Chasing Ghosts
The magic number for Marylou & I..."16"...represents the day we met…February 16th, 1983.
It was a Wednesday night, pretty good crowd. Nice, higher-end place. I knew the old man, saw action in Europe in WWII. Two things he didn’t allow, was profanity in front of women, or guys getting “handy” with the lady customers…at least the ones that didn’t want to get handied. He’d boot ‘em out of there in a heartbeat. That’s why his place had the highest ratio of women-to-men in town.
The only reason I was there, was because I was bound-and-determined to play hooky from work the next day. I had been working on a drilling rig since right after Thanksgiving without a day off...I was going to have that day off tomorrow, and I didn’t much care what happened after that. But just for the record, I was not supposed to be there at all.
The only reason she was there, was to play hooky from an employees party from where she worked, to escape the advances of a surgeon who was determined to not take "no" for an answer...and Marylou was determined that "no" was all he would ever get from her. But just for-the-record, she was not supposed to be there either.
Let me tell you guys something from my own experience. When you meet the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in person, that’s unbelievable enough…but if you are lucky enough to actually end up married to her…it can take you more than a lifetime to actually believe it…that’s a fact!
Marylou was about 15 feet away the first time I ever saw her, and she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I hoped she didn’t think I was staring at her like some perv, because I couldn’t take my eyes off her. But she met my stare with a smile, and neither one of us could break it off. One way or another, I was going to meet her. I watched her get up and walk to the jukebox, then I strategically went to the restroom.
When I came out of the restroom she was in her seat, and I saw her but she did not see me. Then I put to use an old Marine Corps battle tactic called “envelopment”; I circled around wide to the side and stayed out of sight…then I approached her from the rear. I could not risk her slipping away.
Marylou was a country girl and she could hear like a rabbit, because she always told me that she could hear my leather jacket creaking as I was coming up behind her, even above the music. When I got close, she turned to look at me, smiling with those gorgeous dimples, and her perfume was light but it smelled like Heaven. I could feel my knees getting rubbery. It’s a good thing somebody didn’t ask what century I was in right then, because I would have probably got it wrong.
I could have easily stood there like a dope not saying anything and spend the rest of my life just looking at her; but somehow I still had the presence of mind to realize that I better get-with-the-program-here. “Excuse me, but you are so beautiful, there is one thing I just have to ask you…what is your name?”
She blushed with those breathtaking dimples when she heard “beautiful”, and after about a 4-5 second pause, she lowered her head and raised her eyes up at me shyly, and answered “May-ree-leww” in the prettiest Ellie Mae southern accent ever heard within 200 miles of Downtown Canton, Ohio.
It was then that one of the songs she played started… “Feel So Right” by Alabama. I was talking to her; I had made contact…and I was froze in that spot. She lowered her eyes to the ground and giggled lightly, then raised her head and stood her ground, but still with those beautiful dimples shining-away. “Well…now you gotta tell me your name.”
I think it took me a couple seconds to remember…”Errr...uhh…Dave.”
That moment was the beginning of the rest of my life…about 10:15 PM Eastern Time, February 16th, 1983. I know that because I do not recall being able to feel the ground with my feet.
*
I had been waiting 8-months-and-4-days for this night…from June 12, 2015, "12", to February 16, 2016…the 33rd anniversary of the day we met.
The old place was still there, but everything else was changing around it. The neighborhood for one, changed from one where a lady did not walk unescorted at night, to the new “artsy-fartsy” district with galleries and coffee shops, the latest brainchild of the city fathers.
The old place still had that big rectangular bar that was designed to let people see each other directly across the rectangle (which is exactly how we met!), but the old man had been gone for about two years. The jukebox was still up at the far end, but it no longer played the music of the lovers from back in the day…Starship, Alabama, Lionel Ritchie. A stage had been built atop the old dance floor, where a 3-piece band was grinding out some old blues song, or some new blues song, I couldn’t tell…at my age I didn’t know the music.
Because what had changed the most, was me. What the hell was a 63-year-old guy in a leather jacket doing in this place…the oldest guy in the place surrounded by very hipp-looking people who were all young enough to be my grandkids?
Chasing ghosts. What else would I be doing in there? The young people were all polite and nice as I sat there drinking a Pepsi listening to the band; but this wasn’t working out the way I imagined it would…or wanted it to.
