I’ve crossed the divide now moving me with memories and pause allowing me to remember the bricks and mortar which has brought me here. I balked and balked, finding hindrance in my defects and disappointments. Those I don’t really understand. I rise seeing new visions allowing my truth to unfold. Poetry and Abstract painting have been my first art form since I was 13. Now I found myself being recognized for manipulation of truths that challenge my perceptions. But for whatever reason at 13 the local Art gallery recognizes my abstractions. No more realistic paintings.This has been a truth I found causing me not to know where or how I fit. It didn’t matter because I loved what fell in front of me and it worked in my own imagination.
My memory takes me back to my first concert where I couldn’t go backstage. No amount of stretching reality could get me backstage for there was no backstage, just a motorcade letting the Artists Peter and Gordon walk between armed guards escorting them to the stage. Girls screaming, crying while Peter and Gordan, guitars over their shoulder, stepped on stage in the middle of The War Memorial which often doubled as a sports arena. They began to sing. “ World without Love.” I only remember the beginning words;
“Please lock me away
And don’t allow the day
Here inside where I hide
With my loneliness
I don’t care what they say I won’t stay
in a world without love.” Written by Lennon-McCarthy
Decades later looking at the truth of this became a theme for myself and my generation. Loving everything that came to my experience followed as I went back up to my radio station where I hung out in my excitement.
Later I went up in visible disappointment and one of my radio announcers Who I had adopted, told me when they would be at the airport and off I went to the airport with two of my girlfriends. At that time no one was protecting them from teenage girls. We went and they were hanging at the bar. Gordon was at the end of the bar with a drink in his hand welcoming young girls. Interestingly enough Peter was sitting at the end of the bar and I remember him in his solitude more than I remember Gordon. Quiet and alone Peter sat with his red hair and dark horn rimmed glasses. We chatted to Gordon and he was brazen with comments and charm. In England they would call him “Cheeky.” He definitely was to me, bold , brash and a bit rude. I got my photo taken with him, long since gone but not the memory. As he stood with me for my photo with him he talked into my cheek and whispered. “ I bet you're a Virgin.” Well shocked I was as I still hold on to the memory.
So here I was and watching Peter Asher relive his past in a visual and Musical Autobiography. This fun came to me as a young radio personality told me now of his being at a bar where tributes are often saluted. I stood in line and in my still brazen self went up to Peter Asher much older not for an autograph, I wanted to tell him my story. I did and he told me “after he talked about Gordon and said if I had 20 minute with Gordon alone I wouldn’t have been a virgin. Then Peter Asked; “Well are you a Virgin now!” I laughed and said no. Then he said with his drink in his hand: “You Slut” Wow” Now he was Cheeky.
