BEWARE THE MAN IN THE BLACK CAR (A STORY OF ROMANCE)

{PHOTO CREDIT MIKE BOBER}

 I FORGIVE YOU.

I always have and always will forgive you. I sometimes wonder if you can forgive yourself for the horrible things you did and said to me. Is it even in your nature, now that I know what you really are? 

It was bittersweet to hear from you after all this time. However, the fake version of a new threat against me in addition to yet another lie put into words in an email that I knew already you meant no truth in really only made me see you more like a coward than the man I once knew you as. God, you were so beautiful, the way I once viewed you. A hero, The love of my life. The dream finally there in front of me, holding me and kissing me. I think somewhere in you, some part of you really wanted to love me the way you said you did...but being the type of monster you are, you don't have the ability to know real love, or show it. I do know you felt something real with me though...that is the only truth I ever needed.

I don't care now, if or when I hear from you again...I know I loved you. I know my love was true, it never faltered against you.

When I write you during the holidays, it's because I miss you then ... not because I would want you back, but because I loved you so much and your loss haunts me. 

But I thank you. I thank you because I loved loving you, when you were a good man, those rare moments where you did the right things by me and were sweet and loving and kind. I do not regret the love I had for you and believed you had for me too. I regret my part in our demise...but I know you will never be able to accept the faults you had in our loss. You were by no means innocent. You lied SO MUCH, and so often, I don't think you ever knew the truth from the lie after a while...

BUT I KNOW, in the only way you could, you did love me too. So I thank you and love you and forgive you. 

No regrets.

I have moved on without you, and without hope of you.

You can't get a reaction out me like you used to, in order to have a power trip or prove me to be some kind of loon...because I never was, you triggered pain and abuse and emotional trauma, because that is what people with the same affliction as you have, do. That is all you know. I feel sorry for you actually because you have no idea of the loss you actually broke in yourself. 

You did not destroy me as I thought you once had...You only gave me caution as a gift and a lesson in extreme loss, but you also gave me dreams and hope and strength and goals. You did not defeat me and crush me as you tried so hard to do. 

So hearing from you after such a long time, did nothing. You are no more on my mind now as you are on most days. Nothing changed this time. You were just a response on the other end of an email, and a rude message on another forum. But you are the foolish one, not I, because I never lost anything when you left. I have learned that I never had you to lose, so therefore, I only gained a lesson...and a moment in time with memories of a man I thought the world of. So I won. Thank you for those moments together where laughter and excitement were full and overflowing. Where making love was beautiful and sensual and for all the ways you made my heart smile. 

I forgive you.

The haunted house I live in...

    

 I live in a haunted house. It doesn't look foreboding. Your normal run-of-the-mill four-story Queen Anne revival home. From the street, it looks like it should be owned by some hipster couple or one's own grandmother. The yard is well kept, the roses are in full bloom...there is a neighborhood stray cat that rests on the wrap-around porch. The house is ornate like most Queen Anne's of this style. It's a pale sunshine yellow with white trim and powder blue details throughout. Even when you walk inside, it seems innocent...but you can feel it. The ghosts that loom in this house. Their voices and screams soaked deep into the woodwork, the bones of this home are soiled with memories and dreams of all those that lived here before me...

The light in the living room window attracts Dragonflies. The Native Americans call Dragonflies the spirit keepers. They help the dead find their way. 

There is a giant Oak tree which an Owl has called its home for many years now, and in the back yard, a shed, the old wooden kind that doesn't keep the rain out, actually... it doesn't keep anything out. In there lives a little red fox and its young ones. They are nestled under some old boxes behind a wooden workbench my father once owned. Between the foxes and the neighbor's cat, I have very few rodent problems around my yard and house.

Down the road sits a marina that houses unusual and redesigned old boats and submarines, a few water planes for island hopping, and just past that there is a cafe, an old-time saloon, and restaurant, a Chinese place with the best wontons in town and pier that leads to some tourist traps and marine time museums. A few blocks down there is an arts district and some strange oddities shops...some more tourist traps and knick-knack shop. Overall my little slice of heaven is pretty amazing, with a flare of magic and mystery always in the air. 

MOST OF THE TIME, A GHOST IS A WISH...

 

The Other Side of the Mirror

 

This week, I took HUGE steps away from the regrets of you. I have blocked you from all my social media now, and on this day, a not so cold day in the winter in the desert, I erased all the texts we once shared. I finally erased you the way you did to me and it was freeing. 

