Wednesday, April 16, 2014


I was eleven years old.  Head over heals in love with  my classmate James Lee Staley.  I want to marry him. I have already decimated Mrs. Johnson's daisy patch with many rounds of he loves me, he loves me not.

I always cheated and always end on "he loves me."

I want to be happy. I want the dream of a loving husband and a life of love and happiness. I want more than anything on the planet to find someone who can love me. More than anything on the planet...well except a big black stallion with a flowing mane and tail who will only let me ride him....and a candy store. I am after all only eleven.

But i am no ordinary eleven year old.

I have ghost words that haunted me on a deeper level. A very cruel and mean grown up felt the need to grab me by my arm and tell me when I was 3rd grade that I was so ugly that I would never have a husband. But perhaps even more damaging was the person who told me that I would never have a child. Ever. That I would be alone forever.  The "ever" always hissed mockingly in my ear. I grew up knowing that I would always be surrounded by people, but forever alone.

June 1st James was killed in a motorcycle accident. A few days later Mama tossed the obituary page in my lap "did you know him?"

"yes" I whisper and retreat to the solitude of my mind. I stare at his name on the page and feel my soul fracturing.  He died because I loved him. I poisoned him. I vow to never love another living person ever again.


The above an excerpt from previous writings.

 Look what the internet burped up today.


 I have traveled to the city he died in and walked two cemeteries reading each tombstone, looking for this one. I never found it. Know I know why, and where it is located.

I will travel there this summer and do what I have wanted to do since June 1977. Sit and finally grieve.

There is a piece of Jim I carry in my soul, and always will.

Some friends I just refuse to give up.


  1. Wow! Everything in it's own time. RIP JLS.

    1. The site where this is posted is very sweet. Photographers go and shoot cemeteries and post the pictures. This particular one is listed as being 74% completed. I wish things could have been different and I could have attended his funeral.