She was told she’d find satisfaction in marriage. And at first she did. A marriage at 18, while not yet knowing who she was and where she fit in the world.

But then for what seemed like an eternity she had tried to end the marriage. Tried in ways good and bad, ways that helped or hindered the painful process of unwinding a marriage that had resulted in five children before she turned 25.

Marriage to a man firmly set on his own path. A path that suddenly detoured into the military and Europe. When she made the decision to pack up their baby and belongings and head to Orleans, France, knowing that his answer would have been a deafening NO.

Living for 14 months with a husband, a baby girl — and soon a baby boy as well — in a French apartment with its challenges and amazements changed her life, saying to her, “There’s a world out there just waiting for you to discover and learn about it.”

However, the times being what they were, she had to get his permission to reach for jobs, classes, a new house, a vacation. And she never could get him to accept the new rock-n-roll music. As she later wrote, “Music so imperative you HAD to move to it. But not him — or me. At dances I’d shift from one foot to the other, avoid closing my eyes and dissolving into it. The glide, the hully-gully, the mashed potato, the swim, the jerk, the watusi … “

So came tries at counseling, then living separately, as she wanted the freedom to be herself. But ultimately he filed and forever said it was rock-n-roll that split them up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
copyright
Carolan Gladden

FINDINGS OF FACT AND CONCLUSIONS OF LAW, dated April 1967

“That the Defendant has treated the Plaintiff cruelly and subjected him to personal indignities rendering his life burdensome. That said cruel treatment and personal indignities consist of the following: That …

• Plaintiff left the family home as Defendant was continuously nagging at him and made life unbearable.
• Defendant finds fault with most everything that Plaintiff does.
• The parties fail to agree on any issues of importance including recreation, finances, etc.
• Defendant has been cold and indifferent towards Plaintiff.

“All of the aforesaid conduct on the part of the Defendant has occurred without any fault on the part of the Plaintiff and the same has caused him great mental worry, has greatly humiliated him and has rendered  his married life burdensome in the extreme and has caused the Plaintiff to lose his love and affection for the Defendant, and it is impossible for the parties to live together longer as husband and wife.

“Plaintiff is granted a divorce upon the grounds of mental cruelty.”

All we can say is thank heavens for eventual no-fault laws!

~~~~~~~~~~~~
copyright Carolan Gladden

When asked about his dream band , the amazing award-winning blues/R&B/soul singer/harmonica player, and comeback man Curtis Salgado had a fabulous aggregation on the tip of his talented tongue: 

“An ideal band for me would be two keyboard players, a drummer, a guitar player, a bass player, a conga player, three background singers, a three piece horn section, a 3-man road crew and enough money to pay them all well.”

Heaven on earth?! Yet, Curtis regularly wrangles spectacular sounds and lofty lyrics from his current small, tight group, as witnessed here, with “20 Years of BB King” …

~~~~~~~

copyright Carolan Gladden

It began with just a “poke” on facebook. Then the pokes became nudges that became thrusts that became strokes that became propulsion, momentum, stimulation, inspiration, revelation, wild satisfaction and finally true contentment.

Ahhh …

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

copyright Carolan Gladden

When he was in the military in Europe he met a woman, enjoyed her company, liked her a lot. They went out dancing every weekend and were together the entire 18 months he was in her country. But he never knew just how special, how magical, she was until after he’d said goodbye and come back to the US.

He had thought he’d simply find someone like her here, but that was a faulty assumption. A big mistake.

Of course over the years he had met and dated others, but never ever been able to recreate the magic. Now he realized he had taken someone precious for granted and oh how he regretted it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
copyright Carolan Gladden

The rays, the heat and the look of that shimmering orb in the sky … irresistible for as  long as I could remember … as a little girl sitting on a sizzling sidewalk spraying icy water all over my body … later prone under a shady tree yet feeling the effects deep inside of me …  on my back on a soft lawn gazing into the shining … in love but alone and throbbing on the lanai …  my tanned femaleness nakedly entwined under a soft waterfall with my darker lover …