For one…Marylou was definitely not sitting on the other side of the rectangular bar. That’s the first thing that wasn’t happening…but I knew that going in; I hadn’t completely lost my mind. Good or bad? Can’t answer that.
But another thing that wasn’t happening, I wasn’t able to close my eyes and recreate the scene from 33 years ago, just for me. This just wasn’t working like you might expect to see on Twilight Zone or something; not with that new-fangled live blues music anyway. There was nothing wrong with the live music, it was quite good in fact…for anyone who was not trying to travel back in time! I might have had a better chance if the jukebox could have been playing some Alabama or Hall & Oates.
As it turned out…I was not as crazy as I thought I was…or hoped I was that night.
There was no time-travel, no visualizations, no Spiritual encounters…just a half-hour of drinking a Pepsi, listening to some fairly-righteous live blues…and feeling totally self-conscious and out-of-my-element. Yep, time to go.
I had gone ghost-chasing, like I had before, with no success. Marylou was not to be found in the old place, not in body or spirit. I was much too sane for that…dammit!
But when I got to the car and started it up, quite by surprise I could feel the presence of Marylou in the passenger seat. I could feel her say to me...
"You done dreamin'?"
"...Yeah..."
"How 'bout let's go home."
"Sounds like a plan."
*
That ain’t my first time chasing ghosts…and it’s probably not my last. Who of us does not fantasize and dream of being able to travel to the past?
There are two things I have learned about chasing ghosts:
1). It never makes the clock go backwards; and…
2). There is nothing wrong with it...because it reminds us of the difference between present and past.
It was a Wednesday night, pretty good crowd. Nice, higher-end place. I knew the old man, saw action in Europe in WWII. Two things he didn’t allow, was profanity in front of women, or guys getting “handy” with the lady customers…at least the ones that didn’t want to get handied. He’d boot ‘em out of there in a heartbeat. That’s why his place had the highest ratio of women-to-men in town.
The only reason I was there, was because I was bound-and-determined to play hooky from work the next day. I had been working on a drilling rig since right after Thanksgiving without a day off...I was going to have that day off tomorrow, and I didn’t much care what happened after that. But just for the record, I was not supposed to be there at all.
The only reason she was there, was to play hooky from an employees party from where she worked, to escape the advances of a surgeon who was determined to not take "no" for an answer...and Marylou was determined that "no" was all he would ever get from her. But just for-the-record, she was not supposed to be there either.
Let me tell you guys something from my own experience. When you meet the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in person, that’s unbelievable enough…but if you are lucky enough to actually end up married to her…it can take you more than a lifetime to actually believe it…that’s a fact!
Marylou was about 15 feet away the first time I ever saw her, and she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I hoped she didn’t think I was staring at her like some perv, because I couldn’t take my eyes off her. But she met my stare with a smile, and neither one of us could break it off. One way or another, I was going to meet her. I watched her get up and walk to the jukebox, then I strategically went to the restroom.
When I came out of the restroom she was in her seat, and I saw her but she did not see me. Then I put to use an old Marine Corps battle tactic called “envelopment”; I circled around wide to the side and stayed out of sight…then I approached her from the rear. I could not risk her slipping away.
Marylou was a country girl and she could hear like a rabbit, because she always told me that she could hear my leather jacket creaking as I was coming up behind her, even above the music. When I got close, she turned to look at me, smiling with those gorgeous dimples, and her perfume was light but it smelled like Heaven. I could feel my knees getting rubbery. It’s a good thing somebody didn’t ask what century I was in right then, because I would have probably got it wrong.
I could have easily stood there like a dope not saying anything and spend the rest of my life just looking at her; but somehow I still had the presence of mind to realize that I better get-with-the-program-here. “Excuse me, but you are so beautiful, there is one thing I just have to ask you…what is your name?”
She blushed with those breathtaking dimples when she heard “beautiful”, and after about a 4-5 second pause, she lowered her head and raised her eyes up at me shyly, and answered “May-ree-leww” in the prettiest Ellie Mae southern accent ever heard within 200 miles of Downtown Canton, Ohio.
It was then that one of the songs she played started… “Feel So Right” by Alabama. I was talking to her; I had made contact…and I was froze in that spot. She lowered her eyes to the ground and giggled lightly, then raised her head and stood her ground, but still with those beautiful dimples shining-away. “Well…now you gotta tell me your name.”
