Happy Birthday!

First, I want to say Happy Birthday to Cindy from Victorville. I don't want to blast it out to the world, but at the same time I wanted her to know that I knew and thought about her today.

It just so happens her birthday falls on the same day as someone else I once knew.

As many of my friends and readers know, Pete was a big part of my life for several years. I didn't do anything that didn't somehow relate directly to or about Pete. Well, today is Pete's birthday, and in a moment of clarity and peace, my way of celebrating a wonderful 3 years of my life is to celebrate Pete on his day.

I've not seen or heard from Pete in over a year now. I don't know if he still lives in the old house or drives the same car, and though I wish him well, these are details I care very little about. I don't know if he or his family read my blogs. That's not what this is about. This is about a part of my life that will always be a part of my history, through all the good and bad. This isn't a 'last ditch' effort to get his attention or the attention of his family or friends. This is just simply what it is - remembering Pete and the years we spent together.

The day I had the date with my ex at the Donald Trump Country Club and I wore nothing but lingerie and a trench coat, I took the long way around the Palos Verdes Peninsula. As I pulled up to a stop light, I couldn't help but notice a couple of very nice Harley Davidson motorcycles in front of me a few car lengths ahead. On them sat two fairly young, fairly good looking men from what I could tell under the heavy leathers and black helmets. I knew the two lane road ahead merged into one around the land slide area in about a mile, so if I wanted to get adventurous and flirt with two guys on motorcycles, I had to step on it and get around the cars in front of me. Luckily, one of the guys looked like he hadn't been riding for very long and both were taking it easy.

I dropped the top on my Miata while I sat there waiting for the light to change. As soon as it did I goosed the gas when the cars in front of me moved. Within a half a mile I managed to scoot around the other cars and catch up to the bikes. I had to drive a bit more like a maniac than usual, but I had taken racing classes at Willow Springs the year before. I knew my car very well and could handle it like a pro. When I got next to the bikes, I slowed down. I smiled at the guy in the rear, and then scooted up a bit and smiled at the one in the front. It worked.

(The stretch of road known as the

Portuguese Bend Land Slide area)

I goosed it a bit and shot on past them both before the lanes merged. Driving at least 20 miles an hour over the 35 mph speed limit, I took turns and dips at such a rate of speed my car threatened to leave the road like a car chase scene in a movie filmed on the streets of San Francisco. I had barely cleared the treacherous area when one of the bikes pulled up beside me.

"Don't make us chase you," the lead rider shouted to me through the open top of my car. "Pull over."

I drove about another 100 yards before I found the perfect spot to pull off. It was at the entrance to a gated community, and as I pulled in the security guard in the booth out front looked at me funny. The two motorcycles pulled in beside me.

"Hi," the lead rider said to me. "I'm Bryan."

"Amanda," I replied. "Nice to meet you."

"This is my buddy Pete," he introduced the guy on the other side of him. Pete nodded in my direction. "You'd never know it from the bikes, but we're cops."

Oh great, I thought. Now I'm gonna hear it. I was driving like a maniac.

"Great," I said. My mouth let fly with the words I had been thinking. "Now you're going to give me a ration of $hit for the way I was driving." I grimaced. My eyes have always been my best physical feature, and to ease the coming lecture, I removed my sun glasses at that moment. It worked.

"No," he said, "not at all." he smiled. "Actually we were pretty impressed. Usually girls cant handle cars that well." Somewhere deep inside a part of me burst out laughing at the idiotic comment as I thought about Danika Patrick. "So how about giving me your phone number," he said point blank.

Skip to a scene of me prancing about in lingerie in the middle of the dark night on the cliffs of Palos Verdes... (see previous blogs for the story here - titled Trump This).

(Bryan's bike)

The next day Bryan met me over by my apartment in Gardena. Yes, this is Bryan I'm talking about, not Pete. From my place we hoped on his bike and rode off over the same road on which we first met.

Within the hour he had decided that he was hungry. Bryan and I went back to his house where he cooked two plain chicken breasts on the grill. While he was outside, Pete came in and we struck up a conversation.

Give that a week and a second date with Bryan before the two had a long, sit down conversation about me.

So there it is, the sordid details about how I met Pete.

(Pete's bike with Pete)

I once heard the story that he had asked me out when he pulled me over. He told me that he couldn't ask for my number because it wasn't professional. He then stated clearly and calmly that he just happened to be getting off work in an hour and that he might just happen to go by the Starbucks at Sepulveda and Vermont. If I happened to be there, he might just happen to sit down and talk with me for a minute. But it was a big might. Then, he handed me back my drivers license and walked away. He didn't even give me the ticket for driving 95 on the freeway.

The story goes that he walked into Starbucks, saw me sitting at the table and walked up with a very serious look on his face. Standing before me, he slapped his hand on the table and bellowed "NOW," and he dropped his voice as he sat down with me, "can I have your phone number?"

I ask you - which story is better, the true or the false?

Anyway - Happy Birthday Pete and Cindy.

Many happy returns of the day.

Friends and Heros Have Birthdays Too

When I got the text message, it took a few minutes for my mind to make sense of it. I had been working long, hard hours lately and things weren't clicking into place like they should have.