It seemed there was no explaining it … no matter what age I was,  no matter
what was on my mind,  what I should be doing or who might be around … I still succumbed to sun and heat … preserved the erotica in photos and prose, reveled in nudity, pleasured myself by hand or toy … and loved/loved/loved orgasms, the hotter the better …

~~~~~~~~~~~~
copyright Carolan Gladden

With the new movie “A Dangerous Method,” I had to look into the subject of hysteria. It seems that in the 19^th century this was a frequent diagnosis for any woman in any sort of distress. Vague symptoms ranged from “nerves” and “weakness” to discontent and outbursts of emotion.

Plato earlier had blamed such complaints on an “unfruitful” uterus. So get ready for the Victorian era treatment: “Hysterical paroxysm” – also known as orgasm – where physicians massaged their patients’ genitals manually or with a vibrator! My source reports that the doctors “found this tedious but surprisingly uncontroversial.”

Hysteria actually was not removed from the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Illness) until 1980. And think about this: The surgical removal of the female uterus is still called a “hysterectomy” — cutting out the hysteria!

~~~~~~~~~~~~
copyright Carolan Gladden

Following her wayward summer came college as a journalism major. A stint so brief there was time only for leading football cheers, part-time soda jerking and breaking curfew to be with her new lovah. Co-captain of the football team, wouldn’t you know, and from what was to her the exotic East Coast.

Soon after quitting classes the girl who craved sex was going steady, engaged, married and pronounced with child. Not necessarily in that order. And in what seemed like the blink of an eye as an Army wife for over a year she lived in Europe. This experience changed her life in infinite ways. And then back home over time she found herself the mother of five.

Along the way disparate needs surfaced causing relationship problems and, eventually, divorce. But not before an affair with the worst possible partner. And thus was set up the next phase, that of  free-loving single. Lots of sex, alcohol and craziness within the white world. With the role of non-custodial parent on the side

Then came huge changes: musicians, mucho musica, less alcohol and better sex upon entrée into the Black community. This turn of events prompted extensive travel through the Caribbean, Brazil, West Africa and learning about previously unknown history, culture and customs. With mostly brief or sporadic romantic connections, punctuated by a couple long-term relationships. Still, sex first and foremost. And some quite questionable characters.

That is, until life coaching helped cut through the flak, supplied new insights and gave her guidance on the art – it’s not a science – of finding and bonding with a partner: Friend, confidant and for sure Black. But also superior lover as her propensity for pleasure decreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
copyright Carolan Gladden

He: Sorry about last night, basically just fell asleep. Guess I was more tired than I thought.
She: Got some creative stuff done so it wasn’t a waste — except of libido (smile).
He: I see … No dildo last night/this morning?
She: Shower massage this morning – I’m shameless — need those “O’s.”
He: Mmmm …
She: So what’s happening today, tonight, tomorrow, this minute?
He: Stroking myself thinking about what you just said.
She: Can’t touch myself at work — damn — keep wondering if anyone walking by can read this — rather reckless — question is WHEN — or should I cool off?
He: Sounds like you need some right now.
She: I do I do. What can you do about that? Do you want to do something about it? Thinking? Considering? or …?
He: Now? Want some right now?
She: Right now — long lunch — I’m game. You?
He: Cum over we’ll do lunch.
She: Better than food — see you soon
He: I’m ready, baby!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
copyright Carolan Gladden

When I first saw you I was afraid to meet you.

When I first met you I was afraid to hold you.

When I held you I was afraid to kiss you.

When I first kissed you I was afraid to love you.

