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       SENTIMENTAL SATURDAY

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Photo by Dan Chapman ©2001 Stanyan Entertainment Group

A Thought for Today

Kindness confounds and confuses even the most formidable enemy.

 

THE FIRST PART OF TODAY’S FLIGHT PLAN 
(Or THE LAST E-MAIL SENT LAST NIGHT)


Dear Richard & Neal, 

We just got back from dinner with our friend Charlie and I tried to call you. It's 11:30 PM and I'd planned to say to whoever answered. "You have to call this late to find out if you can call this late." Alas the phone rang and rang and no one answered. I don't think I'll take the chance again on this particular evening.

You guys seem to stay so busy that you are probably off with some of your real or faux children or grandchildren. In case either of you have a bad case of triskadecaphobia I hope you remembered not to take out Friday the 13th on each other. Edward and I managed to have a pleasant evening and I'm late even getting a note off to Ken telling him tomorrow's flight plan will be a lot and not a little late. The second part is complete but the opening is yet to come pop, popping into my head.

No doubt you'll forget to say your prayers tonight which means that you will have to go to church on Sunday & then Vespers and so I'll miss talking to you again.

This brings us to Monday and I'm sure the two of you have to go back to get the other eye (one or more) fixed. How can I dare interrupt your rest and recuperation from morning surgery just to tell you in the afternoon that I need my H/K fix? Obviously that's a 'no, no.'

Tuesday already: the run through of the rehearsal of the Saturday performance of Golf on the tube. No Tennis so there will be a quarrel over whether to watch the run through of PGA or the rehearsal of GAP. Of course the joke's on you, I happen to know that Tiger Woods has no intention of taking off his shirt when he wins at marbles. Then, somebody’s out of something and someone has to go to the store because ANYONE may show up for a beer, a bong or bridge. One of four people will win at bridge, you will be out of beer once a certain person who shall remain nameless leaves the house and Neal will blame Richard for not washing the bong after it was used last time only to be reminded by the ever slippery Dick that he (Neal) was the last person to bang the bong. You will make up before 3:PM because at 3:PM it's five-o-clock somewhere (probably Chicago) and both of you will need a drink.

"A gin Mr. H."

"A scotch Mr. K."

We are now somewhere in the vicinity of Wednesday and I feel like a scotch or a gin or a scotch & gin.

Goodnight all, and Richard don't forget to write if I get work. 

Luv, 

Rod.

PS: Do you realize that by the time you read this tomorrow it will be Toby Wing’s birthday?

REMINDER FOR OUR EUROPEAN FRIENDS

Tomorrow afternoon, July 15 at Wiggins, England Frank Sinatra Jr. and the Woody Herman Orchestra will be at Mill At The Pier 1:00pm & 3:30pm. 

In these parts Sunday means Some of the Best. While you’re preparing to sleep warm don’t go just yet because below is another Love Letter Unsent.

RM 7/14/2001 Previously unpublished

Rod McKuen concert and appearance details can be obtained via the link below.

Concert & Appearance Details

notable birthdays

Féte Nationale, France

Charr Albritton o Annabella o Polly Bergen o Ingmar Bergman o John Chancellor o Gerald Cox o Douglas Edwards o Gerald Ford o Rosey Grier o Woody Guthrie o William Hanna o Arthur Laurents o Jerome Lawrence o Jean-Marc McKuen o Larry J. Morgan o Ken Murray o George Putnam o Del Reeves o Dale Robertson o Isaac Bashevis Singer o Harry Dean Stanton o Irving Stone o Terry-Thomas o Toby Wing

Rod's random thoughts Don't give a bad tempered man any help, someone else will always employ him.

The promise is the promise, we seldom have to hunt it down. It finds us by its own direction. 

The tree that stands alone has deeper roots.

A LOVE LETTER UNSENT, IX

Dear You, 

Summer without you? I can handle it. Of course the season will be much longer than it might have been if we had been able to spend July and August in some proximity to one another. But there will be other July’s and many an August waits ahead for us. When I think of all the summers into falls I traversed without you, a little longer wait is merely that, a little wait.

And should a winter pass, or more than one, until we are one, let it happen. I’ll only feel I’ve earned the right to register complaints when every hope of ever being together no longer flood my head and heart as it does now each waking / sleeping moment. 

Discussing our love one night you mentioned ‘eternity’ then added ‘however long that is.’ I don’t even wonder at that term or always, or forever. It is. And that’s enough. So far we have had to choose our shared times so carefully and each one has been more beautiful than the last. ‘Forever’ means nothing. It is only another word. Our always has taken place on single nights or long, long days. One hour of you within my arms is always more than the clock relates. 

I never tire of saying I Love You or hearing it back between mouthfuls of dinner across a table, walking in the street, shouted, whispered – once even yelled in a strange and crowded mall despite the gaze of strangers passing. I do love you and know you feel the same and will till all our days have ended and beyond.

Yes, each time together is better, more loving, more deeply felt. That last night I kept waking after little naps, trying to find new ways of holding you, positioning my head between your legs so that I could breathe you and air in equal measure. Often you would wake and pull me to you if I was even an extra inch away. We slept with you spooned up to me then me to you. I fell asleep on top of you and came awake inside of you. You kissed, caressed me in places never touched by other lips.

Let each pair of lovers make their own eternity, we have ours. It is not bound by mere proximity but when that comes it is the alamode. A summer without you, perhaps, but not in the way we seek or term eternity. 

I love you. I love you. 

Me.

RM 11 July, 2001 2:34 PM

© 1984, 1988, 2001 by Stanyan Music Group & Rod McKuen. All Rights Reserved
Birthday research by Wade Alexander o Poetry from the collection of Jay Hagan o Coordinated by Melinda Smith
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