New Phase 11: Woodstock One

Westlake Village, California

Year 2011                                                               

Remembering Marsha was seventy-five and I was seventy-seven, not knowing if having marijuana induced, breath taking sex once a week was a good or bad thing for a seventy-seven year old man and seventy-five year old woman?

We did rationalise that if some old men and old women —some even older than Marsha and me run marathons and survived — some really hot old time fucking once a week couldn’t hurt… Even if occasionally it was done more than once a week.

Just good old fashioned ‘missionary’ positions. With sometimes our old: ‘You want to eat my pussy?’ ‘You want to suck my cock’, thrown in.

“Hell..” we rationalised “...it couldn’t hurt! The exercise might even make our hearts stronger.

Which apparently it did — our lungs, too, because Marsha and I would come away with breath coming in gasps.

But never did have a heart attack.

March 19, 2011

Hard to believe!

Impossible to believe that on this day one year ago Marsha and I had now been married for one year— Unless we’d want to add it to the thirty-one years we had been married before the divorce in now twenty-five years earlier.

Nah! Different time. Different people.

Marsha and I decided to keep 3/19/10 as our official wedding date.

However, both ladies having at least one past marriage under their belts — actually, technically this would be Marsha’s fourth — and seeing as Sharon and Marsha were both well into their mid-seventies and no longer thrilled by making a big deal out of an anniversary and ‘especially’ birthdays, as, coincidentally, Sharon and Milt had been married exactly one month later — on 4/20/10 — Sharon and Marsha decided the two couples would celebrate both marriages on the mutually agreed, compromised date of 4/5/11.

This compromise certainly not due to the consolidation of funds, as money was not a problem for either couple, but more so as a further consolidation of their combined friendship as the two women could not have become closer friends.

Closer friends that had huge chunks of the years of their earlier lives in shadow.

Of course Sharon had wondered about the thirty-one years of Marsha and Mitchell’s precious marriage and the reasons for their divorce and why now, twenty-four years later, they were once again married. And not only married, but apparently the happiest married couple Sharon — in her opinion had ever had the good fortune to know.

March 19, 2011

10:43 AM

“ ‘Morning.”

“Marcie, today’s your and Mitch’s anniversary, right?”

Though not celebrated publicly, Marsha and Mitchell had celebrated privately.

Catching the phone in the kitchen while still nude. Shivering. “Yes.”

“What say…” Sharon said “...just you and me take one of the boats out, bring along some wine and gab.”

“You mean just girl to girl?”

“Exactly!”

“You want to drive?”

“No…” Sharon said “...you’re a better sailor than me.”

“What time?”

“Guess it isn’t wine time before noon.”

“Before noon? Sez who?”

“Them that sez it isn’t wine time before noon.”

Wondering if a ‘cookie’ would be appropriate? “Okay. I’ll bring some noshies, too.”

“See you then, Marcie.”

A cool California afternoon — overcast with the temperature hovering between sixty-nine and seventy-two.

12:11 PM

Expecting it to be cooler on the lake, both women wore jeans, and a windbreaker jacket.

Coming aboard, Marsha set a platter with three types of assorted crackers and spreadable cheeses on the boat’s table, and Sharon: in an ‘Igloo’, two bottles of white wine, along with two of her husbands old coffee cups.

12:14 PM

Marsha seated behind the wheel, the old party boats motor turned on, the clutch in neutral.

Still on the dock, Sharon threw the two half-hitches off, and the tightly held boat immediately began to drift.

Grabbing hold of the stanchions on either side of the hatch, urging the boat closer to the dock, Sharon, ‘very carefully’ stepped aboard.

Making a wide turn to starboard, the boat turned westerly in preparation to entering the large channel on the southerly side of the island.

Attached to the front of the steering housing is an eighteen square inch shelf.

Bringing the cheese dish and napkins, Sharon put them on the shelf. Returning to the table, she poured two cups of wine, then returned to sit to the right of Marsha.

Clinking cups and taking a sip, Marsha turned her attention to compensating for the direction the light wind was pushing this buoyant pontoon boat.

So many sunny days in Southern California, that the occasional grey day...

On a proper, slow coarse, both women silent enjoying the others close company, the gentle motion of the boat, this quiet grey day and the wine they slowly sipped.

