Foot Prints on The Beach

There it was, my very special beach in the quiet serene cove. It was a quiet warm morning blending the massage of soft warm sand under my feet with the song of gentle metronome waves caressing on that same sand. From high above came the distant melodic call of gulls gliding on the salty wind in search of food or a mate between the beach and nearby cliff to the south. I was blessed this time because of it being a weekday. Not another soul was in sight. It was just nature and me communing together.

I laid down on my beach towel with my back to the sun so I could turn my head and listen to the earth’s steady hum coming from deep within it’s mantel.

I don’t know how long it was before I drifted off but it couldn’t have been too long because of how relaxed the surroundings acknowledged my existence there and accepted me as one of them.

I dreamt I had heard a woman’s voice from somewhere beyond the waves. Her voice was so familiar and each syllable spoke to my soul about so many things. “Where had I been for so long?” “Why had I abandoned her?” “Had I found another mistress?” “Why wasn’t Cali, my Boxer dog with me?” The questions didn’t stop until I felt more than heard a gentle sobbing. Without thinking, I arose and rushed out into the perpetual breaking waves until I could swim. Then I repeatedly tried to dive to the depths in search of the source of the voice I had heard and more importantly felt with my soul. With my clothes now soaked with salty brine, I eventually tired and felt weaker by the moment. I recall a sense of surrender as I just stopped treading water and slowly sank toward the bottom. It was then I had the sensation of a large feminine hand reaching up and enfolding my body into its palm and lovingly drawing me downward. The last words I heard were, “You are so very loved and I missed you”.

Suddenly I felt deathly cold as my body snapped back into consciousness and I found myself deeply sobbing. I realized I had been alone all this time because there was not a soul in sight from the beach to the road. It was then I realized I was soaking wet and when I sat up I was shocked and in awe to discover a single line of footsteps leading from the waves and sand smoothed and compacted by those waves leading to my beach blanket. There was only one set traveling in one direction. Had my mistress, the Pacific Ocean, rescued me and brought me back. Had I actually gone into the water or was it simply my spirit soul.

How much of it was real and how much of it was all in my mind? And who made those footprints in the sand? I’m an Agnostic so I can’t accept they belong to God.

Gary R. Cramer

4/28/16

If You Were By My Side

If you were by my side I could make a snow plow drawn by a mule take us to the moon fueled just with the love I have for you. Then we would set our sights on another galaxy that could maybe contain the love I have waiting for my Sweet Queen. I'd sprinkle the sun with the tears of happiness I have from being with you and it would create a whole new world of blossoming inhabitants that now would know what the word love really means.

Then... I wake up alone without you yet again by my side in bed. I'd realize how lonely life is without you. I curl up into a ball of horrible misery. Dwelling on some of the most happiest moments of my life spent with you by my side touching my very existence and yes; making me a better man but still knowing it is in the past. I continue to ponder what I did wrong to lose you on this life’s path. I close my eyes and dwell in the memories of the smell of your body, the sound of your breath, the touch of your skin and the moistness of your inner self and the sweet softness of those oh so desirable lips of yours. THEN, and only then, I rise above the sun and proudly proclaim to the universe YES! I do love this woman and I don't care how much it hurts. I can't help myself. I crave all of her, her smell and taste in my mouth to inhale into my soul where together we would drift into oblivion beyond reach of all inhabitants of the universe in bliss. We would look down on all the stars and planets and decide together how to arrange them to make you the happiest we could achieve. I embrace you like you have never been held and all the gods would proclaim YES!!! This is what a man’s love for a woman looks like in the purest form from his very soul and being...

I would yet again awake without you; knowing no man or God could EVER love you as much as I do. And with a tear in my eye for you, I drift off to sleep where I might once again embrace you in my dreams with all of my existence and being knowing I had offered you all of my world. And that apparently is what my legacy is; not enough! It is to know I have been graced by your presence; the touch of your hand, the sound of your deep breathes and moans in my ear in the heat of passion in the night or day; the sighs of contentment as we together drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms totally spent and satisfied to share dreams and ambitions. That is the only drive I have left in this life. I must seek out and find it again with another woman. I have to try to feel whole and complete. And when a whisper from deep in my being tells me, "Gary, you have been to the peak, “The Summit”. All else that you find will be of lesser quality and satisfaction". I will not listen to that voice because the day I stop believing and searching in my quest for such love, they can dump my ashes to sink into the bowels of the Pacific Ocean to wander endlessly knowing it was still all worth it.

