A True Love Forever Lost

Love! What a very strange word. I've heard it so often. "Man, I love my new car." "I'd love to see the game." I have heard it ever since I popped out of my Mommy just a year before my first birthday. Oh yes! I've used it quite a few times, but outside of my family, I've NEVER felt love.

For me, I have seen what it looks like by watching television. I've seen the kisses. I've seen the weddings. I never thought that I would contribute my own adventures as well. Since it started, though, I have always maintained back then that I would NEVER get married. I guess that the old expression is correct. "Be careful of what you wish for. You just might get it." As a witness to what I have been through, it is correct.

I have had many crushes in my life, but for the sake of my story, I will start with high school. I attended a great school known as Christ the King High School in Middle Village here in New York. It was a magnificent, W-shaped building surrounded by a huge cemetery. The main road intersected the cemetery and my school was located next to one-half of the burial ground. Still, it did not bother me that in the pre-GPS age, it was easy to locate the place. Look for the cemetery. Now, I will admit that I was kind of creepy at times. When school was done for the day, I was known to have traveled to the grave sites just to get to the other side. My friends did it. Why couldn't I? Still, it was getting to be a part of my life.

CK, for me, started out as a co-divisional school. One side was designated for the girls and the other side was for the boys. We were really two schools with the same name under the same roof. There were two principals and two of everyone else, faculty-wise. There was even a clear border between the two schools. I would be lying if I told you that I never challenged that border. Yes, I got caught quite a few times and marched back to the boys' side by the girls' dean. I even tried to pretend on one occasion to feign blindness in order not to get into trouble. Standing there and reading a poster on the wall kind of defeated my mission since the dang thing wasn't printed in Braille, a language I don't know anyway. So, I really did not know many of my female counterparts. I knew of a few, but that was it. I did learn what it must be like to be some sort of celebrity because more people knew my name than I knew theirs. Many times, I just waved of displayed a Jack-O-lantern grin and moved onward.

During my third year, this Catholic boy decided to somewhat save his soul and found a very legitimate reason to be on the girls' side. I decided to go to the girls' chapel and attend morning Mass. I made it my daily ritual on Wednesday mornings. This is when my love mission truly got started.

It was a nice Wednesday morning. I arrived just before Father came out to start Mass. I sat, as I always do, in the back row in order to see who was there. I also sat there because I needed to dash out when Mass was over because my first class was way on the other side of the property. Lateness meant detention and I simply could not afford to get detention. I did not want to miss band practice. This morning, however, God started talking to me. Yes, He spoke to me. There was a very lovely young lady there. She glanced at me at first and then looked back up front. I could not take my eyes off her. She looked like a much smaller version of the actress Karen Valentine with glasses. I just had to meet her. I never saw her before. My mission was about to begin.

I said my responses and listened to the readings. While all of that was going on outside of my cranium, my mind was cooking up a scheme in order to meet her. There was only one other way to do so and time was of the essence. It was now or never. There was only one way to do so. I had to shake her hand during the Handshake of Peace. As we got closer to that part of the Mass, I quickly gathered my things because not only was I going to shake her hand, but I planned to sit with her. When we got to that part of the Mass, I said, "Okay. You can do this. Get ready. Get set. Go!!!" I dashed across the aisle I was quick. I did not think that I would be noticed until something happened. My darn trumpet mouthpiece fell out of my pocket and hit the marble floor. It sounded like one of the bells from St. Mary's. The sound rang out very nicely. Everyone looked to see where it was coming from. I had no other choice but to reach down and pick it up. Well, folks knew at that point. I nudged my way next to Little Karen and introduced myself.

"Peace be with you. By the way, my name is Maurice."

That day, was the beginning of a nice thing. I felt all warm inside, but in a good way. We exchanged letters and so forth. I would carry mine more than a hanky. That letter went wherever I went. I used to take it out and read it over and over. That poor letter never stood a chance. Taping it up would have only made the paper much more brittle. I had no way of saving it and was determined to not let it fall into the wrong hands. I did not need friends ridiculing me or family laughing at me. So, I did the only thing I could do. I read her letter one last time, went outside to my yard at 8 PM and took a match to the letter while depositing it into an ashtray. I stayed until the fire was out. The letter was now history.

The rest of the school year went on as planned. I had to enjoy my summer vacation. Next year would be my graduation year. Time for big changes as I had planned to attend college. Where, however, would be a good question, but I was determined to attend college somewhere.

During the last year of high school, the S.S. Maurice hit its own iceberg. His name was Ted. It seems that Ted also met Little Karen and both became quite smitten with each other. What a disaster for me. I wanted Little Karen back, but the set up was beyond. I was a senior, Ted was a junior and Little Karen was a sophomore. After I graduated, he would be there with her. All during that year, I spent my energy trying to win her back. Even though I put my heart into it, I just felt that it was not going to change. Still, I held out hope.

