I'm Clark Gable You Son Of A...

My father served during world war II in the Army Air Corps. On one occasion, his unit was denied their weekend pass much to the chagrin of everyone involved. Dad decided that enough was enough and, after lights out he waited in his bunk for the first headcount, in full uniform with the covers up tight around his neck. After the bed-check, all being present and accounted for, he snuck out of the barracks. Adjacent to his barracks, was a tennis court, presumably for officers. He climbed the tall fence, ran across the tennis court, jumped the net, just for kicks, climbed the opposite fence, came down the telephone pole which put him in the alley next to the camp.
He avoided detection,and went into town. As I recall, he had a few drinks with a lovely young girl, said his goodbyes, and proceeded in the predawn hours to make his way back through town to the alley, climbed the phone pole, went up and over the fence onto the tennis court. Once again he jumped the net, just for kicks, and scaled the fence adjacent to his barracks, where upon he heard a stern voice shouting from behind, "HALT! WHO GOES THERE"... He froze for a moment, and replied,' I'm Clark Gable You Son Of A Bitch"...And ran around the rear of his barracks, snuck back inside and got into his bunk, still in uniform, and pulled the covers up to his neck.
Moments later the doors flew open, the lights came on, and two M.P.s burst into the barracks and commanded, "NO ONE MOVE AN INCH".
No one did. And after a brief head count, all being present and accounted for, left in a huff, and all was quiet again.
Now, every time I see Clarke Gable, I can't help but chuckle to myself picturing Dad and that story.

Holden Caulfield...

As a child my father often used to compare me to Holden Caulfield, the protagonist in the J.D Salinger book The Catcher In The Rye. In the book Holden Caulfield was given to imaginative speech,and shall we say, tall tales. On one occasion, when I was 6 years old, I remember going on a long walk with my father. We often took ridiculously long walks, which I both enjoyed, but found exhausting at the same time. It was Autumn, and the leaves were falling. At one point in our walk we came upon two Nuns and a class of  grade school children.
As we grew closer to the group, I let go of my fathers hand, and collapsed on the cement. The Nuns and the children gathered around, and one of the Sisters Asked me, "Little boy, what is wrong? Are you hurt?".
I looked up at her,massaging my temples with both hands, and replied, " My electronic brain is not functioning properly." The children burst into hysterics, laughing uncontrollably.    

Dreams Of You...

I Still Dream About Her.After All These Years, There She Is Sitting Across the Table From Me Like Nothing Ever Happened. Like She Never Broke My World. Her Auburn Hair Hanging Gently Across Those Hazel Eyes. The Warmth Of Her Voice Wrapping Itself Around My Very Being...I Can Feel Her In My Pulse. The Light Shines Through The Same Window I Looked Out Of All Those Years Ago, Silently Illuminating Everything In The Room In That Almost Cinematic Quality. I See My Things In The Adjacent Room, And Wonder How I'll Get Them Out Again. Who Will Help Me Leave While She's Away On Some Errand. What's More, Would I Be Able To Bring Myself To Leave Again, When Just The Sight Of her Fills My Being With That Same Old Flood Of Emotions. What If She Touched Me..Would I Die? Or Just Wake Up Again, Angry With Myself That I Had Felt All This For Someone Who No Longer Knows I Exist...If She Ever Did. Once My Wife...But Yet A Stranger...She Knew How To Be Intensely Intimate, Without Taking Any Of It Personally. The Ice Queen. The Perfect Combination Of Movie Star, And Mercenary. I Quietly Thank God For The Alarm Clock, As I Awake, A Single Tear Comes To My Eye.
And Once Again She's Gone These 13 Years, And I Can Take Comfort In That. Until The Next Time.

                   Greetings,
                                  At Last I Have Chosen To break My Silence, And Finally Share My
                    Thoughts And Dreams With The Sea Of Ears.
                                  It Occurs To Me, That Introductions Are In Order.
                                  I Am A Warrior Poet. A Singer Of Songs. A Hopeless Romantic, Brought
                   To My Knees By Love Gone Wrong. An Observer.
                                  I See Myself As The Narrator, Rather Than The Star Of The Movie.
                                  Watching...Recording...Voicing My Observations. Bringing My Perspective
                    To The Table, For Better Or For Worse.
                                  Voicing Recollections. Perspective. 
                                   I Am Not Political. I Am Not Competitive. I'm Just As Happy To Watch
                    Someone Else Do Well, Always Hoping I Will Have My Turn.
                                  I  Am A Dreamer Forced To Live In A Realist's World. A Lover, And A
                    Writer.
                                  Looking Forward To The Privilege Of Entertaining You, Perhaps Amusing
                    You, And Maybe If I'm Fortunate Enough, To Inspire You, And Encourage You.
                                  Welcome One And All To Spartacus Speaks.
                                   I Am Your Host.

                                                                                                      Chezwa Zee