I think it took me a couple seconds to remember…”Errr...uhh…Dave.”
That moment was the beginning of the rest of my life…about 10:15 PM Eastern Time, February 16th, 1983. I know that because I do not recall being able to feel the ground with my feet.
*
I had been waiting 8-months-and-4-days for this night…from June 12, 2015, "12", to February 16, 2016…the 33rd anniversary of the day we met.
The old place was still there, but everything else was changing around it. The neighborhood for one, changed from one where a lady did not walk unescorted at night, to the new “artsy-fartsy” district with galleries and coffee shops, the latest brainchild of the city fathers.
The old place still had that big rectangular bar that was designed to let people see each other directly across the rectangle (which is exactly how we met!), but the old man had been gone for about two years. The jukebox was still up at the far end, but it no longer played the music of the lovers from back in the day…Starship, Alabama, Lionel Ritchie. A stage had been built atop the old dance floor, where a 3-piece band was grinding out some old blues song, or some new blues song, I couldn’t tell…at my age I didn’t know the music.
Because what had changed the most, was me. What the hell was a 63-year-old guy in a leather jacket doing in this place…the oldest guy in the place surrounded by very hipp-looking people who were all young enough to be my grandkids?
Chasing ghosts. What else would I be doing in there? The young people were all polite and nice as I sat there drinking a Pepsi listening to the band; but this wasn’t working out the way I imagined it would…or wanted it to.
For one…Marylou was definitely not sitting on the other side of the rectangular bar. That’s the first thing that wasn’t happening…but I knew that going in; I hadn’t completely lost my mind. Good or bad? Can’t answer that.
But another thing that wasn’t happening, I wasn’t able to close my eyes and recreate the scene from 33 years ago, just for me. This just wasn’t working like you might expect to see on Twilight Zone or something; not with that new-fangled live blues music anyway. There was nothing wrong with the live music, it was quite good in fact…for anyone who was not trying to travel back in time! I might have had a better chance if the jukebox could have been playing some Alabama or Hall & Oates.
As it turned out…I was not as crazy as I thought I was…or hoped I was that night.
There was no time-travel, no visualizations, no Spiritual encounters…just a half-hour of drinking a Pepsi, listening to some fairly-righteous live blues…and feeling totally self-conscious and out-of-my-element. Yep, time to go.
I had gone ghost-chasing, like I had before, with no success. Marylou was not to be found in the old place, not in body or spirit. I was much too sane for that…dammit!
But when I got to the car and started it up, quite by surprise I could feel the presence of Marylou in the passenger seat. I could feel her say to me...
"You done dreamin'?"
"...Yeah..."
"How 'bout let's go home."
"Sounds like a plan."
*
That ain’t my first time chasing ghosts…and it’s probably not my last. Who of us does not fantasize and dream of being able to travel to the past?
There are two things I have learned about chasing ghosts:
1). It never makes the clock go backwards; and…
2). There is nothing wrong with it...because it reminds us of the difference between present and past.
Replies
Reading this made me cry. I know exactly how you feel. I go back to our first house we bought and just look at the people that live there now and I wonder if they are as happy as Brownie and I were when we had it built. I hope they are. I never thought of it as ghost chasing until I read your journal. I go past his place of work. I didn\'t realize I was ghost chasing. Brownie has be gone almost 18 months but my heart went with him. I have a big house I am selling and I bought a condo where I met Brownie 35 years ago. Oh I know he won\'t be there, I\'m not crazy. I always loved those condos and this house is way to big and I have copd and just can\'t keep it up. Actually he hated the condos. He was born on 250 acres. He liked his space, lol. I think it will be good for me to have a smaller place that is easier to care for. I\'m 69 and just don\'t want to be bothered with this big house. It use to be my home but since he died it is just a house. I know how it feels to lose your heart. I wish you well. One day you will be back with your Marylou and I will be back with my Brownie. Enjoy that bike, nothing wrong with having something you enjoy. I wish I had something I enjoyed it would make life easier. My oldest daughter is dying from cancer and that consumes me right now. Oh the pain of watching it is awful. I pray everyday for God to give me the strength to get through it and to take her pain from her. Please say a prayer for us as I will for you. Thank you, Linda