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Absence Makes the Heart...
The only boyfriend I ever had is marrying a woman named Elijah....Well, who could compete with that?
My partner Pat could! She's my own personal messiah (with apologies to the group that wrote the song, "Your Own Personal Jesus").
This morning, we swam necessarily two lanes apart. Usually, we smile at each other if both of us are doing the breast stroke while swimming toward each other in the same lane. Today, though, Pat managed to catch my eye with her smile from two lanes away.
It shouldn't be surprising that I missed Pat when she went to DeKalb, Illinois for a few days. She was at the R.O.T. ("Reunion of the Twisties") Weekend. Her friends and she, all former Hall Directors at Northern Illinois University, met on this particular weekend, since the students were moving in and Pat and her friends didn't need to do anything as opposed to what they had to do in their former roles 30 years ago.
What was Pat like 30 years ago? Probably, fundamentally the same, other than recognizing her lesbian identity, which she didn't really then: just as funny as she is today, mature when it mattered, and kind and sensitive, again, when it mattered.
Pat's singing to our cats, Phoebe and Toonces, as I write this.
Some more, unrelated thoughts prior to bed: I'm feeling good about the reaction to the partial blog entry I read aloud at tonight's local artist support group session. They liked my honesty and thought each scene was like a Woody Allen vignette(?) I read from 0-20 of my "Swimming Autobiography." Soon, I'd like to be able to come up with another original way to write about my life.