Dan O'Neill drove us to an event I won't forget which took place at the O'Farrel Mitchell Brother's Theatre. There I met for the second time in my life a man named Jim Mitchell. He was a conservative looking dapper man, elegant in fact. I tried not to stare at him much because the last memory I have of him is from 30 years ago. He looks so different now, much more polished and he seems shorter in stature than I remember him. I was just 17 when I met him and I met him in Berkeley while traveling with a man named Jerry Allaire who was owner of Undulator Water Beds. Jerry's son was my boyfriend at the time. Back in those days I couldn't go to Berkeley without being chased down for my autograph, well not my autograph but Marilyn Chamber's. Apparently there is a strong resemblence in our looks. I'm told that there still is, not only by friends who used to watch her movies but by those who attended the gig yesterday.
My dear friend Ted Richards was unable to attend this party and wake due to some personal trauma he and his beloved wife are suffering but he gave me a heartfelt message to give both to Jim Mitchell and to a dear friend of his named Vinnie, well toVinnie's family. Vincent had died and was one of the gents we celebrated yesterday. So, I had a few drinks and watched all the people clamor around for the attention of the proprietor and his entourage. Time was passing too quickly and I tried to gain some peace to address these folks on Ted's behalf. I could wait no longer so I walked up behind Mr. Mitchell and rested my head upon his shoulder. I whispered into his ear that Ted truly wanted to be there for him but that his wife was undergoing dramatic eye surgery because her retina suddenly blew out and left her blind. I explained how he also wanted me to celebrate a man named Vinnie's life and to say how much he misses Vinnie that Vinnie had made a huge impact on who Ted is today. Jim Mitchell told me thank you and informed me that the people in the circle he was talking to were Vinnie's family. At first I was surprised that I had such good fortune but then I scoulded myself because I know more than most that there is no such thing as coincidence but that all things of a "chance" nature are part of a universal synergy. So I walked up behind this petite blonde beauty and put my head on her shoulder as she spoke. I asked her to keep speaking but to listen to me. I spoke to her personally the same words I spoke to Jim. She finished her conversation and then quickly turned to me. I felt rude as though I had intruded but the look in her eyes was gracious and warming. So many people wanted to talk to this beautiful lady, but for a brief moment, she took time to let Ted's words comfort her and made me feel at home. She expressed her gratitude and asked me to tell Ted how much those words meant to her. That feeling, that intimate moment, means so much to me even as I type these words. Later, a young beautiful man whom I had seen on stage, walked up to me. I recognized him as one of the comedians and he introduced himself as Vincent's son. He was touched that I took the time to bring them comfort. If only he knew how hard it was for me to do this. I felt so intrusive. I told him I was the one who heckled him and we chuckled together. Man was this young fellow beautiful. Vincent must have been quite a man to have such wonderful friends as Ted Richards and such loving people for a family. There was no pretense amongst them and I again scolded myself for being so anxious. I should have known that they would be gracious. Maybe it was the environment I was in, maybe it was because I was in a sandwiched generation where I had been slightly younger than all those present or too old for the new crowd.
After that little episode I went back to the theatre rooms and spoke to an Irish man next to me. We were the wallpaper in the back of the darkened theatre. We spoke of Vinnie and some people came out of the backstage area dressed in costumes. They made us drink an elixer and eat a wafer. It was a communion of sorts, a debaucherous kind. <smile> I went back out to the main area and watched quietly. The forces were forming and who were they? A group of politicals, Irish in viewpoints. I stood there getting angry because these men whom I care for very much seemed to have all the "right" answers as they spoke of the way things are now here in America.and their remedy was the same old stuff that hasn't worked for Ireland and England over the centuries. It pisses me off that America is left to fight the fight they never resolved. I felt that Liberty and I stood alone, silenced by the intentions of others. An Irish man whom I now know was an enemy to my fired up political pals, had taken notice of me. He told me I was one sexy Irish woman. I fired off indignantly, "I sir, am an American woman and I'm pissed off right now." He looked over to those who were dear to me and scoffed. That should have been my first warning.
From there I went into a diatribe as he and I spoke of things political in nature. I began to heave out a storm of tears and anguish. We all speak of revolution but even revolution has never brought us answers or solutions, only attention and heartache amidst needless death. I said, America is better than this. I asked, "What good is freedom without Liberty? Freedom is merely a disclaimer at the bottom of some writ executed on the backs of innocents." I sobbed and hid behind the man so my friends wouldn't see me in that state. He said lets go to where we can talk about this in privacy. He pulled me into the darkened room lit only with red lights titled "Copenhagen." Every time I spewed forth my anguish that Liberty is alone without anyone to defend her I sobbed out of control. Anger was my companion and true absolute grief. He sought to get down my pants in order to comfort me. I looked at the red light above my head and thought, I'm better than this and this man seeks my fruits but hasn't the decency to listen to my message. So I walked out but not until I had asked, " Do you have my back?" His answer was no. He maintained that I am an Irish woman but I can't remember the phrase he used. It was derrogatory in essence and offended me, as though being Irish is such a bad thing. It was a remnant of a fight I never took part in for I am an American, Irish only in descent. I laugh today because this is the stuff I always seem to find on my pathway of truth.
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