I have to concede that what I had to offer you was not enough. I have to try to move on believing another lady could match what you have done to and for me and even surpass that benchmark. To my life. To my past. To my future I pledge a never ending quest. Just know I will always love you as if you were a part of my self and being. Each night as I try to fall asleep alone, I will always reflect on your presence beside me and know I have been blessed to know you and I love you! Thank you for sharing your life with me.

To that lady in question, I’m coming!

Gary R. Cramer

July 17, 2010

Return Trip Home 5/8/18

So the day before I planned to depart my brother’s home in Riverside for Sonoma we are watching TV when he casually mentions if I don’t like driving through Los Angeles on my trips to and from Riverside why don’t I drive through the pass. Then take the turn off for Palmdale to “The” 58 and into Bakersfield thus avoiding Los Angeles and The Grapevine on “The” I-5. I had looked at the map over the years and felt this was much too many added miles to get from Sonoma to Riverside. But what the heck, I hate driving in SoCal and especially around Los Angeles.

Now mind you, I’ve been driving to see my brother and his SoCal family for over 50 years. All that time to the best of my memory he has not brought up this subject. I asked him what pass and he said up “The” I-15 to “The” 395 (I put quotation marks around “The” because this seems to be a tradition only of Southern California residents to start all highways with the word The.)

[It all has to do with how long freeways have been a part of the Southern Californian landscape. When the Arroyo Seco Parkway opened between L.A and Pasadena in 1940, it was the first freeway in the West (New York already had a few). But outside of Los Angeles and New York City, many places didn’t get highways until Eisenhower launched the Interstate Highway system in 1956.

By the time the rest of the country started building highways, L.A. already had several local freeways. They all had local names that described their route, like “the San Bernadino Freeway” or “the Ventura Freeway.” Besides, certain freeways encompassed multiple route numbers—the Hollywood Freeway was both Route 66 and 101, depending on where you were along it.

In 1964, California simplified its numbering system so the highways only had one route number each, but the linguistic pattern was already set. Eventually, people began to replace the descriptive names like the Harbor Freeway with route numbers, but it was still the 110, not 110.]

At any rate, I departed around 0930 the next morning and proceeded to “The” 61 North bound. I spent the next 90 minutes creeping in the infamous SoCal freeway traffic, that seems to me a factor down there 24 hours a day and NOT just during morning and evening commute times, a total of about 20 miles and I was now on “The” I-15. As a calming effort I turned on my Bose Bluetooth speaker and I’m broadcasting some of my favorite tunes thru out my car and out all the open windows to share my great taste of music and singing with my fellow road travelers. Most of which smile and appear to be enjoying. During this time the temperature is rising both outside (and inside due to my frustrations). I decided to put some suntan lotion on my left arm and leg to avoid getting sun burned. Sitting in traffic I shake the bottle of suntan lotion to mix it, remove the cap, invert the bottle and gently squeeze it. Nothing! So I increase the pressure and suddenly I’m holding “Old Faithful” as it erupts lotion all over my lap, drivers side door and is slowly dripping down the outside of my car. My lap is soaked and it looks like I have had a personal emergency problem. So I in turn erupted and started cursing the suntan lotion bottle while trying to mop up the mess. Meanwhile all the people in both neighboring lanes are staring at me and those on the left side are wondering what fluids just came out my drivers window and is dripping down the outside of my door while I’m making rapid motions with my right hand in my lap and making loud sounds all red in the face…

