The Princess and the Stray Dog

A memoire

The summer of ‘64 came like a whirlwind of music, emotions and more that left indelible imprints upon my 16 year-old soul. The Beatles and Beach boys sang of life and romance while I, an incomplete, developing organism, absorbed it all like a sponge in the desert. I wanted cars, spending money and romance, and they were each just barely within my reach.

I had taken a break that summer from staying with Dad in Booneville or Mom in Waldron, and lived and worked at the state Tuberculosis sanitorium, where food and lodging was afforded to its employees. This is of no importance, except that I had friends there. 

One of those friends, Bradford, told me that a girl he knew had seen me in town and thought I was cute. Though I didn’t know her name, I knew of her, and the news floored me! She was very pretty and surely out of my league. Her name was “Trish” he said, and he’d take me to go meet her. Oh, what a great idea that was, I thought, and soon we did just that. 

Trish was a bit taller than a lot of girls her age, had dark hair, bronze skin, and spoke with the most endearing lisp. (I thought it was endearing, at least) A real girl from head to foot, I was in awe of her. How could such a wonderful and pretty girl like her want to be friends with a stray dog like me? 

I had a wreck of a 1949 Ford pickup at the time that I called "Clyde". Trish said she liked it, and would sometimes ride with me to the nearby gas station for sodas. I saw her at her house several times, then finally went on a date to the movies. I wanted to kiss her so badly, but couldn't muster the nerve. We briefly held hands, but that was it. I beat myself up over that failure, and have continued to do so ever since. Having an oversized longing for romance but too little self esteem really sucks. 

When school began, I went to live with Mother in Waldron, and never saw Trish again.

Author's Note

My muse has been missing for at least two years, but made a brief return today, when I saw Trish in the obituaries. I learned she had been a school teacher, raised a family, and was much loved.

Reviews

[SweetNutmeg]

I'm so pleased you found your way back to writing. I definitely know the sorrow of being neglected by the muse.

If only... Regrets can eat you up. I have a few myself. You said your place of employ didn't matter, but it sounds interesting to me! I'd love to read more about that summer. I love hearing you spin yarns of youth and love and cars. You are inimitable.

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you. After seeing the obituary, I couldn't stop thinking about her. You've probably forgotten, but I described the sanitorium in the first chapter of my novella. As a big employer, it played a large roll in Booneville's economy and history. With TB pretty much eradicated, it now serves a different roll. Of course RFK jr may bring the disease back.

[SweetNutmeg]

It's weird and unhappy to see an obituary of someone you have not seen in a long time. I hope writing helped.

I hate to say it, but I did forget! I am notorious for my poor memory, so it was not lack of interest, just my unfortunate condition. I will have to re-read that. Since I don't remember it, it will be like reading anew. And I love your stories so much.

Damn RFK jr. A lot of things might come back thanks to him. Listeria outbreaks in bagged greens, who knows what kind of dreadful animal bourn diseases, the potential of bird flu jumping to humans, measles and other childhood diseases, the myriad diseases that haunt cruise ships, and the list goes on. I long to see the end of this regime.

[Samuel Dickens]

We are in for some very hard times, thanks to that orange abomination. From top to bottom, his administration is filled with bone heads whose only qualification is loyalty to him.

[Lara]

I really love the way you're able to provide detail enough while maintaining the stories flow. Leaving enough space, at the same time, for the reader to slide into the story...

I've just read a couple more pieces of your work and see that (somehow!?) you do this with reliable regularity.
It makes for a very special visit to your writing, Samuel.
I. Like. This.

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you. I'm very appreciative.

[MCS]

Lost opportunities are the things that we regret later in life. Bittersweet story told in your exceptional style. Thank you my friend.

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you. If only go back and whisper in our young ears.

[Betty Hermelee]

Dear Sam
Oh those memories of being a budding teen in the 60's, a summer of hope turned into a real disappointment, but one can't blame themselves for "botching" a date... it happens all the time and one can learn from that date...what to do with the next one...your story is real, very sympatico and real and I enjoyed it very much... keep those memories alive!!!
Warmly, B

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you. Live and learn--right?

[Betty Hermelee]

Absolutely! Always a pleasure!🌷
Warmly
B

[Lorry]

Such a sad truth behind a happy memory of youth Samuel. Or shouldi say that misread a part of it incorrectly that I must tell you about and it made me fair chuckle.
In your self description I read it as I, an incomplete, developing orgasm!"
😃 maybe because I was a teenage guy once too!
It brought back memories for me too, of movie date where I couldn't even concentrate on the movie, knowing we should kiss. We did later, but only after her asking what thought of the movie in a Cafe afterwards and me admitting to being nervous about the kiss situation and couldn't even tell her the name of the movie.
My honesty paid off and I got that kiss, one of many. Oh and the movie was apparently fast times at ridgemonthighand to this day I've never watched it again!
The messes we get ourselves into at the sight of a smile and hearing she likes you.
Saying that, I'd still do it the same if I ever got the chance to hit repeat on the life machine. 😃