TheBanyanTree: Tonight's Story

[Mike Pingleton]

Yes on both counts!
-Mike



On Thu, Mar 27, 2014 at 2:22 PM, Theta Brentnall <tybrent at gmail.com> wrote:

> And your dabblings are amazing.  Now you have to call Cece and get an
> update because we all care about what's happening with her!
>
> Theta
>
>
> On 3/27/2014 10:02 AM, Monique Colver wrote:
>
>> Why do I sometimes write well and sometimes not? Who knows? I never spend
>> much time editing, other than cleaning up small things. I just write and
>> post, and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. I'm not a
>> professional, I just dabble.
>> On Mar 27, 2014 5:39 AM, "Kitty Park" <mzzkitty at gmail.com> wrote:
>>
>>  I have a question, Monique, about your writing.
>>>
>>> There's a flow with this piece that I don't always find in what you post.
>>>   In my mind's eye, you sat down, thought for a moment or two about what
>>> you
>>> wanted to convey and then the words put themselves down.  Minimal
>>> editing.
>>>
>>> Now don't misunderstand.  I appreciate reading what you share -- whether
>>> it's goofy or serious.  But there is a quality about this one that sets
>>> it
>>> apart from some of the others.
>>>
>>> Maybe it's *my* mood this morning that is affecting how I regard your
>>> thoughts about Cece.  Bottom line -- this one pulled me in and I was
>>> sorry
>>> when it ended.
>>>
>>> Kitty
>>> <mzzkitty at gmail.com>kcp-parkplace.blogspot.com
>>>   <http://parkplaceohio.com>
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> On Thu, Mar 27, 2014 at 1:31 AM, Monique Colver <
>>> monique.colver at gmail.com
>>>
>>>> wrote:
>>>> I have a friend. She's a friend of a friend who became a friend. She
>>>> used
>>>> to live in Hollywood, the Hollywood, and was married to a guy who was
>>>> big
>>>> in the Scientology thing there. I met her once. She's a down-to-earth
>>>>
>>> women
>>>
>>>> who's happy with living simply, and she didn't care for the Hollywood
>>>> religion.
>>>>
>>>> Years ago when I was broke she insisted I had to go to California to see
>>>>
>>> my
>>>
>>>> grandfather, who was 100 at the time. "But Cece," I told her, "I really
>>>> can't afford to."
>>>>
>>>> "You're going to come see him," she insisted, "You and Andrew both.
>>>>
>>> You'll
>>>
>>>> stay here, and you can borrow my van, and I'll pay for the plane
>>>>
>>> tickets."
>>>
>>>> And she did. She wanted to do it because she wanted us to see Gramps,
>>>> and
>>>> she had the money, and she was insistent, and so we went.
>>>>
>>>> We stayed at her house, we met her family, her husband just for a
>>>> second,
>>>> her disabled daughter for longer. Her disabled daughter, in her teens
>>>>
>>> then,
>>>
>>>> told me I was too old for Andrew, and that he should go out with her
>>>> instead. Cece had her hands full with that one. She had other children,
>>>>
>>> but
>>>
>>>> they were mostly grown and elsewhere, probably free spirits like their
>>>> mother.
>>>>
>>>> We saw Gramps, and he and Andrew had a good talk.He was slower, and
>>>>
>>> seemed
>>>
>>>> tired, but was in good spirits. It was indeed the last chance we'd have
>>>>
>>> to
>>>
>>>> see him -- several months later he was gone, shortly before he would
>>>> have
>>>> turned 101.
>>>>
>>>> We were so grateful to Cece, but she would not entertain the idea of
>>>>
>>> being
>>>
>>>> paid back. She was just happy she could do it for us.
>>>>
>>>> Not too long after that Cece left her husband and moved into the wilds
>>>> of
>>>> California. She'd had enough of his Scientology, something she was in
>>>>
>>> only
>>>
>>>> because he was, and she refused to belong anymore. Contact with her
>>>>
>>> became
>>>
>>>> intermittent. She usually was far from Inter Webs, having to trek into
>>>>
>>> the
>>>
>>>> nearest town to get it. She was free and unfettered, and she moved in
>>>>
>>> with
>>>
>>>> a guy named Terry, a veteran with PTSD, into his trailer out in the
>>>>
>>> desert.
>>>
>>>> Every so often we'd hear from her. Sometimes she'd drunk dial me,
>>>> incoherent and rambling, but still full of love.
>>>>
>>>> Then Terry, the love of her life, blew his brains out while at his desk,
>>>> while she was in the next room.
>>>>
>>>> When I am at my lowest I think of how Cece found him when she heard the
>>>> shot, and I know I could not do that to anyone I love.
>>>>
>>>> Today Cece posted pictures of her trailer, pictures she'd taken when
>>>>
>>> she'd
>>>
>>>> returned from the hospital, where he was pronounced dead.
>>>>
>>>> And there was blood sprayed on the wall, and pooled on the floor, and
>>>>
>>> even
>>>
>>>> at a distance of several years, and in a picture, you can see the pain,
>>>>
>>> all
>>>
>>>> the pain Terry had bottled up inside, until he let it loose to run over
>>>>
>>> the
>>>
>>>> desk and the floor and the walls. Pain is a deep dark red, mostly, once
>>>> it's been released anyway. Before that it can be any color, but when it
>>>> comes out, it's red.
>>>>
>>>> Cece, being Cece, didn't explain the first set of pictures adequately,
>>>>
>>> even
>>>
>>>> though she did say that's what she came home to after Terry was taken to
>>>> the hospital, so people were responding with things like, "OMG Cece!
>>>> When
>>>> did this happen?" "Are you okay?" "What's going on?"
>>>>
>>>> Then she posted pictures of what it looks like now. She has a sense of
>>>> peace there, despite it all. I know she's fallen in love since again,
>>>> and
>>>> maybe out of. It's hard to tell with Cece. She's mercurial, and what's
>>>>
>>> here
>>>
>>>> one day may be something else the next.
>>>>
>>>> She's a lovely spirit, floating through her good times and bad, giving
>>>> whatever she has to give and not giving it a second thought.
>>>>
>>>> It's been awhile since I've had a drunken call from her, but she claims
>>>> that we helped her greatly.
>>>>
>>>> I know she helped me greatly.
>>>>
>>>>
>>>> M
>>>>
>>>>  .
>>
>>
>