12:47 PM

“You and Mitch always look so happy to be with each other. Curiously, if you don’t mind me asking, when were you two married?”

Starting to speak, Marsha was cut off with…

“No, not this time...” Sharon said “...the last time?”

Drinking wine. “Mitch’n’me got married in December, ‘fifty-five.”

“ ‘Fifty-five!” Drinking some wine, Sharon put the cup on the deck, slathered soft cheese onto a Ritz Cracker and, handing it to Marsha... “That’s a fucking ‘long’ time!” ...the demure old lady said.

“Thanks!” Taking the cracker, Marsha ate it and took  another drink of wine.

“Again, if you don’t mind me asking…” not waiting for approval “...seeing how happy you two are, why’d you break up in the first place?”

Marsha hated ‘even’ the thought that she’d given so much of her life and herself to Bill Jacobson that the only time she thinks of him is each night when she removes her dental plates to clean them.— something Mitchell had never been allowed to see.

Marsha is so secretive about this, that he’d even forgotten she had full upper and lower dental plates.

“Seeing how happy you two are, why’d you break up in the first place?”

Thinking or a way to answer Sharon’s question without the mere mention of Bill Jacobson.

Simplifying her earlier life with Mitchell...

“We were both too young. And it was because I wanted to get away from my mother. And Mitchell? Looking as he did — and you should of seen him when he was younger, and…”

“I can imagine.” Sharon said.

“...looking as he did, I could never figure out why, but I guess we got married because he was just horny.

So the two of us stuck it out for as long as we thought we could stand each other and then…?”

Gazing forward, at the black specks of geese as shadows upon the horizon within the grey cloud.

Finishing the cup of wine, Sharon slathered another cracker, ate it, and, “ ‘Thirty-one years’, and hen, ‘poof’.”

“Yeah…” taking another cracker and cheese and a swallow of wine “...then another twenty-four years, ‘poof’. And now… It’s really stupid, but I think Mitch and me are… it’s so dumb to even say, but I think we’re meant to be ‘soul mates’.”

“No…” taking Marsha’s hand “...not dumb at all, because sometimes, so I’ve begun to think, God sometimes might really save the best for last.” Thinking of Milt.

Thinking of Clyde, Sharon’s now decided husband. “If our bodies and minds hold up.”

1:08 PM

Finishing the last of her wine, as there was not another boat in sight, and they were now running on a straight course. Standing. “You need some more wine?”

“Yes, I’m ready, but I’ll get it?”

“No. Got to stretch, anyway.” Taking both cups, Marsha went the few steps to the forward table, refilled both cups, and handed one to Sharon while retaking her place behind the wheel.

“What about you and Clyde? When were you married?”

In a small plastic bag, all but covered with assorted crackers, was a cookie that had been broken into quarters.

“Taking it from the tray. “What’s this?” Sharon asked.

“A cookie.”

“I see that…” a thought occurring to her “...but what kind of cookie?”

“I was going to talk t you about the cookie…”

“After…” looking to the table and the second opened bottle of wine “… we’ve gotten a ‘little’ smashed?”

“Maybe even more than a littler, but yeah. Didn’t know if you’d approve… But while Mitch was in pain waiting for his operation, Si came over with some of, what he called, ‘medicated cookies’.”

“Medicated!” Sharon laughed. “Medicated with what?”

“Maharajah.” Hesitating. “Don’t know if you’ve ever had any.”

‘You didn’t know if I’d approve? And you’re wondering if I’d ever smoked pot?”

Held on her lap, looking at the empty cup. “Well, yeah.”

“Marsha, I’m seventy seven now and was thirty-five in ‘sixty-nine.”

“ ‘Sixty-nine’?” Having no idea why. “What’s ‘sixty-nine’ have to do with anything.”

“Oh, Baby...” laughing, her eyes rolling upward “... ‘Woodstock’! Marcie, Clyde and me were at Woodstock in ‘sixty-nine! And you want to know if I’d ‘ever’ smoked pot?”

“ ‘Really’?” Enviously. “Really! You were at Woodstock?”

