, then that is all I would ever request in any of my eveningprayers. She would be my heavenly angel to worship and caress untilI am done with this dying business. In other words, Belinda couldmake my final years heavenly, dynamic and kinetic, if she chose tobe with me instead of those wild and ugly seas.

I offer her freedom from a dangerous life with great risk. KingNeptune could steal her away from me at any moment so I amdutifully concerned with the great risk that she is taking by sailingthe high seas on an overloaded container ship or a very heavilyloaded freighter. I offer her a calm relief from the stormy seas. Ioffer her a little poem as a special treat.

I sent her my little rhyming poem but, she never bothered toreply. For days after my second silent rejection, I moped around thehouse wondering why she remained so silent. Once she wrote methe most elegant E-mail that I had ever received. But, now, nothingbut silence and sadness were in my house and my heart.

I moaned and groaned for several days before I decided to writeher once again. In my younger days, my pleading words could movemountains so it befitted me to try, try and try again. Yes, I was morethan twice as old as my bonny lass but, I was resolute, I was wiseand I was stubborn. She was worth several replies or different triesso here goes with another effort.

I looked over her original E-mail to study once again whichapproach might serve as my most effective reply. Her lovely wordsin that beautiful first connection seemed to be directed toward mymore personal interests. For example, she wrote the following to meand only to me.

"I am really interested in knowing what makes you thespecial person that you are today. I want to know more about you,your family, your background, your life experiences, your pastrelationships, your goals, your dreams, your personal interests andanything else that you want me to know.

I even want to learn about the secrets that you rarely share withanyone else, I want to learn about you and what involves your tenderheart and vibrant soul. I want to build a friendship with you thatwill be everlasting and like no other that you have ever shared orexperienced. She bid me 'lots of love' and she signed off with theexpression, I hope to hear from you soon."

The writer in me wanted to write volumes of words in mydefense but that could be too overwhelming for her so the poetin me took over once more. Sometimes, the less that is said is farbetter than many pounds of text. And, for me, poems inflame theimagination much better than volumes of text might do. But whatresponse should I take as my first area of interest?

I decided to describe what makes me tick as a writer and a lessthan talented rhymer. If I am a special person to her, what wouldshe be looking for in my answer? How does she envision me? I gaveup on all of the possible approaches as I began my own and verypersonal plea.

Then, I took on the challenging rejoinder of dealing with myfamily and my background.

Next, I chose to consider a reply to her query about my life'srelationships.

Following that, I tackled her interests in my experiences. I said,

Next, I pursued my goals by writing her these words. I havealways been a good caregiver so I began with that thought.

Then, I reflected upon her kind query about my dreams. Mydreams are with me at all times and wherever I might go as Istruggle to undertake my career of being a successful writer. But,what she doesn't know is this. My dreams are about her and no oneelse. And, it's hard to write about other people when you are sosmitten with the special person called Belinda.

Next, I pondered her question about my personal interests. Therewere many of course because she was born in Ireland and workedout of the ports in the United Kingdom. But, none of them seemed tobe worthy enough to risk losing a valuable person like her who cameinto my life when my own lights were diming and fading more, eachand every day.

I was interested in her and without any reservations whatsoever.However, if she did have beautiful red hair and a touching Irishbrogue, I would not turn her down, not in a million years. Everyman who has a bit of the Irish in him longs for a bonnie lass withstriking red hair and and a strong homeland inflection. I did revealsome of my personal interests when I asked her this question.

I did that in full knowledge of the fact that anything over amouthful is decidedly an excess. Then I got serious again andcontinued my writing about my own personal interests.