One of the MANY things . . .

. . . that first pulled me to you is the fact that you choose your cereal to promote world peace.

Magical Thinking

Dear Susie, How could we get this close this fast? Magic is the only explanation I can come up with. I love you. Wray

First Dates

I first started falling in love with this woman in North Carolina in the summertime. My mind drifts back there time to time.

A Pharmacy of Feeling*
I am incredibly grateful for my neurons, which deliver both joy and melancholy
Life would be less rich without them
Without a healthy hippocampus I could not memorialize a perfect past weekend
Without healthy frontal lobes I could not imagine a future together
An ample store of serotonin lets me laugh in bed
And my synapses fill with vasopressin when I suck the air out of you
Oxytocin is the chemical of commitment, and I have plenty
My axons and dendrites fire to arouse me
and usually calm me down when they must
My limbic system is wet with dopamine, so I can read the nuances in your eyes
and feel your happiness
and draw on your strength
I am grateful for endorphins and catecholamines and the whole chemical orchestra
that has allowed me to welcome you into my life

*I like your words more

A few fond weekend memories . . .


"If you come back . . ."

"If you come back I will make you a tomato sandwich."


Sunday Morning in Takoma Park

"Shall we meet at Dupont Circle after work for a bite to eat?"

Rock Creek Church Cemetary, September 24, 2006

Dear Susie,

This is just one memory from a perfect weekend with you. Thank you also for the thoughtful gifts, walking to West Side Club, Grey's Anatomy, Kramerbooks, crosswords, Farmer's Market, tomato sandwiches, Jo-Jo-Ba oil . . .

Love always,

Wray

Dear Susie,
I want to be a part of your four-hook life.
I love you.
Wray

February 14, 1763

Dear Madam

Accidents are often more Friendly to us, than our own Prudence. I intended to have been at Weymouth Yesterday, but a storm prevented. -- Cruel, Yet perhaps blessed storm! -- Cruel for detaining me from so much friendly, social Company, and perhaps blessed to you, or me or both, for keeping me at my Distance. For every experimental Phylosopher knows, that the steel and the Magnet or the Glass and feather will not fly together with more Celerity, than somebody And somebody, when brought within the striking Distance -- and, Itches, Aches, Agues, and Repentance might be the Consequences of a Contact in present Circumstances. Even the Divines pronounce casuistically, I hear, "unfit to be touched these three Weeks."

I mount this moment for that noisy, dirty Town of Boston, where Parade, Pomp, Nonsense, Frippery, Folly, Foppery, Luxury, Polliticks, and the soul -- Confounding Wrangles of the Law will give me the Higher Relish for Spirit, Taste and Sense, at Weymouth, next Sunday.

Your -- (all the rest is inexpressible)
John Adams
Braintree Feby. 14th. 1763

Alcoholic Public Health Official To Wed Alcoholic Health Editor!

Nurturance

September 20, 2006

Dear Susie,

I wish I were at Maple Street right now to tuck you in, make you tea and chicken soup, and nurse you back. I'm good at that. You'll see. I love you.

Wray

St. Mary's, Rockville, MD

September 20, 2006

Dear Susie,

It's said in the rooms that a milestone of recovery is giving up all hope of a better past. I'm trying to live by that, not denying the past that still defines in part who I am, but I say no to the fearfulness. The future is way too promising to let our ancient anxieties pull us back ceaselessly.

I love you.

Wray

Sparkle & Wonder

September 19, 2006

Dear Susie,

Do you realize that our first two kisses were exactly three weeks apart, almost to the minute. We hadn't seen each other in between. Yet the first was a decorous air kiss, and the second was a deep, passionate lovers' kiss. This is full of wonder to me, sparkle and wonder. And they only get better.

Love,
Wray

PS I swear now that I felt something special even with the prudent, Maggie-and-Drew-are-watching kiss. W

Bishop's Garden, Saturday Morning

August 27, 2006

Dear Susie,
The weekend really could not have been more perfect. You are very special woman, and I am so grateful to have found you now. I'm looking forward to many easy, relaxing weekends with you.
I love you.
Wray

1209 Maple Street

Dear Susie,
Thank you for making room for my toothbrush. Thank you for sharing your shower. Thank you for not gardening this morning. Thank you for cuddling on the couch. Thank you for sharing your bed. Thank you for feeding me. Thank you for walking and sitting and talking. Thank you for the key and the letter S. Thank you for making me feel at home in your home.
Love,
Wray

September 15th, 2006: Thinking of you, Word Girl.

