"From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines, going where I list, my own master total and absolute, Listening to others, considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me."
Walt Whitman (1819-92)
"When I look back now over my life and call to mind what I might have had simply for taking and did not take, my heart is like to break."
Akhenaton (d. c.1354 BC)
And now, the current weather, from some random person we pulled off the street:
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
Yes, Santa Claus, there IS a Virginia
aban-don Function: transitive verb
Etymology: Middle English abandounen, from Middle French abandoner, from abandon, n., surrender, from a bandon in one's power
Date: 14th century
1 a : to give up to the control or influence of another person or agent b : to give up with the intent of never again claiming a right or interest in
2 : to give (oneself) over unrestrainedly
3 : the wild feeling that I sometimes had when life took a joyous turn.
Wild abandon and Virginia Miller.
Those are two things that seem to go together in my mind. I am sure she would be pleased with that.
I guess I was about 13 or so when I met her. She had this wonderful sandy brown almost blond hair, and a look in her eyes that would thrill a guy to the bones. There was just something about those eyes that I have seen in only a few people, something exciting, something wild, something untamed that was always ready to grab you and drag you along to who knows where, and wherever that was it would be trouble.
But it would be that really fun kind of trouble.
I remember one summer afternoon when I gave her a ride on the back of my bicycle. Having a girls body pressed against me was a new experience for me, and she was flirting for all she was worth. Amazing, that thirty some years later that afternoon is still emblazoned in my mind.
I took to riding by her house on a regular basis, but she never took another ride on my bike, she was never outside when I passed.
It was a typical schoolboy crush, and it had hit me like a bus.
But then there was another girl too, an OLDER woman (by one year, but that makes a huge difference at that age), who I was quite taken with. Her name was Cindy and she lived behind us, and she was beautiful in a different way than Virginia. Where Virginia seemed all tussle and toss, Cindy was reserved and classy, bordering on cold even. She was the type that could win beauty contests, and sometimes did.
I think I gave Cindy a Valentines card a couple of times. Wow, I remember how humiliating that was for me. It took me a while to get my reality in line with what was happening around me, and I tilted at windmills for years, doing things like that. It was not that I was shooting too high, I think that I could have pulled it off, but rather that I was curiously choosing the most unattainable goals I could find to try to achieve.
Ah, the optimism of youth. I hope I never lose it.
I used to see Virginia occasionally when I started driving. I think she worked in a gas station where I would get gas, or maybe she just got gas there too. I just seem to remember her standing at the pump.
She ended up going to the same high school as I did. We were both in the French Club and went on a trip to France when I was a senior and she was a junior. I worked it out so I could sit next to her on the flight. I was thinking, "Yeah!"
She was thinking something quite different, of course. Poor thing, I am sure I terrorized her on that trip. But by that time, other things had happened in my life, which I have yet to cover here, so I guess I can be excused for feeling a bit vain about myself.
I have no idea where Virginia ended up. I so hope it's with a lovely family and a husband that keeps the sparks in that wild streak like she so deserved. Anything else would be a real injustice.
Speaking of justice, Cindy, I believe, ended up as a lawyer.
I can't say I am surprised. Bet she's a good one too.
Young people are in a condition like permanent intoxication, because youth is sweet and they are growing.
Aristotle (384 BC - 322 BC), 'Nicomachean Ethics'