I logged onto a dating site, even though I think online dating is stupid ... but I logged onto the dating site out of curiosity and was almost instantly "let down" by the options available and the "fish in the sea" and promptly made my profile HIDDEN and said fuck it!

....but now what to do...I hate my online options, and the guy I go on dates with, well he doesn't love me...I kinda hate you now...you took so much away. You changed me and it was cruel. Your emotional abuse was cruel...but what's worse is I can't erase you entirely... 

I almost wish I could but then I remember the good moments... sadly those memories make me hate you more.

The Aged Man of Negril, part 2

Jimmy Cliff - Many Rivers To Cross (Lyrics on screen)

https://youtu.be/QvBEpwcGM2o

PUSH PLAY

The woman's plane touched down at the Sangster International Airport, Montego Bay at 12:52 pm in the afternoon. She exited the plane and went about the routine of gathering her belongings at the baggage claim. She hailed a taxi, got in, and asked the driver to drop her at the SeaGarden Beach Resort. It wasn't long before she was checked in settled from the flight.

She grabbed a bottle of water from her handbag and a tattered journal she had tucked in the side pocket, next to her laptop. The journal was old, with torn corners and ripped pages, but it told a story. The story was about a man she had loved, and probably always would. Something about him was different, unique, and he was always a mystery to her, no matter how much she knew him, she never REALLY knew him. He was her enigma. She had loved him and lost him and had come across the journal during a move. She sat and read its pages and remembered the bittersweet moments she had shared with him.

He had been so very cruel those last days when they were together...

.... But here in the journal, she could read of the love they had. The beautiful day out in the canyon together, or seeing art in the desert. She loved that man more than the world around her, but they had betrayed each other and that love grew stale and cold. She wondered if he ever missed her too...do men ever think back on the women they loved and wonder? Does he ever think of the good times or does he remember her as a regret?

She rested that night, gathered her thoughts, and slept.

The next day, the sun shined down the way it only does in the Caribbean. The hues of color there along the beach line, so bright, so vivid. She put on a colorful linen dress, lightweight and flowing, perfect for the beach. Under it, she wore a bathing suit she had spent too much money on, but it gave her that feeling of "oh so sexy" that every woman desired to feel while in one...she giggled to herself for a moment thinking "we aren't all swimsuit models..."...she gathered a beach towel, a blanket, and that journal, and walked down to the beachside. She sat there, on the pristine sands, with only shells and dried seaweeds to litter the grounds around her...the popped open one of the resort umbrellas stuck in the sand and set up a cozy place to just be. 

She watched as boats would come and go from the harbor, and enjoyed the sights and sounds around her. She took pictures with her cell phone now and again and enjoyed rum drinks and steel drum music from the resort behind her. She wondered if the man from the journal ever made it to the island, the place they talked of, if he ever got the dream he wanted...

...what if one of those boats, going out with tourists was his boat, what did name it...he had told her once that he never thought that far ahead, that it was all just a dream of his, that it would never happen. As with many of his plots and stories, she didn't believe that. She knew of dreams and hopes. No matter how grounded in the everyday goings-on, a person thinks of those little details of their someday...their dreams. She would have named their boat "THE ONE" after a song, well a poem, that the man once called theirs. 

She realized how much she had missed this man all these years. She stayed on the beach all day that day until the last boat came into the harbor... hoping, that somehow, she would hear a familiar voice coming from one of the fishermen or tourists passing by...

...that's the funny thing about hope...it always lingers.

The woman realized in time, the man was a liar, a cheat, and that she had dodged a bullet. The man was worth nothing, despite the moments her heart longed for with him, once, long ago...and she was happy their paths never crossed again...some dreams, loves, and hopes should stay in the past, stay in the moments they were intended to. 

She turned around, picked up her beach stuff, and walked along the beach the opposite, as the man she hoped to see, walked off the dock ...fate had decided that they shouldn't see one another, that the mistakes of the past were too great, and the broken bits were too broken...they both went about their day, never knowing the other one was right there, moments away.

Ghost

Poe 5 & 1/2 Minute Hallway

 https://youtu.be/bA3ns_G_OIo

PUSH PLAY 

I think you will always be the ghost in my head and in my heart.

Every night, I close my eyes, okay, for the most part for how my day has turned out. I lay back, relax, and head off to my dreams. A place where your eyes haunt me, your touch brings life back into my soul and the taste of your lips is like water to my body. You are always there. You still love me there. We grow together and talk, we learn one another and laugh. We understand each other there. I love loving you there, but then I always wake up. Yet another day where you are gone. Another week without your voice, I'm actually starting to forget the honest sound of you...though when I sleep I can hear you still. I love my ghost. Maybe that's why you still haunt me.

