In My Mind I'm Going Back to Seaford

A combination of things gifted me with the loveliest of dreams last night.  I went back in time -- 40 years, to a pleasant and not too meaningful night of my youth, or yout, as Cousin Vinnie would say.

I guess it was the recent trip to NY, and maybe the cool breezes coming through our bedroom windows, that made the setting more Long Island and less Miami.  The Benadryl probably didn't hurt, either, and as I give it some thought, I now recall that earlier in the night, when I met Pat and John at Trulucks for an adult beverage, the music playing in the background was from the 70s...

All I know is, I awoke at a most acceptable time of 6:30 (these days, if I can get up after 4 am it's a great night's sleep), and I didn't know where I was.  I was, of course, emerging from this dream, not one of deep significance, but oh so delightful.

It must have been 1976 or so.  My gang consisted of Eric, Mark, Mike, Gerry, and John.  We had all been buddies since kindergarten, and we attended MacArthur High in Levittown.  We had happy adolescences, or so I thought at the time.  As the years went by, I would learn about cruelty and dysfunction, but at the time we were all content kids.  Mark had shoulder length blonde hair and looked like Peter Frampton.  Gerry was the philosopher.  Mike was the athlete, although he had taken a much greater attraction to weed than the fields.  Eric was the electronics whiz and the most clumsy around girls.  John was the only one whose parents were college educated, and he rebelled -- getting lousy grades, but would eventually come around, get a couple of Masters degrees and end up a national expert on Iraq.  I was the charming, funny, chameleon -- happy to be with this group, but also reaching out to the nerdier, college bound kids.  But that night none of this mattered.

Mark and I had been at our local mall -- Sunrise, in Massapequa.  We met exotic girls -- from another high school, Seaford, which was from a far richer 'hood than Levittown.  I truly have no memory of these girls, except that they invited us to a party that Friday at one of their houses.  We accepted -- all of us.

I think it was an early Spring night, probably cool outside.  We walked -- it was probably about 4 or 5 miles.  And the house WAS nicer and bigger than any of ours -- as I recall, close up to Seaford High.  There were other kids there -- all long haired, and wearing Levis.  EVERYONE wore Levis.  The girls had long, straight hair parted in the middle.

I'm sure there was beer, and probably Southern Comfort, for some reason the booze available to teens on Long Island.  And weed, too, in bongs.

But what I remember most was the music -- two albums the girls played over and over: Aerosmith's "Toys in the Attic," a compilation of their greatest hits, and Steve Miller's "Fly Like an Eagle."

I recall Gerry and John and I having an amateur discussion about the music -- John said that with Aerosmith we finally had "our American Zeppelin."  It's funny he was already concerned about nations -- he ended up working for the CIA.  Gerry said he wanted to become like Steve Miller, because he had read somewhere, probably "Rolling Stone," that Miller was rich and managed his money in very un rockstar ways.

But what I remember most about the night, brought to me, happily, in last night's dream, was the freedom.  I had only one person to worry about -- me.  No kids, or wife, or aging, failing parents.  No business partners...just me.  Who was I?  What was in my heart and soul?  How would I get girls?  Where would I go to college, and to study what?  These were the only responsibilities -- and it was exquisite.

So I thank my subconscious for last night's excursion -- back across more than 4 decades -- and back past all the people I have met and become a part of me, from Long Island, to Miami, and all points in between.

Dream on.  Dream on.  Dream until your dreams come true...