Gratitude
We come to know different kinds of love in different situations. I know that when I was young on Shady Avenue Ext. my closest friend was Naomi who lived up the street. We never said “I love you” to each other but we loved each other anyway. Never jealous, we didn’t compete–in fact nobody competed with anybody else on our street but that’s a different subject.
And the love I had for my cousin Maxine was in a class by itself. This is the same with another cousin of mine.
However, there was someone in my life who loved me and I wish I knew where he was so I could tell him this. I met Lee Goldstein when I was 15. I pretty much liked all boys then but Lee fell for me and never stopped loving me for the next ten years. It sounds so strange to read that but it’s true.
Every time I needed someone he appeared. We went out together in between the times that I was involved with somebody else. How horrible that sounds!! It was just that he loved me more than I loved him. I do not think I loved him at all for those ten years. I can’t kid myself about that.
Lee’s family had a lot of money. They had started a family business which became wildly successful practically overnight. Lee drove a nice car, always had money to take me to the best places–and of course my parents adored him. I kept telling myself: “Just try a little harder. Maybe you’ll come to love him. How happy everybody would be!!” Even our initials were alike.
After my heart got pulverized in my senior year at Allderdice, Lee rushed in. He was a freshman at Penn State; when I called him and asked him to take me to our senior prom, he practically cried. He said he had a ton of school work and exams coming up and couldn’t leave. When I chose Penn State for myself, it was mostly because Lee was there. A ready-made boyfriend. Could a girl ask for more? This is a good time to add that I wasn’t thinking about career plans or courses to take.
I remember clearly the day that Lee drove over to pick me up to go to Penn State. He carried all my luggage, was polite to my parents and my father, I know, felt assured that I was safe with Lee. So, so perfect…
We had it all planned out. We were going to get married, etc., etc. The trouble was that I didn’t love him and my heart still hadn’t healed from the stomping it got the year before. But we tried…and tried. One thing I respected about Lee–among his other attributes–was his devotion to his studies. He worked hard and got good grades. He lived in a house called a “quiet dorm.” No loud music, no chaos, just young men who wanted peace and quiet to read and study. The other boys there were all nice.
But something brought all of this to an end. There was a party at Lee’s quiet dorm and we were there. I was not always at my best in crowds and I was feeling shy. Lee kept hissing in my ear to “be nicer to people” and “be more outgoing.” Well, since I didn’t love him it didn’t take long for me to let the whole thing crash down around me. I left the house and walked, late at night, across the whole campus and back to my room. Feeling sicker, I swore off all boys/men forever. But my father got sick and died right after this and I forgot Lee. He didn’t even come when we were sitting shiva.
This weird story of how love can drive you crazy–it has a strange ending. After Mark and I broke up I found out that Lee was a law student at Duquesne University and I called him. Oh how awful to have to admit this (which is why I’m writing this, as a form of apology) but I was definitely on the prowl for somebody to make all the horror and mess of Mark and me go away. (Mark had a nervous breakdown and I couldn’t handle it.) So Lee shows up at my mother and step-father’s house, as usual driving a nice car and dressed well and he takes me out to Tambellini’s. So perfect. My heart was beating and I was thinking that here’s a chance, a real chance at happiness after the last five years of chaos. 1968 to 1973–beginning in my senior year of high school up until Mark–Lee with his splendid manners and fat wallet had the power to take care of me. He took me to see his apartment and opened a little wooden box, holding a picture of me. I was ready-ready-more than ready…but everything suddenly stopped. It all fell to pieces. So Lee took me home and that’s the last time I saw him. Lee, wherever you are, I appreciate your having loved me for so long and carrying my luggage out to your car and whisking me off to Penn State.
lgmwriting 