I miss you , Love of my life.

I WILL SURVIVE YOU, and The story of the two wolves

Jimmy Cliff - Time Will Tell

https://youtu.be/E6QWI7Fhodc

PUSH PLAY

 I have conquered many wild feats. I have traveled and studied the world. I have met a million people in the small world and I have been inspired, so many times before.

I do not regret loving you.

I do not hate the memories we did get to share or the way you took my breath away every time I saw you. I cherish the way your kisses made me melt into you, and those eyes...they stopped time.

I do not regret you, the love of my life. Nor will I ever forget you...why would I ever want to?

Though you tore me down, stole part of my heart, and burned part of my soul, one thing I will do is survive you.

You are NOT the worst thing this world has thrown at me. You are not the voice of all those lives I have touched that actually value me in their lives. You were not a friend to me, though you were my best friend for a fleeting moment. I will survive you.

I will survive the destruction of my love and the sunny disposition I once possessed before you colored my eyes with grey clouds and raindrops. 

You may be a huge loss to me, and maybe I was to you as well, I guess I won't ever know that, but you are not the greatest loss I have had, nor will I allow you to be the loss that destroys my heart fully.

I will walk on, tears in my eyes, but I will survive you, babe! This time, and every time. Because unlike you. Mike, my love, The wolf I wanted to feed was love...The wolf you were feeding was fear...Your wolf won...but my wolf still survived babe. I still love you.

The ways your words of love became lies, Merry Christmas baby.

04 - Yule Struttin' -A Blue Note Christmas 04 Eliane Elias - I'll Be Home For Christmas, Sleigh Ride

.https://youtu.be/AEyASweDXOU

PUSH PLAY

The Aged Man of Negril , part one

The Beatles - Here Comes The Sun [1 HOUR]

https://youtu.be/7tVT6zZENm8

PUSH PLAY

The aged man stood up on his boat, a mid-sized fishing and scuba vessel he used as a way of life these days. He locked everything up for the night and hopped down onto the old wooden dock, it swayed with his weight on top of the gentle ocean currents below. He looked up at the sky, the shades of dark blue and green and grey slowly engulfing the vibrant island sunset hues of pink, purple and orange, a few stars peeked through the colors to welcome the sailor home for the evening. He walked along the pier until he reached the beach line, he opened the dock gates and closed and locked it behind. A rusty sign hung on the gate saying; “Negril Marina, Jamaica if you need assistance, please contact_______, “ but the phone number wasn't listed anymore, it had worn off with the sea air.

The aged man wasn’t old by any means, but he was no longer the young vibrant man he once had been, and walking on the sandy beach on his way to the street to pile into his car and drive home was becoming a bigger challenge daily.  But he did the same thing each day and each night. He reached his car and opened the dark door, he sat down and took his boat shoes off, he emptied the sand out and looked out towards the ocean to say goodnight. He got in his car and drove about a mile and half to his home, he parked in his empty drive and entered.

He was quickly greeted by two dogs and a cat that had decided the man's house was his own. He smiled, patted their heads and pet them, let them into the back yard, and cleaned up their messes of the day. He went to the kitchen and sat his work bag down on the table. He gently unzipped it and pulled out some large shells and a weird rusted watch he had found that day while on scuba adventures with his clients. He sat and looked at the items and for a moment he went back into his memories. He remembered a woman he had once loved. They had talked about a life together here on the island and how she would have her cafe and he would have his boat and she had told him about a dream she had where he would come to the cafe after his long days, she’d fix him a drink and he would give her “gifts from the sea” which she proudly displayed on the wooden shelves he had made for her for the cafe.
The aged man came away from his memory of the lady that loved him once and the dreams they could have shared had he made different choices when those choices were there to be made. The man's smile gently faded as he picked the trinkets up and placed them on the wooden shelves he had made for her, but that now lined the walls leading to his bedroom. He had quite a collection of gifts that were for her and he hoped, maybe, by some trick of fate, the beauty he had once adored so completely and had lost so abruptly would somehow show up there on the island and they would see each other and the love that they thought was lost would still be strong between them. He hoped fate would allow her the chance to see all the years worth of love he had still collected just for her. He hoped that day could arrive and he thought of her face as he lay down to rest for the night, a moment of sleep to ready himself for tomorrow's next set of scuba and fishing attendees. He leaned over and turned off his lamp and the darkness fell across his lonely home and his simple bed and he slept.