One day, as I was returning to the boys' side from the girls' side, my heart stopped. No, I was not having a heart attack or some other medical emergency. No, I saw someone who made my knees weak and locked my eyes. She was the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Not even full grown women could compete with her. I could not believe it. She walked like a lady. She smiled like a lady. She even carried herself like a lady. I have never seen one with such beauty. I did not even get her name. I felt that, even though Little Karen and I were broken up, it was cheating on her. I made no move toward the new girl. Whatever I felt for Little Karen was times a million for this new stranger to me.

Even though I could not get Little Karen back, I still had the new lady in my mind. After a while, I learned that her name was Anne and she was also a senior. That presented both good and bad stuff. Good because she was also a senior. Bad because I did not have the nerve to introduce myself. Didn't matter. Everyone in the building knew who I was and that I was a trumpet player. So, Anne most likely knew who I was. I still did not hear her voice. I am sure that it was as lovely as she looked. I did not know what she was going to do after leaving CK either. That is what happens when your tongue malfunctions at times like this. I would see Anne from time to time around the building, but I was still grasping at straws with Little Karen.

Graduation came and left. I finally had my high school diploma. I was so happy. I was ready to take on the world.

I went on to college. I missed Little Karen and was only able to imagine what she was doing with Ted. At some point, she told me that she and Ted were going to get married. I wanted to punch the nearest wall to me, but knowing me, the only thing I would have broken was my hand. I had another mission. I had to transition from a one building institution of education to a multi building institution of higher education. Yes, I made it to St. John's University.

I always wanted to be a teacher even though the subject was unknown to me. I also had to struggle with my immaturity as well. Instead of being a stellar student, I found more playtime. The fact that I made it through my first four years amazes me even to this very day. Still, I did it. Why did I bring up my immaturity? I saw her again! Anne was here and we were now schoolmates even though we did not attend the same classes. She was so beautiful at CK, but she was now blossoming into a real woman. No, a real lady! Her hair was different, but the smile was the same. Her makeup really did not add much beauty to her because she was more beautiful than Max factor or Maybelline could ever imagine. Still, I could not muster the courage to approach her. I was so certain, without asking, that she had a boyfriend and was possibly engaged to be married. I could just hear my heart crashing and burning as it hit the Earth. We were just two different people. She had a car. I had a 10-speed bicycle. She lived in western Queens. I lived in Southeast Queens. She was white. I am black. Tony and Maria from "West Side Story" wouldn't have anything on us.

We graduated with our Bachelor degrees in 1978, four years after we finished high school together. Anne went on her path in business and I took mine in education. For years, I always thought of her wishing that I was the lucky guy in her life. I figured that she was probably already married with a child or two along the way. Me? It was one disastrous date after another, day after day, month after month, year after year.

As the years went on, I realized that her address was in our high school yearbook. I promised myself that one day—ONE DAY—I would look Anne up and take a chance to ask her out. What was the worst that could happen? Would her husband punch me in the nose? Probably, but that was a chance I had to take. That was based on the assumption that she had a husband. How could she not be married? She was so desirable. There had to be a wedding ring on her finger. I just never put one on her very lovely finger.

Well, days became weeks, months, years and even decades. It was 2007. This would be the year that I would find Anne I still loved her. No other gal that I met, including Little Karen, could compete with her. Little Karen moved to Florida. If she and Anne were in the same room together and I had to choose, Anne would win very easily each and every time a vote was taken. During the year, I saw Anne's picture in a local news paper. I still had to find her, but I never lifted a finger to do so. In 2008, my nice little Toyota Celica converted itself into a rolling Hibachi. The engine fire was lively. My car burned to a crisp on that nice last day of September of 2008. I needed a new car, a reliable vehicle. After much haggling at home, I took over the Jeep, my present vehicle, that was sitting in my driveway. The next year, I had to swap out the old engine for a newer one. After 42,400 later, I was ready to go find Anne.

My heart crashed for good in 2009. I learned some truly devastating news. It seems that a month after my car fire, God called Anne home. Cancer was the culprit. God's angels were now complete.

Lately, I go to her grave at St. John's Cemetery. I will stand there, pray, talk and yes, cry. She is buried along the same road where our high school is located. I could visit the school and then go to her grave to talk with her. I truly don't know if she could hear me. I was an idiot. Fortunately, one of our favorite classmates who works in Anne's parish was able to verify something very important: Anne never married or had children! Was she waiting for me? Was she too busy to marry? Did she want to remain single Folks, a grave doesn't talk. It is just there. You can say anything you want, but you will not hear the answer. When we pray, we always follow the prayer with a definitive AMEN. After my prayers, though, I follow my prayers with some very simple words, words that I should have said but never said before.

"Anne, I love you!"

So, if you are young and somewhere in your lifespan as dumb as I was, open up your eyes. He or she could be there. That person could have been there all long. Say something nice. Make the first nice move. She would love a flower or some nice compliment. Ask him if you could share his company. Perhaps he needs an ear to listen to him. Who knows? Love is in the air. Stand up and take a deep breath!