eric's song

strange how you know inside me/I measure the time and I stand amazed/strange how I know inside you/my hand is outstretched toward the damp of the haze

and of course I forgive/I've seen how you live/like a phoenix you rise from the ashes/you pick up the pieces/and the ghosts in the attic they never quite leave/and of course I forgive/you've seen how I live/I've got darkness and fears to appease/my voices and analogies/ambitions like ribbons/worn bright on my sleeve

strange how we know each other

strange how I fit into you/there's a distance erased with the greatest of ease/strange how you fit into me/a gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs/and with each passing day/the stories we say draw us tighter into our addiction/confirm our conviction/that some kind of miracle passed on our heads/and how I am sure/like never before/of my reasons for defying reason/embracing the seasons/we dance through the colors/both followed and led/strange how we fit each other

strange how certain the journey/time unfolds the petals for our eyes to see/strange how this journey's hurting/in ways we accept as part of fate's decree

so we just hold on fast/acknowledge the past as lessons exquisitely crafted/painstakingly drafted/to carve us as instruments/that play the music of life/for we don't realize/our faith in the prize/unless it's been somehow elusive/how swiftly we choose it/the sacred simplicity of you by my side

Imagine

September 10, 2006

Dear Susie,

John was always my favorite Beatle, both musically and personally. And I liked him best when he was with Yoko. While lots of people resented the two of them for breaking up the Beatles, I thought it was so cool that he put her first. They clearly adored one another and were each other's biggest fans. That's what I want for us. I love the Annie Liebowitz photograph of them naked and intertwined. It says it all, and so simply. I want our bodies intertwined and all our neurons entangled and our ideas and feelings mixed together and our energy transformed into something completely new.

Imagine.

I love you.

Wray

Scheirers Road Schnecksville, PA
Sunday Afternoon

July 17, 2006

Dear Wray,
Thanks for suggesting to Drew and Maggie that they invite me to visit while you were in town. I enjoyed getting to know you a little better and I always love seeing Drew and Maggie. I trust you got home safely and look forward to our continued correspondence.
If you ever feel like talking instead of e-mailing, my phone numbers are 610.866.1170 and 484.554.8714.
Susie
P.S. Remembering you taking my hand makes me smile.

July 18, 2006

Dear Susie,
Walking hand in hand was effortless and automatic, as was everything Sunday, but I guess that's what comes from knowing someone for 1000 years. I look forward to a long friendship. My home number is 202-362-5691. Ring anytime.
XO W

Self-reliance

September 13, 2006

Dear Susie,

I've posted this just as a reminder to myself of how we first met, how much I really have to be grateful for, and how easily it is to get tricked into thinking self-reliance is a virtue. As you know, this hangs on the wall of the Westside Club, the first meeting room we went to together.

Love, W

Apple Picking Time

September 8, 2006

Dear Susie,

At one point in my life I spent a lot of time at an apple orchard way out route 145. I didn't live on the orchard, but Michael and Anne did, and Michael and I had our darkroom set up in the spare room. Anne worked on the orchard a couple autumns, picking, and this time of year always puts me in mind of that. Michael and I were in our amateur photography phase. He was also apprenticed to a potter, Renzo Fagioli, who taught at Moravian, and Anne and I worked at the bookstore.

We ate stamen apples. We shot Tri-X film. It was a calm time in my life. I didn't see the storm gathering.

I love you. XOW

Labor Day 2006

Susie, in her garden, in the morning. This was Wray's first visit to Maple Street. He left a toothbrush.

The Titleist

August 21, 2006

Dear Susie,

I've decided that I need to know you better before asking you to read a book about golf. But I will tell you a golf story instead.

I grew up next to a public golf course, the Asbury Park Golf Course. From our house it was just a short walk through some woods to the #8 hole, a wide 180-yard par 3, with a deep gulley in front of the green. We didn't have much money, so one way we got some was to hide in the deep gulley. We would wait there until a golfer's shot fell short of the green, landing in the gulley, and we would grab the ball and sneak back into the wood, and giggle while we watched the errant golfer search for his ball. That's a pretty long par 3 for weekend hackers, so we got a lot of balls this way. Once the golfers had dropped another ball and played out, we would wait for the next foursome and do the same thing again. Sometimes more than one would hit into the gulley, which was a bonus. Later in the day, or the next day, we would take the balls up to the tee of the 7th hole, and sell them, two for a quarter, to other golfers.

We also played #8 a lot, without paying. It was usually me, my brother, Bobby White and Tommy Nay. Few of us could hit the ball 180 yards, so we would come through the wood with one driver, one short iron and one putter. During the time I lived next to the golf course, I played this par three 1,463 times. I parred it 107 times, and birdied it only once. I wasn't a very good golfer. Often we would get chased off the course. There was a slight rise going up the long #9 hole to the clubhouse, so we couldn't see far in that direction, and every once in a while one of the maintenance men would come tearing over the rise in his truck, trying to catch us. They never caught us, but they scared us a lot. We would run toward the woods, and the truck was often right on our tail, but we knew if we got into the woods where the truck couldn't go, we were free. We always made it, though it was close a few times. The pro and the caddy master and the starter all knew who we were, because we caddied there at times as well. They knew we were stealing and selling balls, too, but they could never prove it was us.

As we got older we got bolder. We didn't want to play #8 over and over, so we would arrive at the course very early, like 5:30 in the morning. Everything was dew-covered. We would play #8 and #9, which put us at the clubhouse before it opened, then play #1 through #7 and walk back home through the woods. We were pretty vulnerable because we were a long way from our part of the woods, and often we had to escape the maintenance men by other routes. We did this dozens of times.