Now that I love you I’m afraid to lose you!

~~~~~~~~~~~
Author Unknown

He touched a place inside me that had lain dormant for so long. This sweet and savvy, talkative and erotic young man called forth from me a rich mixture of the sensual, the sexual, the maternal. Plus such vulnerability, a feeling nearly lost from memory.

The only comparable episode further back than I cared to contemplate. My first fling as a divorcee. A beautiful and earnest navy man. Walking alongside me on a downtown Portland street, starting a conversation, joining me for coffee.

It hadn’t ended there. No, indeed. Culminating in what was at the time the most memorable weekend of my life – walking, talking, loving, showing off my town at the wheel of my old canary-colored Chevy. Later I wrote about the wonder of it all. And that one had sent shipboard letters all the way down the Columbia to Astoria. And with him I first visited San Diego, explored rustic Julian, cruised the marimba bars of Tijuana. And yes made love around the clock.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
copyright Carolan Gladden

 

 

 

Out the window of my tiny room in the back of Arpoador Inn in Rio, the crash of the waves came as steady as a metronome set at 3-second stop time. But their intensity was irregular. Mostly a slow rolling sound as the three- to five-footers broke in a continuous line between the Arpoador cliffs and the boulder barrier at the Copacabana end. But then, maybe every tenth wave would create a reverberation like a rifle crack as its crest snapped over and plummeted straight down to earth, its blinding white froth spraying in all directions above it.

By day surfers but after dark just the wild ocean and me. And I could watch, listen, feel the heat and get turned on all night long — sleep not the least bit of an option.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
copyright Carolan Gladden

Out of the blue a co-worker called to tell her, “You’re wonderful!” It made her day! When she felt needed, cared about, necessary, important, food absolutely disappeared from her radar screen.

Suddenly she reflected on how long she had fought the concept of peace of mind. It always sounded so dull, grey, uninteresting, But shoot, she mused, maybe that’s what maturity could achieve. Sure she was a lady of a certain age — but one who could still learn and become joyous.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
copyright Carolan Gladden

She loved her life, her view, the sun, independence. And food was her only addiction. She was a loner and would always be. Still she wanted to draw positive people toward her – male and female – in short happy bursts.

Yes, she missed a man’s caresses, lovemaking and sharing intimacies. But never enough to settle for redneck, bigoted, small-minded conservatism.

It was such a razor edge – positive, happy, strong, in-control, never-say-die survivor – a balance beam with disaster not far away on two sides …

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
copyright Carolan Gladden

One of the boys rolled his eyes. “My Ma says to some folks black acts like red on a bull.”

“Yeh, never underestimate the hatred factor,” the player agreed.

I couldn’t help it, I spoke in staccato fashion. “You fellows look at me and you see light skin and blond hair. You think that means I relate to those other people who look like me.”

“Say what?” the young man boggled.

Edouard spoke more to me than the others, “Inside her heart this lady is of color.”

While I stood speechless Lurene blew him a kiss and mouthed, “Thank you.”

“Alright, folks,” a guard bellowed from the end of the hall. “Bail on the way.”

~~~~~

As they all crowded into agent Mallie’s SVU, she gripped the wheel waiting for the explosion as she chirped, “Oh by the way, Bobby, the police impounded your van.”

“Godsake!” Velva mouthed in disgust.

Bobby leaned forward. “Why? Where? How much is it going to cost me?”

“Not to worry, Bobby-boy.” Mallie pushed at her always tousled hair. “The agency will pick it up it for you. That is, if Madame Partner agrees.”

“Madame Partner?” Lurene croaked. “What does that mean?”

Mallie caught the wide eyes in the rearview mirror.  “Ready?”

“Can’t be any worse than what we just lived through.”

“Not bad at all, silly. A big grant came through so we can elevate you to your rightful position with Gena as your assistant.” Mallie grinned. “You’re moving up too, Velva. If you want.”

At that Edouard began some African chant. Slowly one by one we all joined in as if our horrid evening never happened and it was a perfect world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

copyright Carolan Gladden

Before we knew what was happening a free-for-all erupted. We outlanders valiantly tried to hold off a growing white mob, assisted by several young black patrons. But in the middle of the fracas a piercing whistle, a squad of blue shirts and on their heels an ambulance for the young man.

Light oscillated in the cramped cell as a bare bulb swayed in answer to overhead movement. A metallic din down the courthouse corridor underscored sporadic conversation as we all waited.

One of the fellows who had helped us couldn’t stop praising Edouard. “Man, you’re good,” he repeated. “And how about …” His big brown eyes lighted on me. “Holding that biker at bay with a pool cue was primo!”

I felt myself blushing. “How about you, stopping those guys in their tracks with your tenor licks!”