"Hi Manda Lynn. Today is my Birthday. I am with my mother at my apartment. Doesn't have to [be] today [or] even next week.. But I am very ill. I was close to death..."

His text message cut off there. My mind reeled, my heart raced, and I grabbed for my keys before remembering I knew the town but not the address for where my friend lived. Immediately I sent a text back.

"What is your address. I will come over RIGHT NOW."

His text continued just then.

"... not long ago. But if you were so kind... a Black and White movie night even if at my own [place] in my bedroom with a chaperon would be nice. I miss you."

It took a few minutes to get any other response. I called a mutual friend of ours to let him know what was going on. Instinctively I knew that he would be worried, but for him to do exactly what I had planned on doing myself meant a lot to me AND to my old friend. He told me "get his address, I'll meet you there."

His next text was his address and I made a mad dash for my car. As a bit of an after thought, I tossed my uniform into the passenger seat. Unfolded and thrown violently, it ended in a spread mess from the back of the seat to the floor, dangling like a loose thread from a jacket. I squealed tires out of there.

On my way I made a few calls. I managed to get the night off work through a little effort, and I haphazardly laughed at the condition of my uniform. It didn't matter anyway. I cried my eyes out and swerved through traffic before realizing I was almost out of gas. I had to fill up or I wouldn't make it there!

Still making calls to get the shifts covered at work, I stood outside of his apartment for a few minutes gaining my composure. Our mutual friend arrived with his wife, and the three of us went up.

Here was my dear old friend, laying face down on the couch. His cheek bones protruded, his temples were sunken, his eyes were hollowed out, but he still had those beautiful blue eyes. He looked up at me weakly and smiled. Me being me, I ran to his side and held him for a long time, kneeling on the floor beside him. I kissed his cheek and held him close, telling him that I was glad to see him. He was thin, but he was still very dignified and wise.

At first his concentration was almost gone. He couldn't pay attention to one thought for very long. He had been very ill. Friends and family gathered around, and yet all he could do was talk to his most recently arrived guests. Struggling at first, he sat up tall.

It didn't take long and my dear friend was talking as he normally would. His family noticed a slight change already. He had a spark back to his eyes they hadn't seen in a while.

"I nearly asked her to marry me," he said to our mutual friends about me. He patted me on the knee, kissed my cheek, and smiled a genuine, heart felt, loving smile. I knew in my heart he was joking. Everyone smiled. "She was always so bouncy and fun, she brightened up my day each time I saw her. She made things better," he said, smiling a little more. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his cheek back.

When I first met this man, he was my boss. He was what my old company called the Post Commander for the Security Operation where I worked. It was my first day and he seemed almost frightened of me. Still, right off the bat we got along.

I worked with a crew of all guys back then. I knew that I wanted to be treated like one of the Guys, I didn't want special treatment from anyone just because I had hips. In order to make a good impression, I did something I hadn't done since childhood...

In the corner of the office in a small glass case sat a very large, very hairy red spider. It was a tarantula to be exact, a Chilean Fire Spider. Instantly I knew how to win Kudo's points with all the guys I was going to be working with. I didn't want them to think me prissy or girly.

"Oooh! Can I hold it?!"

My boss looked up from his paperwork and laughed. "Really?" He sat there, stunned. "Most of the guys scream like little girls and run from the room when she comes out of her terrarium." He laughed to himself.

We had many things in common, this friend and I. We often spent hours after work just talking about old movies and fine cigars. We had moments over the next few months where he and I were able to help one another. We had philosophical and religious conversations and debates. He was the one who made me open my eyes to the thought of being married to my ex for the rest of my life. He made me rethink my decisions and future. He was right. He was and remains a wise man.

He taught me almost everything I know about Security, about being a boss, a leader and a friend all at the same time. He trained me to do the job I'm doing now without my ever knowing it. He told me as we sat there that I had been his greatest success.

"You know," he addressed our friend as he put an arm on my cheek, "I wanted to marry her if she would have me."

Thinking he was either joking or feeling his illness, I chuckled. Our friends smiled. We all moved on.

Evenutally our friends left and I stayed there. I ate with the family, I helped sing Happy Birthday to him, and I cheered him as best I could. Hours later, he repeated those words that rang so clearly in my head, when I told myself he had been joking
around with me.

"Mom, do you remember about a year ago when I told you there was a girl I wanted to ask to marry me?"

"Yes, Honey" she said to him, smiling at me.

"This is her."

Suddenly it dawned on me. I meant so much to this man that he had wanted to marry me. He knew that he wouldn't be around forever and that there really wasn't anything we could do about it, but he wanted to spend what remaining days he had in my company. I cried again, unabashedly, on his shoulder.

He's a fighter. He's not done yet. He even says himself that he's not fulfilled his destiny and he has so much left to do in this world. I'll do everything I can to help him accomplish those goals. I would risk life and limb for this man, as I know he would do for me.

There are certain people in our lives we call friends. Others we call family. There are even some friends that are as close to us as family. This one person, this friend, is so much more than any of those categories. I have loved and cared for this man since the day I met him. He is a true kindred spirit. He would never judge me or "disagree" with how I live my life. I can't imagine this world or this life without him in it.

He is my Friend.
He's been my guide.
He'll always be my hero.




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