This picture brought up all sorts of emotions. it was half a lifetime ago, but I’m not sure I ever truly got over–not him–but the relationship. It wasn’t picture-perfect
My sister asked if he was the love of my life. I had to think which means he probably wasn’t but I don’t know who was.
In dreams I’m 30 again but live alone or with somebody not him. Somebody who thinks the best is yet to come. Somebody who wants to grab life and shout “I’m here! I’m young and willing to do whatever it takes to make it.”
In dreams I’m not worshiped but loved for who I am. Imperfections and all. In dreams the boy is more stable than I am, and understands that my work is important to me. That my tantrums are truly meaningless–and hell, if he wasn’t so miserable would I have been?
In dreams the boy is as funny or funnier than he was and definitely as funny or funnier than I could be. In dreams he could check my sarcasm at the door. I’m so embarrassed when I remember how sarcastic I was an how much people loved that trait.
In dreams I do my 20’s and 30’s over. I loved them so much but see all the mistakes I made now. I wish we had second chances but we only have the present and hopefully the future.
In dreams I wasn’t perfect; I was me but whoever the guy was he loved me anyway.
•••••••••••••••••
Jeffrey is the person I called Zachary. We met at that bar–Folk City’s–not that day–I know from my clothes. Jeff Ampolsk–that was his name, only I called him Jeffrey–will go down in “history” for telling his friend Lucinda Williams to submit a demo to Moses Asch of Folkways. I found a tape of traditional songs Lucinda made in 1978. I don’t have a tape player and have never been sure what to do with it. Jeffrey lives on in the Smithsonian Folkways collection. It makes me laugh to think I had a boyfriend who ended up somewhat akin to Archie Bunker’s chair–it too is in the Smithsonian–always my favorite museum(s).
He had two albums out, on Folkways before he was 25. At 27 he thought he was a failure. I was always trying to pull him up. To make him understand that we had a long life ahead of us. In many ways I’m the eternal optomist who believes so, or too, hard in tomorrow. I couldn’t make him see joy in life, and stopped trying.
I wish we had known what our problems were. I suspected what his were. He refused to believe he had any. I’m sure he knew under the bravado. Once he made me apply for a MacArthur Award for him. I was totally embarrassed but…He thought the world owed him much so I worked to support us. Then I woke up….
There’s much more but I sound like such a damn shrew. And there was so much wonderful about him but it’s so hard to remember the good because forever after I couldn’t love with the same innocence or joy. And there was a time I loved him very much and our life was filled with happiness.
In dreams I wasn’t perfect; I was me but whoever the guy was he loved me anyway.
I think most people dream of this. The lucky ones have it turn into reality.
But for dreams who would we be?
He looks like Paul Simon.
Your life is more than worthy a novel miss pia.
This is one of your best posts ever, in my opinion. You don’t sound like a shrew at all. The in dreams part was beautiful. And the last part was so well-written. Real words about a real life relationship.
Loved this: “In many ways I’m the eternal optomist who believes so, or too, hard in tomorrow.”
That whole paragraph really was perfect.
Wow this was a great post. I agree with Cooper that your life is very interesting!
‘I’m so embarrassed when I remember how sarcastic I was an how much people loved that trait.’
I find this interesting… why are you embarrassed about it?
I have been examining my life lately and, in looking in the proverbial mirror, am so scard of the future. In my mind I am that 30 year old that “wants to grab life and shout “I’m here! I’m young and willing to do whatever it takes to make it.”… but I am no longer 30 and I wonder how many years I have left before I no longer care to do whatever it takes… I think I am over analyzing life, but I am feeling so unsettled lately. Like I just want to run away. Not from what I have as much as to starting something new. Nothing is wrong with what I have (ok some things are, but nothing big)… I know… smacks of another midlife crisis!
As promised I am working my way through these posts.
I have to say I love your ‘voice’. It is intimate and draws the reader into the words very readily. I also admire your honesty.
I do have one thought which i notice someone else has also mentioned.
‘I’m so embarrassed when I remember how sarcastic I was an how much people loved that trait.’
I am well known for my sarcasm. My friends actually seem to enjoy it. I don’t do it to amuse them. It is simply a part of who I am. I wouldn’t change it for that reason.
Your sentence implies that you are no longer that way but I do not understand why you are embarassed by how you were. Is it because you do not like what you see when you look back, because you prefer who you are now or for some other reason?
Apologies if this seems a little ‘nosy’ and I appreciate that you may not want to speak further on this. It happens to be one of the things that interests me about people, this embarassment about what is in our past and that is why I ask.
i knew jeff…we recorded at folkways at the same time… i always thought he was a GREAT songwriter and performer.
i wish i had spent more time with him.
–gary
when I knew Jeff, i was susie anderson. i respected him and liked him. we “dated” awhile. i think it was in about ’77 or ’78. i lived in new orleans and jeff played at UNO, our local college. that’s where i met him, singing god, guts, and guns. he called me late one night from NY. told me about his current life. i looked him up ’cause i was curious about what happened to him.
I knew Jeff and thought he was wonderful. I dated him and I was interested in so many young men at the time that I just moved on. I still have the copy of Gun, Guts and Glory he gave me. He shared an apartment in the East Village and I lived in the West Village on Bank Street. I believe I started to date one of his roommates…that memory was foggy…but then started dating Jeff again. I was about 24 and it seems like yesterday. One of he problems I had was I did not really like his music, sorry but it is the truth. Memories, amazing! He was a very romantic and giving guy.
I was close to Jeff in the early 70’s in New Orleans. His suicide had an impact on me that changed my life.I visited his grave in 2000 and still remember him well. He was never going to settle for anything ordinary.He was fun to talk to and hang out with back then.
Thank you for your remembrance of Jeff. I knew him as a cousin. That is to say, our mother’s were sisters. I lived about 15 min from Jeff at the end. He and I spoke a few days before his death. He was happy. I was later told that his happiness may have been because he had resolved to end it and he was relieved. I read some of the work that he composed over the last couple of years of his life. He was brilliant, creative, and bitter. His stream of consciousness was a wild river, without an outlet. The Nashville music business was not kind to him. He was post-mature by the time he arrived. I think the burden of genius and unfulfilled promise was too much. I remember Jeff with admiration, fondness, and frustration.
Jeff and I were good friends back in the 70’s and early 80’s. In fact he recorded my song “Drove my Baby” on his second album. I took Jeff to Nashville where I had a couple contacts and we were received by many producers on Music Row. Later we were room-mates in the East Village on East 5th Street.
Jeff was a hell of a song writer – a pretty good singer – but not much of guitarist. He had keen wit an ear for melody, and could see through the veil of illusion. I even based a screenplay on some of his antics. We lost touch when I left the City. He was a lot of fun but not always the best room-mate..
I am saddened to hear that he took his own life. With a little more luck he could have had a great career. Rest in Peace, Shalom – Benny