When the bridge is burnt between us...can we ever find new wood to rebuild?

Sometimes I wonder, when I look back at my history and the people I have loved, lost, ran from, or ran to, and I wonder if my choices were right or wrong. I have always chosen the harder path, that's just my Gypsy nature. I have never shied from the tough calls or the painful realities, but as my best friend recently told me, I need to be careful, because when I feel something, I TRULY FEEL IT. I have empathy in abundance. Now that isn't a fault by any means, but it does cause me to be rash and unsettled and act fast before thinking, very often. I say things before I know if I mean them, or as my mister would say, I text too much...but I have a great deal to say. I have always been real. That is one thing EVERY ONE of my friends can attest too. I may be exaggerated or overwhelming at times, but I am ALWAYS me. I always have been. I keep it direct and real. Honest, even when it hurts. Some of my friends appreciate that trust and honesty because they know they can say or do anything around me and I won't judge them or change my feelings towards them for being who they are. Everyone has darkness in them, and everyone has love, life, and beauty in them too.  

But sometimes I sit and wonder. In some realm or dimension, did I make different choices, am I happier, do I have more wealth but not my kids with me? Did I become famous? Did I stay with my ex-husband and did he treat me well? Did I marry Alan, instead of losing him in 911? I wonder about the science fiction side of life's rare questions but then I also wonder about the now.
Had I kept contact with one person and deleted a different one, Had I said goodbye to this one instead of that one...would my life be different now? 
I have never been super shy, and while I know many many people, I have never been the overtly outgoing one either. I was never a wallflower at parties, I always jumped right in, or would try to throw house parties and events for all my friend's and colleagues, but once the events would start, I would host and not talk... I wasn't super social, I just liked things to flow. So would I be someone different, or have moved in a different direction if I had chosen different people, and made more calculated choices instead of my fly by the seat of my pants version of life??? 
Then the question becomes totally different...

I don't always feel happy in my own skin, I suffer from Mania, not depression, although the two are often confused or combined. I have to have a catalyst to throw me spiraling into sadness, So I don't suffer from depression, just extreme empathy...but I can be manic. Even in my youth, I was often "hyper" and not easy to deal with. I sometimes wonder what role this played in my life. Did my mania have its twisted ruthless hand in all my affairs? How often did it change the outcome of what might have been? 

For those out there that may read this, and KNOW that I am talking about you, know that I loved you, and still do, and I know we had our good and bad times, and maybe, in some different realm we are still together, married, and happy, doing RHPS on our spare nights and having a blast together, I do miss you somedays and think of you often, wondering if we could have been different had we made better choices along the way. How many others out there can be this honest with themselves...Can you look in the mirror and truly accept your fears and truths about you and still be able to look YOU in the eye and say, "I love you" to yourself? its hard and never fun to know who you are so intimately, but there is a freedom in acceptance on such a level. It is not easy to change oneself even when you may know your faults, and want to expel them and place new, and better things where those once were, but accepting yourself upfront is the only way to start,.

So for the bridges I have burned, and wonder if I were wrong, maybe we can rebuild something different there...for the ones I learned from and still think on but do not regret leaving in my history, I thank you still. Can you be strong enough to accept yourself too?

The Day The World Fell Down 9/2019

On the 31st of August, 2019, I picked my mother up to go run errands for the very last time. The day was stressful and dull and started out uneventful. We went to her bank, and then to Walmart, we argued some over money, because I hadn't gotten paid yet and she was needing extra cash to fix her landlords garage. A garage she had just days before backed into after she and I had gone to the grocery store. I regret being upset with my mother that day, I was annoyed by my bills and relationship issues. It just goes to show you should never take people for granted. Because they really can be gone in an instant. 
There was nothing particularly different about that day, it was a hot 111 degrees in Las Vegas but it was a pretty day out overall. My mom had not been feeling well and had been getting lots of headaches and was, now in reflection, having several minor strokes which ultimately came to a head this bland and nothing day. 
I dropped my mother off at her place around 2 pm, she was renting a room from a harsh overbearing older lady. She had two other roommates in the house, everyone there was seniors.
I got my mom home and waited to make sure she got inside the door safely as I always did, and  I drove back my house. 
I unloaded my car of a few items I had purchased for my kiddos and me to have for dinner and went about my day. I had hoped that my boyfriend would maybe stop by for a visit, our relationship was becoming very strained by his time constraints and I didn't trust he was telling me the truth any longer, so as I often do, I texted too much and probably said too much. He was even more overwhelmed and he did not visit. 

