We'll Always Have Paris

It’s funny the things you remember, and where those memories can take you.

I’ve been feeling writers block this week, but tonight, I feel as if the gates have opened for me again.

I remember so clearly the first time I ever saw my favorite movie of all time.

Casablanca.

It was in the old Sawmill (or Sashmill) theater in Santa Cruz CA. I had just moved there, and was newly 21.

I remember, after going into theaters all my life, with neon lights, red carpets, and shiny concession stands, there I was in Santa Cruz, going to this theater.

When I walked in, the floors creaked. It looked old, and well loved, but still made me nervous.

The popcorn stand:

If I remember right, just sold popcorn, coffee and a few different candies.

Popcorn that had REAL butter on it. Not the butter flavored oil crap I was used too.

They also had brewers yeast to put on it, which was a totally foreign concept to me then, but so was coffee in a movie theater.

I wasn’t sure what to think.

I had never gone to a theater to see an old movie before.

I didn’t really want to go.

I still had my “L.A.” brain.

I hadn’t transitioned to my new life yet. I hadn’t yet learned to love the odd and the funky.

I didn’t like that the theater was old and worn looking or that they showed “old movies”.

I’m digressing.

I sat down with my very strong cup of coffee with cream, and my bag (yes I said bag) of popcorn with real butter, and settled into the old worn velveteen folding theater chairs.

When the previews came on, I started getting just a wee bit excited.

Then came Casablanca.

Seriously, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The first time I saw this movie, I saw it on the big screen. I was so fascinated by it.

I had a crush on Isabella Roselini at the time, and I couldn’t get over how much she looked like Grace Kelly.

I loved Rick’s Bar.

I loved the end, when Rick told Iilsa “We’ll always have Paris” what a classic line.

I loved the fog and the mist (of course I did).

I think I went back a few times that week to see it again.

How many times over the years now have I seen this movie? It never fails to suck me in.

This was a time in my life, where I know I took a wrong turn.

There I was, in my early 20s, oblivious to the real me.

I went to gay bars to dance.

One time I went to a bar with a friend one time, and this guy started hitting on me hard.

I finally told him sorry, I was with “her”, and finally the jerk took off. We broke out in a fit of giggles.

Looking back, I can see a glimpse of the road I should have taken.

I would seek out queer places.

The coffee house I went to all the time, “The Saturn Cafe”, was pretty much of a lesbian/women only place.

I was there all the time. I felt comfortable there, and still, I couldn’t see why I felt comfortable.

I shopped at the organic market, I bought organic food, I hung out with lesbians, and I was clueless to myself.

I wonder why?

I had this friend, Teri, who was a lesbian. I would hang out at her house, constantly, drinking wine, and listening to the blues with her and her friends. I loved it there.

I’m feeling sad that I didn’t see myself then.

Maybe it was because I needed to have MY kids. The kids I have now, and that wouldn’t have happened if I had taken any other road.

I don’t know.

I think I can honestly say, I’m not sorry that I’m where I am right now. The thing is though, there is a part of me that has not yet been freed.

When I was a kid, I had flying dreams all the time, but they stopped in my 20’s. Did they stop because I chose the wrong path?

In a perfect world, I know what I want.

I want to fall in love, I mean really fall in love, like I’ve never been in love before. I want to not be able to take my hands off this woman. I want to talk to her like a best friend, and kiss her like a lover. I want to feel my knees go weak just from a sideways glance from her.

My perfect woman, is not perfect looking by any means. But I can see her soul. She had kind eyes that understand how moody and emotional I can be, and loves that part of me.

I know, when I find her, I will know her.

I will feel the connection. I do believe in love at 1st sight. I know in my heart of hearts, that there is that woman out there like me.

That woman who wants to love and respect their partner. That woman who talks, really talks, even about the hard stuff. The woman who won’t shirk my feelings as nothing but a silly notion.

Who understands my compulsive need for music that stirs my soul. Who is honest, steady, and filled with a glowing light.

Who understands my need to live on the coast again, in my little cottage on the beach and throw pots.

That is why I picked my name, “Old Crone”.

Once upon a time, when I was young and in college, my pottery class took a field trip to the beach in Trinidad, where I saw this little old woman, happily throwing pots.

She lived incredibly close to the beach, in a very tiny, very quaint, A frame house, with her own kiln outside and eucalyptus trees all around.

I loved the smell of the place.

Pottery firing, fragrant eucalyptus trees and the sea, and I thought to myself, I want to be like that “Old Crone”.

So you see, my chosen screen name is not about growing old, it’s about fulfilling my dream.

It sometimes amazes me, that here I sit, in my castle up on my hill, and my husband has no idea what is going on in my head.

Not even the slightest clue.

He rolls his eyes when I tell him I need to write, or that I need music.

He will ask me, and “how many times have you watched that movie anyway?” We are partnered for sure, but we are not connected. Soul to soul.

So I don’t think I want a “partner”.

I want love.

I want unbinding passion.

I need to know that I can love like I was meant to love.

Even as sad as I am that I am not living life the way I want right now, I’m joyous in the realization of what I now know.

I’m learning about myself, and that is what life is all about.

I won’t go to my grave in denial. I’m so not about denial, (well except when it comes to how much I’ve spent on iTunes this week).

I know, eventually this is going to burst out of me. Like a boil that needs to be lanced. I know this, but, I need to wait until the time is right, for me and my kids.

Until that time, I’ll always have Paris.





Peace,

OC