OK, I’m calmed down now and the traffic finally begins to move. At one point while stopped I decide to refill my travel mug with more coffee, AKA Morning Go Juice, from the No Name thermos my ex-wife gifted me. This thermos has been a mystery each time I travel with it because it has an “Open” and “Close button combination on top of the screw on lid. Neither seems to do anything and in veritably the thermos leaks. And I’ve often wondered if Beth gave it to me for just that reason as a joke. I’ve never tried to figure the problem out because I use it so seldom and by the time I get to my destination I forget to look into it. So while stopped in traffic minutes on end I partially refill my travel mug, replace the thermos top and I’m reminded of the leak problem. Sooo what the hell, I’m not going anyplace so I decide to investigate the Open/Close buttons by taking the whole screw on lid apart. I think I see the problem and put it all back together and close the thermos. Now mind you, I’m still in a bit of a state due to my suntan lotion soaked lap and the remaining dripping lotion on my door. Not thinking in a CYA mode, I absentmindedly turn the thermos upside down while holding it directly over my shorts and lap. YUP, it happily not just leaked but poured hot coffee all over my lap. I’m yelling again inside my car while trying to stop the burning sensation and once again my lane neighbors are watching my frantically jump all over the seat while trying to raise my shorts off my skin. Some of these people appear confused and concerned as to whether they should take videos, laugh or call the CHP for obscene behavior in public. And some are trying to get their children in the back seat to look elsewhere…

Now traffic is thankfully moving past a minor accident on the right side of the freeway and to reduce my own embarrassment away from my two disasters I roll down my passenger window and loudly proclaim the tailgater an asshole. NOW I’m feeling much better and I’m entering “The Pass”. Life is good again and I’m thinking about my brother’s directions while slipping into a relaxed driving mode and eating left over deep fried zucchini sticks from last nights dinner. Slowly out of my side view mirror I see a double line of single headlights approaching from the rear in the fast lane. I instantly recognize this pattern and eagerly roll down my window to engulf my audio senses in the orgasmic sound of a passing troop of Harley Davidson motorcycles. I’m in a heavenly place filled with memories of riding my own various bikes from time to time and the grand sense of camaraderie when cruising with fellow bikers that aren’t 1%’s. As the last of them slowly advance I glance up and see an exit sign for Palmdale. Oh crap, I’m further along than I thought, so I carefully but with a goal in mind cross a couple of lanes and exit the freeway. Very pleased with my driving ability I follow the signs to Palmdale. After about 15 minutes I realize there is very little traffic and I seem to be surrounded by desert dwellings that look like remnants from past atomic bomb tests or for movie sets from The Walking Dead… Then I realize I’m NOT on “The” 395 but instead on “The” 138. But I don’t panic because after passing thru various little villages with names I’ve never heard of and even at one point passing a sign declaring I’m near The Devils Punchbowl… I’m pretty sure I’m headed for Palmdale even without the help of “The” 395. But not to worry because I have not only the GPS in my trusty Lexus RX400H, but also a backup GPS in my Apple iPhone 6. Just to be on the safe side I program both of them for 4900 Panama Ln. in Bakersfield as a CYA move. And to my dismay they are contradicting each other.

Apparently in the spending cuts of our idiot California politicians Cal-Trans has deemed it acceptable to reduce the use and expenditure of traffic direction signs in less populated areas like I’m currently driving. But I’m pretty sure I’m in Palmdale and feeling safe and sound. THEN came the “round-a bout” that the people around me have never seen before, aren’t sure if they should stop, speed though, look for aliens or just plane park in the middle of the road. AND there are no signs to indicate which way to Bakersfield. But much to my dismay my speakers are now juggling my music, the Lexus AND my iPhone inputs all at once. It’s to the point that I’m almost positive Ray Charles, during his rendition of God Bless America told me to turn left in 300 feet. So I did and now I’m even more lost and confused and cussing out Ray.