That night I took the only pill I am allowed to take via my doctors, I took an anxiety pill that helps me fall asleep as well as a few chocolate melatonin you can buy at places like Wholefoods and Sprouts. So I started to go to bed, my mind was still reeling from my stressful day and my heart was still sad over my boyfriend, but I finally passed out. 
At 9:04 pm I received a phone call that was to be the catalyst for the rest of my September.
Eve, my mom's acquaintance, called and said she had just come to see my mother and that something was horribly wrong. My mom was unresponsive and unable to move. I told to hang up and call 911 ASAP, that my mom was having a stroke. 

That morning was to be the last morning I ever heard my mothers voice or got a hug from her. I wish I had superpowers so that I could have known and maybe stayed with her so I would have been there to save her in time. But that isn't how life normally works out. I could not drive because of my medicine, so I was stuck waiting to hear news from the hospital. 
At 11:32pm The hospital called and told me my mother had a severe, catastrophic stroke, and that a large portion of her brain had died, They needed my permission to go into surgery to try to save her life and remove the clot from her brain. She made it through the surgery and went to ICU. She only had 4 days there, then was moved to the MCU, for constant care. 
My brother flew into town, and we talked for the 1st time in 6 years. It was actually really nice, it didn't last, but it was nice to have someone here, and he really needed to make amends with our mom too.

My mother had two okay days, where she could interact with us, and nod yes or no to questions posed to her. Her right side was almost entirely paralyzed and she would never talk again or eat food again. She was very sad and in pain and confused.
While my brother was out of the room, I leaned in and asked my mother the hardest question one can ask..." momma, do you want us to take you off everything and just let you die, so you can be with your huband?"  I already knew the answer because my whole life I have always been the closest to my mother out of all the children in our brood.

She looked at me with completely understanding and nodded yes. That was to be the last time my mom was interactive with us. She slept the next 3 days at the MCU and then the doctors and care staff came to the room to discuss our options for longterm life support or hospice. My mother wanted hospice, and she was a shell of the women she had been. No longer fiesty or mouthy or asking a million questions that used to annoy me, but are now something I miss terribly.

That afternoon she was transported to the Hospice, where my brother and I would spend time by her bed, trying to give her something to hold onto while she was still with us. slowly the rest of her body started to shut down, and on 9/11/2019, the worst day for many Americans, including myself, my mother fell asleep for the last time. She was being held by my brother when she passed, so she was not alone. Which was the least we could give her.
My brother and I cried and tried to let it sink in that she was gone, it was better that way for her than the life she would have had to live, but when it's your parents, its a tough call, and a painful one.

I saw my mother twice after that. They let us see her the day she was brought to the funeral home, they had cleaned her up nicely and she looked peaceful. and then I had to see her one more time,
 the day before they took her to be Aquamated, which is a new form of cremation. Her body was cold and her skin waxy, as is the case with corpses. I had studied Forensics and Mortuary Science and had even worked in a few hospitals along my lifeline, so I was not scared of death. 

Death sat calmly by my side that afternoon, while I held my mom's hand once more just so I could make sure to remember every wrinkle and age spot on her hand. I leaned down and kissed her forehead and told her I hoped that Kim met her on the other side, and she was finally with her mother too. My mom had not had an easy life, so I had hope for a moment in an afterlife, because she deserved to have that peace finally. I sat on a chair in the room and cried so hard my chest hurt. I finally stood up, said goodbye, and walked out the door. 

_____________________________________________________________________________


Last year My family and I made it through my Cancer, my brain surgery, being completely homeless and during that time, we may have been closer than ever. We had no choice but to be. My health ordeals made me very aware of telling those around me that I loved them, very often and sometimes so much it ould be annoying. But I made sure to say it as much as I could. Because you get different eyes when your handed a possible death curse. 

I can say I am happy I had told my mother I loved her that last day out with her. we had argued, but no worse than we normally did as mother and daughter. But we still said I love you at the end.

My story here is no different than thousands of peoples every day, but the lesson should stand true...no matter the bridges crossed or the ones burnt along the way, one should always remember those that shaped you as you grew in life, good and bad, and one should NEVER, EVER, FORGET TO SAY I LOVE YOU...just in case.


