The first time

The following is the transcript of an episode of Radio Days - the not really a podcast podcast. During covid we were all so isolated and estranged from one another - so much us WE versus THEY. I thought if we shared our stories somehow, those old ones we had as kids, we would see that we were, essentially, pretty much the same.

*

You can find this and more episodes, if you like, on Spotify, Google Podcasts, IHeartRadio...

*

Welcome to Radio Days. Where we take a look at our past through a poetic lens. I’m Ward, your host. I would love to hear from you. Tell me your stories, your memories. Write to me at: [email protected]. All one word, all lowercase. Or let me know, and we’ll have a chat.

*

We’re gonna jump right into this week’s story. To say much of anything would wreck the surprise. It’s a memory of mine. One of those “first times”. And, as silly as it may sound as we go along, I maintain that it was a pivotal point in my life.

*

They say for all things there is a first time

as I reminisce and I work this rhyme

to coax you back to a time of your own,

before you hear the rest of this poem.

A first time you did that, first time you did this.

You may even recall your very first kiss

or tying your shoes, or riding a bike,

finding wild strawberries on your first family hike…

*

( a disclaimer here: when I started writing this episode, I had no ideas at all, none were sent in to me from listeners, so I looked out the window, saw what I saw , and I began to write....

*

When you look out your window and up to the sky

at night, you might see satellites floating by.

Just this side of 5000 are there,

up in the heavens, beyond where there’s air!

And the world it keeps turning

and we all do our thing.

Lovers keep yearning, morning birds sing.

Oceans keep churning, birds take again to the wing,

and day turns to night and again, back to day.

And the pattern repeats in the very same way.

Under our sun is there anything new?

I ask all of you as I stare up at blue

And the sky offers up a silent reply

And the wind whispers secrets and passes on by

Is there no one with answers - no one else I can try?

Am I stuck once again with myself, me, and I?

It seems that I am, well, what can you do?

I've still got tricks up my sleeve, not a lot, but a few!

So I’ll venture my way back in time once again.

I’m certain that new was a-happenin' then;

Back when I was two years before ten.

That’s a long time ago. Can you remember that far?

They tease that I rode on a horse not a car -

the young ones, they do, as we did to the old;

to them all is new. They don’t need to be told

how we had it so hard, that life was so tough -

to school back and forth uphill was so rough.

It wasn’t! My school was just down the block

I think to myself, as I turn back the clock

to 1970. This story takes place

amidst a cold war and a global arms race,

both of which I knew nothing about.

When people past thirty were looked on with doubt.

Janis and Jimi died that same year,

when everyone learned to protest in fear

(after they shot those kids at Kent State).

Me? I knew nothing. I was just eight.

I didn’t know that the Beatles were done.

My parents made sure my focus was fun.

The news was turned off, I didn’t know when

the U.S took the fight all the way to Phnom Penh,

The Concorde went supersonic and 13 it got back!

If I did know of that, I hope you’ll cut me some slack.

I sat in my little, silent cone with Disney,

one eye on the Wishbook and the other TV,

learning to sing A B C - 1 2 3!

‘Cause I don’t remember all that big adult stuff,

but my heart it got broken

and that was enough.

*

Now, as far as I know, there was only one boy like me -

a weirdo who didn’t think girls were yucky.

And, like me when he ran, he ran really fast.

Even so, when we raced. I was first, he was last.

Just by a bit, but a win is a win.

As I recall, he was almost my twin:

same brush cut hair, same little chin.

He liked girls, Dale did, and boy, so did I!

I even bet Cindy two quarters to try

to kiss me 50 times in one day!

I’d let her catch me, then run away.

A penny per kiss if she got them all in.

She never collected, I think with a grin.

Once again, I digress, I do tend to ramble,

but in my defense, it’s earnest preamble,

setting the scene for the most beautiful creature,

and too bad for me, ‘cause she was my teacher.

Even now when I think it, I can’t help but smile.

There’s no way she could know, everyday, all the while

she taught us , I hoped she talked just to me!

That I hated the thought of leaving at three.

And the best part? Her lipstick was purple!

And most everyday, I would see her pull

a band off her head and her hair would fall free.

Her fingers would comb it over her shoulder

and I’d curse my luck that I wasn’t born older.

I knew in my heart that we never could be;

She was my teacher, and I was grade three.

I pined just the same; oh, if she only knew

that my heart was hers ever since past grade two!

Skip ahead to the weekend - I don’t remember what day.

Ricky and Will and I had a play,

a skate at a rink, not too far away.

But it wasn’t a rink where I’d ever been.

And it showed a me truth that I wish I’d not seen.

The snow, it fell lightly, and breath filled the air.

Lights were flickering on

and right then and there…she was!

I knew the slope of that shoulder,

the curve of that hip,

but before I could speak,

my teeth bit my lip.

At the end of her arm her mitten held tight

to the glove of the fellow, just there, on her right.

They were just up ahead and skating away.

As they rounded the curve, my pink heart - it turned gray.

She looked at him like I felt for her,

and she leaned her head over and onto the fur

of his jacket shoulder and they skated as one.

And I went to the bench and I sat. I was done.

Ricky and Will asked if I was alright.

I said that I was, that my laces weren’t tight.

I just had to breathe - try to gain my composure;

as I stifled the feelings that risked full explosure!

And I swallowed my heart, as a part of it died,

and through it all, I know I never cried.

My two bestest friends, they never knew

what happened to me, what I’m telling to you,

that day, when a part of a boy turned to man.

I hear it’s all part of some unwritten plan,

but we live in the now, we don’t live in the past.

Even so, some first time memories last.

*

That was ’The First Time”- a true story- thanks for listening. Feel free to share this podcast with friends if you like or contact me with any thoughts you might have. If you would like to share any story with me, write me at [email protected], all one word, all lowercase. We’ll figure out a story and write something worthy. I am double O rated - I’m licensed to quill.

I look forward to hearing from you. Bye for now.

(last disclaimer- writing one of these a week was a gargantuan task - okay if it was a full time job.....)