Raynine
Diamond Member
- Oct 28, 2023
- 1,088
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I don’t know if you will see this. You appeared on my Facebook page. It could be because I searched for you on the web. I also found (name deleted) who is in your neck of the woods. I do these searches to see who is still above ground. It is morbid I know.
You triggered a memory. We had our equipment set up in the basement of the Unitarian Church in 1967. You mother dropped you off in Keene. You showed up wearing a little gray outfit with some kind of stripes on it. Your hair was long, very Cher-like. I touched your hand, and it was warm. Your eyes were dark and deep, and your smile was like a summer breeze on a winter day. I thought I was going to melt right down into my shoes. You really were a little goddess. You were precociously gorgeous, and I told you that more than once. I was clinically immature.
You and your cousin Linda would be go-go dancers on each side of the band. It was charming. I have no idea what became of (name deleted). The picture I found shows that you are aging well.
Sometimes things don’t bloom and that’s ok. You are part of the early fabric of my life, a learning experience. In 1973 I rode my motorcycle to a rock concert at Madam Sherrie’s. I saw you there from a distance. I was married and and had two children. I wanted to talk to you one last time. It didn’t work out; I couldn’t get the bike over there and I did not want to leave it unattended. I went back to my life; you went on to yours. C'est la vie.
I always thought you were beautiful Jackie, I still do, and I and I always will.
You triggered a memory. We had our equipment set up in the basement of the Unitarian Church in 1967. You mother dropped you off in Keene. You showed up wearing a little gray outfit with some kind of stripes on it. Your hair was long, very Cher-like. I touched your hand, and it was warm. Your eyes were dark and deep, and your smile was like a summer breeze on a winter day. I thought I was going to melt right down into my shoes. You really were a little goddess. You were precociously gorgeous, and I told you that more than once. I was clinically immature.
You and your cousin Linda would be go-go dancers on each side of the band. It was charming. I have no idea what became of (name deleted). The picture I found shows that you are aging well.
Sometimes things don’t bloom and that’s ok. You are part of the early fabric of my life, a learning experience. In 1973 I rode my motorcycle to a rock concert at Madam Sherrie’s. I saw you there from a distance. I was married and and had two children. I wanted to talk to you one last time. It didn’t work out; I couldn’t get the bike over there and I did not want to leave it unattended. I went back to my life; you went on to yours. C'est la vie.
I always thought you were beautiful Jackie, I still do, and I and I always will.