One evening my Uncle Bob and his family were over for dinner, and I was telling Uncle Bob about our strategy for playing for free and our escapades escaping from the men. Uncle Bob was my youngest uncle, much younger than the others but still 20 years older than me. So it surprised me when he said he would like to join us the next morning for golf. He was going to sneak on with the kids, which I thought was very cool, since my father would never ever consider doing such a thing. I liked the idea since it sort of legitimated what we were doing, having a grown-up along. Uncle Bob was a new school teacher, and very poor, so he was really doing it not for adventure but to save some cash. So the next morning at 5:30 we go outside and Uncle Bob is indeed sitting on the stoop with a few clubs in his hands,and we head off to play. Everything went fine until #7, a long par 4 and our last hole. We're about half way down the fairway, when the truck appears over the rise, racing toward us. I'm feeling kind of smug, because I figure we're with a grownup, who will talk our way out of this, so I just stand my ground. But then I look around for the others, and everyone, including Uncle Bob, had sprinted into the woods and safety. I was stuck, no place to run to, and was surrounded and caught for the first time.

The details of my arrest and punishment are an uninteresting blur, because I was so focused on my betrayal by my favorite uncle. It took me a long time to forgive him. He's still my favorite uncle.

Titleists were the most popular golf balls on the 7th tee of the Asbury Park Golf Course. A clean one without nicks could sell for a quarter. Every story needs a title, and a titleist.

Bethlehem Reverie

July 23, 2006

Dear Susie,

Maybe it was because I had just taken a hot shower and was relaxing, but your voice was very hypnotic tonight, and listening to you talk about Bethlehem was stirring up lots of old memories that have been stored a long time. I haven't lived in Bethlehem for many years, but I have lived there four times, under different circumstances each time. I was born at St Luke's (as all my sibs were), and just remembered tonight taking the family car to Monocacy Creek to wash it by the creek (this was obviously pre-green days). I think I might even be able to find Monocasy Creek, but if not would you take me back there? I believe (though this is very gauzy) that my mother and aunt took me to a Friend's meetinghouse near there, too. Is that possible? Then we moved to NJ, but we moved back to Bethlehem the year Jimmy was born, 1962. My father was in the doctoral program at Lehigh, and worked as an assistant dean for a year. That was the year I went to Nitschman JHS, and we lived on 16th Street, near (I think) a big Greek Orthodox Church. I studied Latin and learned to wrestle, and then we moved back to NJ again. Then I returned to Bethlehem to go to Lehigh. After my freshman year I moved off campus with friends, and lived in Freemansburg. We had long hair, and the local steel workers hated us and threw beer bottles through our picture window, and the cops came and wanted to arrest us for underage drinking (only that was not our drug of choice, but they were too backward to know). I also lived in a farmhouse in Cetronia, near Dorney Park. We lived there a whole year and never even considered going to Dorney Park. We did a lot of acid that year, and I dropped out because eight weeks had passed and I had only gone to my figure drawing class and was failing all the other courses. I worked in the Poconos a while, then reenrolled and lived with friends at 425 E. 4th Street. I think it's a funeral home or somesuch now. Then Nancy and I got married and traveled around a bit, then came back to Bethlehem (for the last time) and lived on Broadway, right above St Lukes where I started. I was in graduate school and Nancy was finishing up at Kutztown.We worked at the Allentown Book Shop in the Whitehall Mall in the evenings. I'm still friendly with a couple people who worked at the store, including my best friend Ted, another friend Anne, and of course Nancy and Maggie. Then we left for Syracuse, never to return. That was 1975.

Thanks for shaking up those memory banks. It was enjoyable. XO W

Japanese Beetles

July 9, 2006

Hi Susie,

I grew up right near Asbury Park, in a little community called Shark River Hills. It wasn't a river, and there were only sand sharks, but there were hills, and lots of woods and swamps. It was fairly untouched back then, a great place to be a kid. When we were very young we used to have infestations of Japanese beetles, millions of them, and the grownups would pay the kids to eradicate them. They gave us milk bottles (I know I'm dating myself) half filled with gasoline, and we would walk around the neighborhood all day picking the beetles of the hedges and shrubs and dropping them in the bottles. We got a penny for every ten beetles we "gassed." We knew even at that tender age that these were slave wages, but all the kids were doing it so we had fun. We also had to collect the tent caterpillars, which would destroy the sassafras trees and mountain laurel. We couldn't do anything about the mosquitos which, because we lived next to swampland, were a plague every summer. We just got bit a lot.

That's more information than you asked for. Your image of Japanese beetles flashed me back, like a crumb of madeleine.

Hope you had a good day in the garden. See you soon. Albest, W

Wray & Susie in Duck, NC, in around August 6, 2006

What I want . . .

. . . and what I don't want.

I want to stay in the moment.
I want you in my future.
I don't want to rush things.
I want you here now.
I want to accept whatever lies in store.
I want to work to make us happen.
I want to be grateful for everything we have now.
I want more sooner.
I don't want our courtship to end.
I want to grow old with you.
I want . . .
I don't want . . .

I love you.