if i live to be 100/high school romance

if i live to be 100......

i think about my dad. a lot. but we hardly ever talk. i wish he had talked to me more when i was a young man,
every crazy dream i had, every place i traveled or dollar i blew, he would have told me not to.

when i was 18, i dropped out of college, and worked to save the $150 to buy a people's express ticket to london,.....
i don't think i ever told my parents what was going on with me. that i had been so crazy,
no.... not doing drugs..... nor chasing girls.
i wish that had been my flaw.

no, it was politics.

the first day at college i had already decided that i would run for freshman class president. it took me over,i became possessesd. i shook hands with every incoming freshman, asked them their name, told them mine.

the day of the election, i won in a landslide. out of a field of 10 candidates, i had twice the number of votes as the runner up.
so it was october. my freshman year at college.
time for mid term exams.

i hadn't been to any class since the first week.
i failed all my midterms.
i tried to go to class, catch up for final exams.....and i couldn't. i just couldn't believe that i couldn't jump right back into the classes and do well. i was humiliated.
i panicked. walked around at night desparate.....sometimes crying, once seeking sheltar in a church,
singing alone
wailing
for 2 hours
and no one stopped me, no one asked me if i was ok.

the church just let me sing, pray, wail, and cry.......


not too late , i decided to leave school, better to leave now and maybe start again, better than to go on like this.

and then my first scandal:

the day i decided to take a semester off..... that is all it really was.....the school newspaper called me. the headlines read: freshman class president.....resigns...will not return next semester....

something like that.

at the time, it was humiliating......all the work i had put into getting elected.
the article seemed too cruel.......
years later i read the article. it was not cruel, only true.
i had been afraid of the truth......no one really cared about me, dropping out...

i remember telling my parents. they were very supportive. why did they let me go??
i bought the ticket, flew to london, never came back?????/


i sometimes think i'll write a book. i have more titles than words...
titles like:
a hero everyday, about being a dad...what does that mean....???
if i live to be 100....an imaginary biography of my dad....the world war 2 generation..

and then i stop writing.

my dad called me the other day. he spoke plainly to me for the first time since i was a boy.
he had been sick.
over the years he had carried me through my adventures....when i took that flight to london,
soon after, i called him for $100 to get me through a few weeks.

each time, only a few times, he sent me money. money for a youth hostel, money to buy a guitar so i could busk on the street.

i took some jobs. once i sold..er..rented..my passport to an afghani merchant who drove convoys of cars from germany to turkey, to iran, i rode all the way to the iranian border, got paid and got my passport back....

one day i realized that it was early may. i was in istanbul. school would be out soon. i took the next bus for germany, then somehow i made it to london.

i don't remember that last trip.

this was going to be my new life, traveling the world on pennies and few handouts....
i was proud that i had lived this way for 4 months. i was excited to do it again.

back in london, there was enough money waiting for me. i bought a people's express ticket, amd flew to new york.

plain old new york.

nothing has brought me more dread over the years than returning to new york city after being away, whether on a vacation, or visiting family.

my father interruped my thoughts.

he is 87. he has been sick.
he is mad at me, at my life. now he wants to talk to me, to tell me to move back to our home town.

papa, it is too late.

if you live to be 100...you will be proud of me. you will see that you did the right things with me.

he says: "at my age, i wanted to be proud of my children, to sit back and think "what smart children i have".
'i have been too easy on you.....'"

i say:"i know ,papa. you are right.'
but i can only think:"papa, i am writing a high school romance. i want to read it to you.

'the couple was sitting in the back, talking....they kissed...
she said "you're sooo bad."
he knew not to say anything.
once this had happened, with susan. they kissed, and rubbed for quite a while. she had also said 'you're bad." that time, he had said: "no- i think you're really sexy. i always wanted you."
but that's not what she wanted to hear from him. she freaked out, and never kissed him again/ so he learned....
"i guess i should just say nothing."
so, this time,
they kissed more...and rubbed....and
she said" you're bad."
and.... he knew not to say anything....
so, then, it would never stop, right?he thought to himself....

because
she wanted him to be bad."


the end.


see papa. i always had it all wrong.
you are right. when most young men were chasing girls, i was in politics.

and now.
i should be comfortable, seeking office or promotions,instead i'm writing about high school romance......