“Thank god they didn’t get to my horn.” His gaze slid to the saxophone beside him as Edouard massaged his elbow through a torn sleeve, “I can’t believe you cats. Not a scratch. Me, I’m a mess.”

“Shit, look at the age difference.” The player blew a riff that trembled in the air.

His buddies laughed. “Yeah, man. You’re OLD.”

“But what a punch,” Lurene added.

“Used to be a bit of boxer,” Edouard admitted, “but have not fist-fought since university. And never have I been arrested.”

Velva sniffed, “I would venture to say, nor has any of us.”

“All this because of PIGMENT!” I spit the word between clenched teeth.

will continue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
copyright Carolan Gladden

We seemed to be a million miles from the urbanity of Portland as a gravel parking area greeted us with a fleet of dilapidated sedans and ancient pickups, a dotting of Beemers and a long row of gleaming Harleys standing sentry. “Rednecks and yuppies and bikers—oh my,” Edouard muttered as we trooped up to the massive oak door.

The venerable tavern reeked from smoke, fried onions, stale beer and swarmed with folks as eclectic as their vehicles. Mostly young and white, wearing jeans and t-shirts that proclaimed “Rip City,” “Will be President for Blow Jobs,” “Legalize It,” “So Many Men So Little Time,” “Say it Or-y-gun,” “When in Doubt Don’t Whip It Out,” “Tiny Tits,” “Save the Owl,” and the whales, the gnatcatcher, the least tern. Even one reading, “Ah, Uh, Gosh, Gee,” for people with nothing to say.

As we sipped our libations activity swirled throughout the huge timbered room. Overloud reggae, spirited drinking, sexually suggestive dancing and in the far corner pool hustling.

Lurene shrieked, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Edouard. This shitty group’s not worth our time.”

He raised his glass. “What’s a dose of inferior music among friends anyway?”

“Right you are,” Ulu toasted.

Velva’s nose wrinkled. “Do I smell pot?”

Lurene nodded, gesturing toward a cluster of people around a pool table, and I stared toward a bank of roiling silver smoke. She waved for the check as a wave of caustic remarks rolled toward us. The men fed on one another’s cruelty like animals tearing a butterfly apart piece by awful piece.

Just then a body hurtled across the floor with a bruiser in fast pursuit, plucking the young man up and slamming him into the floor again and again.

Edouard scrambled to his feet and the bruiser left the prostrate form to jeer, “What’s this, a goddam jungle bunny gonna save the fag?”

“Pardon us, gentlemen.” Edouard waggled his head for us to go. “We are on our way …”

A fist in the belly silenced him but Ulu grabbed onto the bruiser’s jeans before another swing. And Velva rushed to help Edouard as the bruiser shouted, “A trio of muthahfuckin niggers!”

(to be continued)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

copyright Carolan Gladden

So this piece of music is deemed the most relaxing in the world … must give it a try … even though calm/quiet/slow/meditating have never been my preferred modes of operation … which may explain why I sometimes overeat or overdo to the point of addiction.

Assuredly I can attest to the relatedness of all addictions … even if never to drugs … still a decidedly addictive personality with a drive to keep at whatever it may be … cookies, ice cream, orange slices, walking, polyrhythmic music, dancing, working, reading, writing, making love …

Ah, that’s what “Weightless” — the relaxing tune — is doing for me. Letting my mind wander to wondrous intertwining with my lover … no conscious thought, mind at ease, floating above the physical plane .. as my body reacts to the indescribable feel of his next to me, around me, inside me … deep kissing from mouth downward … hands everywhere … vibrations, sparks … the in and out energy … then the wonder of the fit together in glorious orgasm.

Now I am relaxed … I love this music!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
copyright Carolan Gladden

I read every one of his blog posts and found them — and him — truly amazing!

As a lifelong writer, solo for much of it and often not happily so, I had written many a diatribe or introspective piece. But never would I have believed that a guy could experience such agonies and then give voice to them. He enlightened me, broadened my outlook and gave me more avenues to explore in my writings.

And I just had to say to him that although life is indeed short, at his young age he had ample time to figure out who he was, where he belonged and with whom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
copyright Carolan Gladden