To my momma, my hero, my confidant, my obnoxious reminder of my imperfections and the one person that was always there, no matter what, even when it was hard to be with her. You were a good mom, and I love you. I miss you very much now. But you are in everything I do and are part of all my memories. So thank you,
 momma. 

Homeless stories that weren't so bad PART 1

THE 1ST DAYS WERE THE WORST, AND THEN THE STORM CAME. I decided to show this blog straight out of my journal, my writing says it all, my stress and pain at the time is shown in a way that can't be described.

SORRY ABOUT THE HAND WRITING! Work through it, I DID! Please remember, I was also going through Cancer treatments during this time.

Completion, means you.

{Wet stone caressed by sunset, circled by azure waters with ocean glass sprinkles. Those are your eyes. A smile that can make time stop. I have no way to describe you. There are no words that do you justice. You are so beautiful to me.} 




I feel weak at the sight of you, yet you bring out a fight in me so strong, like a powerful storm roaring along the valley.
My soul dances in your eyes, I long to tiptoe through the liquid blue perfection, and your smile grows wider when I come into your view.
You make me feel complete.
Then to touch you, the sensations speak to my heart, with each touch, I bring you closer into me.
To lean in and caress your smokey velvet lips, to feel the tickle of your soft facial hair as you pull me closer to you and kiss me hard and full in return. 
You inspire me, my muse on rainy days. How stunning you are when sunbeams gentle enhance the natural highlights in your hair.
You are magic for my senses. My safety when I'm scared. My reassurance when I'm nervous. My Ecstacy when I'm in your arms.
It's so easy to lose myself in all that is you. I love finding myself where you are. Myself there with you, entwined in my hopes of a life with you. Folded so completely in your arms, warm in the volcanic heat that is our passion.
You are my completion. 
I become whole, from what was fragmented, just by your touch. 
Our stolen moments which have created our beginnings. I hope for what we have in store. I want to be your completion too. 

There was magic in the Arena that night.

               Azure ambiance cascading from the rigging and along the edging of the stage sets the scene. The soft roar of chatter throughout the packed arena from fans of every generation, from 6 years old to 94. A single measure of music and one strum of a guitar, and the crowd erupts, and into the darkness, the arena falls. Bright lights and colors fill the rafters, lasers and technicolor become the dream that will last for hours here in the arena, but for those that witnessed it, forever.
                The spotlights zero in on a living legend, and the lovers in the audience begin to dance and hold one another. Not a single person stayed in their seats when he began to sing. Not one. I helped a woman in a wheelchair, stand herself up, just for a moment, so she too, could giving him a standing welcome. A career that has lasted decades, and helped shape music and musicians alike, needed no introduction. Every song he sang, was an invite for the festival goers to sing along. They knew the words by heart, and you could see the joy in his eyes and that of his band when they would fall silent and the crowd would give back to them.
                 He took them on a *Magical Mystery Tour and asked them to *Dance All Night. He gave them history, and his own history. He gave them peace and things to think about when they'd leave. He invited the hoards of people to take in the dream that he and his friends began so long ago. He gifted them music to sing as they walked out the door when it was all over. He rewards us all with Love. He was joined by other rock legends and sang songs that everyone couldn't resist. Ladies still fainted for him, and fans still asked inappropriate questions to him on signs and banners, which he delighted in. There was magic in the arena that night.
                 

                  In the days and hours leading up to the show, the arena would be transformed into the setting that would become his expression of that love for all those that joined him each night he stayed. The stagehands, and arena staff, the roadies and the tour staff all in an alliance to create his masterpiece. The halls would fill with the smell of sage and lemongrass, and fresh vegetables being grilled and set for those that were working to feast on. Mojo curtains and thank you notes from fans being hung in talent rooms and open doors for the band to enter freely through.
                  Everyone was kind. Everyone was inquisitive. They gave thanks to each other in the hallways and corridors. For three days, those of us working at the arena was not working for a client, we were working with friends that we just met. The band would pat our shoulders and Paul would even say good afternoon or good evening as he passed us on his trek from start to finish. Somehow, in all his time with us, he was able to keep a bit of himself and stay humble enough to give thanks back to those that helped to give to everyone else.
                   The mutual respect given by all parties made for a delightful experience and I hope that everyone gets the chance to feel what that's like someday. He is a Rock God, by all standards, but he was a simple man, blowing a kiss to his wife in the back of the audience at the same time. There is nothing like seeing a living legend in action. There was magic in the arena in all those days.