“Yeah! The whole three days. Clyde and me stayed to the very end. Even met Janis Joplin.” Holding the small bag upward. “Never ingested it, though. Always smoked…” adding “...a lot!”

“My, God!... Marsha thought, This sweet little old lady? ‘Go figure’!

“I brought it aboard…” motioning to the small baggie in Sharon’s hand “...thinking that maybe, if you wanted, we’d share it.”

Hesitating. “Does Milt know you’ve…” again holding the bag forward “...got this?”

“Yeah! Mitch told him. But Milt said he doesn’t want to have any until he knows if it’s okay with you.”

“Good men…” Sharon said seriously “... are ‘so’ hard to find.”

“And like you said…” thinking of herself and Mitchell along with Sharon and Milt “...‘maybe God does save the best for last’.”

Opening the seal on the baggie. First smelling the long forgotten, always remembered distinguished scent of Maharajah.

Sharon took a quarter then handed the bag to Marsha, who also took a quarter.

1:39 PM

Between the quarter cookie each and two bottles of wine...

Having a bout of ‘munchies’, the crackers and cheese nearly devoured. Both women into their fourth cup— and the last of the remaining wine.

Steering —if one were to look at the party boats wake, a snake like course, then pin-balling between two of The Landings finger docks.

Somehow able to amble ashore, Marsha secured the boat to the finger docks cleats.

Secure and safe.

Happily stoned and reflectively drunk…

Reclining onto the boats side cushions on other side of the table.

“Clyde and me…” Sharon said in the soft tone of long ago remembrance “...we’re both from a suburb of Cincinnati.

Guess Clyde and me met when I was, oh, maybe about seven and him, a couple of years older…”

“Nine?”

“Yeah, probably…” glancing at Marsha. “Our parents were partners in a large hardware store outside of Cincinnati, and when we got old enough…”

“Thirteen and fifteen?”

“Yeah. About! Probably! Maybe a little older… You sure all that wine’s gone?”

“Hold on!”

“Hey!” Waving until one of ‘The Landing Restaurant’s’ waiters noticed and came down to the docks.

“Don’t quite feel like walking all the way from here…” tapping the table with the ball of her fist “...to there…” gesturing towards the restaurant….

The young waiter had certainly seen people tied to the docks in an inebriated condition, but hardly ever two really old ladies that were quite this ‘smashed’.

“Could you please ask Audrey if she’d send a couple glasses of ‘Pinot’, and some rolls and butter over?”

The urge for food telling him it wasn’t the wine — noticing the two empty bottles, but ‘grass’.

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Oh, yeah. Tell her that we’ve…” nodding towards Sharon “...have no cash or cards with us, and that Milt or Mitch will be over later to ‘catch up’.”

Recognising Marsha and Sharon as repeat customers. “That’ll be no problem, Ma’am.”

Her eyes half closed. “Anyway…” dreamily going on with the story “...when Clyde and me were old enough, he’d do stock boy work and I’d… Because I’d always been good with numbers, work the cash register.

When Clyde’s dad died, my father retired and turned the store over to us.

Clyde and I got married in ‘thirty-eight’ and when Vietnam started, I was thirty four and Clyde thirty-six— Too old for the Army, so we continued with the hardware store, always wanting to be somewhere else, doing something else!

Getting our ‘do something else’ thing in ‘sixty-nine’, after hearing about ‘Woodstock’: this huge MusicFestival that was to start on the fifteenth of August with an expected crowd of over a half million people coming to pitch lean-too’s or tents or just spread blankets on this dairy farm land in Bethel, New York.

As it was about five hundred miles to Bethel, and knowing that we’d better get to Woodstock early, temporarily turning the store over to our long time assistants, Clyde and I started to ‘Woodstock’ on August ten, figuring we’d be there in one day, giving us plenty of time to ‘locate’ ourselves. But..."

Waiting as a tray with two classes of ‘Pinot’ and a wire basket holding four dinner rolls and eight pads of butter were handed from the waiter on the dock to Marsha, who carefully accepted, and placed the tray on the table.

“Tell Audrey to add four bucks to the bill for you.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Thank you.”

...taking a sip of wine, and tearing one of the rolls in half “...when Clyde and I took the stores van and got to ‘Bethel’...”

Next: New Phase 12: Woodstock Two