Not to worry, I see an 18 wheeler up ahead pulled over to the side of the two lane road next to the fence of a housing project so I follow suit and pull in behind him but not so close as to worry him or her. I’m trying to pull up maps on my car screen and my iPhone and no matter how hard I try I’m not getting a warm comfy feeling I’m finding out where I am at OR which way to go because the screens are so small. Suddenly I become aware of a car stopped next to mine and I notice the truck is now gone exposing a “Do Not Stop or Park” sign with arrows in both directions. Oh no! As I return my gaze to the car along side mine I realize it’s a local police officer and she is trying to tell me something but my music is so loud that I can’t understand what is being said. Now I’m starting to panic as I gesture that I can’t hear her and I’m confused as to why I can’t turn the damned music off or at least down a couple of hundred decibels… I grab my iPhone, double tap the screen and I’m rapidly finger sweeping all kinds of applications to the off mode. I know I’m getting close and I look at the officer getting upset with me. Finally I have all the apps off and still the damned music is blasting and I’m too upset to know if it’s from my car speakers or my Bose Bluetooth and I’m going back and forth from laughing hysterically to swearing like the ex-sailor/teamster I am and I’m frantic because the cop is obviously NOT finding this funny while becoming impatient with me. It’s about this time that my hybrid vehicle decided to switch from the stationary electric mode to the gasoline-powered mode. I don’t see a problem with that but NOW the officer apparently thinks I’m trying to escape her area of control and I might be a fugitive so she jumps out of her car and races around to the front of mine with her one hand up in the air with a gesture of STOP, Do Not Move or Exit the Car while her other had is now dangerously close to her sidearm with the safely leather retainer unsnapped. NOW I’m almost shitting my shorts because I’ve got an upset cop, loud music blasting and a lap full of coffee and suntan lotion that makes me look like I just exited a Larry Flint entertainment private observation room… And BTW, NO, I have never been is such a room or to a Larry Flint establishment but I have heard urban rumors. Out of a pure last resort effort, even thought I’m sure the music is coming from my iPhone, I punch the car radio button and there is deafening silence while the officer and I are now eye to eye and trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

I slowly reached both hands out the driver’s window after I turned the ignition off. I try desperately to explain I’m just trying to get back to my Nor-Cal home in wine country after visiting what I thought might be my dying older brother with double pneumonia, that I was lost, tired, feeling very old and stupid AND I was a Vietnam veteran trying to maintain my PTSD after drenching my lap in suntan lotion and hot coffee. All the while I’m hoping she won’t want to inspect my vehicle and find my Glock 29 in it’s designated steel lock box BUT it also has a fully loaded clip next to it and that is not legal. It took nearly 15 minutes of talking but by then she was laughing so damned hard at my morning drive description that she took pity on me while exclaiming this one for the record books and her fellow officers were NOT going to believe. Unfortunately she is new to the area and has no idea of how to get me to Bakersfield. But she asks me to please pull away from the do not park or stop signs and onto a neighboring side street so I can calm down relax and plot a course home. We both waved goodbye and I backed onto a side street in the housing project I was next to so I could simply close my eyes and take slow deep breathes.

Once I pulled it all together I continued on my way taking various turns that at one point had me passing a humongous Northrop Grumman Aviation installation out in the middle of nowhere. At the rate my trip was going I wondered if it was a new Area 51 annex so I kept a nervous eye on the sky around me. As I progressed, after all of this, I realized I was almost to “The” I-5 but still on the south side of the Grapevine. As I approached “The” I-5 I caught a glimpse of three outhouses in the parking area of what I now know is Quail Lake. As if God was not finished with me yet wanted more entertainment and to insure I knew I was NOT in control of my own destiny I found all three honey pots were filled past the overflow level and was so gross that after I calmed my gag reflex and erased the vision of a pair of men’s undershorts stuffed into the top of one commode, I relieved myself out behind them not caring if a police officer saw me or not.

I finally pulled into the Costco gas station in Bakersfield on Panama Ln. But as I got out, because I had been sitting for hours, my shorts and woven leather belt had stretched. As a result as I exited my car with my credit card in hand my shorts almost fell past my knees. Luckily I caught them before they hit the ground but as I shyly looked up I saw a lady behind me in a total state of shock. It was then that I remembered my shorts were still stained all around my zipper with dried suntan lotion. I briefly thought of trying to explain but by now I just didn’t give a damn what anyone thought. I just wanted to get home to my cat, Lilo that no doubt was wondering if I was ever going to return.

Yes, I finally made it home and after I had piled all my travel bags outside my front door so I wouldn’t have to go outside again right away thus panicking my cat, I proudly opened my front door and as I reached down to pick up my cat for a pet and a pat, my damned shorts fell to my ankles. And I just stood there like an idiot and said out loud, “SHIT”… So I brought all my bags just inside the front door with my shorts around my ankles trying not to get mad. Then I pulled my shorts back up and carried Lilo over to his food and water dishes to reward him with an oversized amount of his favorite treats. And as if by the hand of God, those shorts rushed to the floor again and I just stood there laughing…

And THAT is why you shouldn’t ask about my return trip home… But if that STILL doesn’t make you appreciate your own life, ask me sometime about my actual visit to my brother… OMG!

Gary R, Cramer

May 9, 2018