An Amazing Love
Connie Newell, March 2012
In the summer of 1976 I moved to Traverse City, Michigan, to a sweet little rental house right on a main road so I could sit and watch the cars after I got home from my job as an emergency room charge nurse on the afternoon shift at a local hospital. This was the first time that I had ever been totally alone and fortunately the house had a homey quality to it, plus a very small basement apartment rented out to two older people that I rarely saw but at least knew were there.
On March 3rd, 1974, my father flew my mother and my two sons into a cornfield on the way back from Disneyland, which was traumatic enough, but I was also an only child, and separated from my husband, so life felt like I had no place in it except for my job which I was tremendously grateful to have. I ended up fifty miles away from anyone I knew and dimensions away from anyone I loved, so after work on Saturday night I started going out to this little bar not far from my home. I loved music, having been raised with a family who were musicians for generations and they played gigs so I knew that the band that seemed to be a house band practiced many hours and it wasn’t always fun, but it was their job to make it seem like it was.
Going into the bar the first time was very awkward so I took a book! Thought I’d act casual and at least the drunk men would leave me alone. There was a lovely porch area out back of the bar where people could go to talk, drink and smoke a joint if they were so inclined and I was inclined. Alcohol was not for me.
There was a big field that could be seen for miles before the sun completely set and on summer evenings it was nice to get a breath of air and still be able to hear the band play.
The first time I saw him, he was looking at me in a friendly way and he was sitting with 3 other men fairly far away from the band while I sat at a little circular table, near the bar. Fortunately there was a square pole there so I could kind of hide behind that while the people frantically danced to the sounds of the country and western band. The men were drinking beer and when he stood up to go outside I noticed that he was about 6’ 4” tall and was a very muscular man who wore jeans well and looked groomed. Nice haircut and mustache that was not so huge he looked like an idiot, and he wore a well pressed shirt.
Of all the men there, he stood out to me, mostly because he did not try and hustle me, though he would look at me and nod his head hello. He did not dance either, nor did I, and I left when it was nearly closing time and since I had gotten there around midnight, I wasn’t there long, but long enough to get a feel for the place and the band which I liked. Not too twangy, just played “standards” of the times and some R & B, songs that people knew and in a rhythm that I was familiar with, as my dad used to say, “two rags and a loin presser.”
I totally forgot about the man, as I jumped back into my hellacious life, working fast and hard and being more lonely that I ever thought was possible, sitting in the window at my table and watching the night traffic go by. I knew most of the cops from working in ER and if they would go by and see my light on they would hit their lights and siren for a moment, just to let me know they cared.
Several weekends later I remembered the bar and thought I’d go earlier since I wasn’t working that weekend. I put my standard outfit on, jeans and a top and drove up the road and into the parking lot which was full of cars and trucks. I took a deep breath, locked the car and waltzed in with what I hoped was an aura of ease. Saw my table was empty, since who would want to sit where the view was mostly blocked by a beam and people’s backs would be toward the Bar anyway. Good spot.
The five piece band was playing, and after my eyes got used to the dark, I saw the same man sitting at his usual table with the same male friends. He caught my eye and nodded his head so I acknowledged him with a small wave, then looked back down at my trusted book.
Before long the band started playing a loin presser and the dance floor filled up as I looked at the man who was looking at me. He gestured with his hand held out meaning “Would you like to dance?” Ah, well, yeah. So I met him in the middle of the small floor with the loud band playing a nice slow song. He simply reached out and put his arm around me and soon we were easily dancing together, then a miracle, it was very natural to dance with him. Because of his height I had to look way up to see his face which was looking down at me smiling, then he looked away and we finished the dance without saying one word to each other. With the song over we nodded over the din of people and went to our respective corners.This went on most of the evening. My, he was a good dancer and it felt good to even be slightly close to someone listening to music I loved. We would sit some songs out and then he would look at me and we’d be dancing again, mostly to slow songs and he was a perfect gentleman, never holding me too tightly which would have given me cause to never go there again. At intervals I would go out on the back porch and smoke part of a joint, as others were doing, but I kept to myself near the corner. I’d stay there a while, then dub out the joint and go back inside where the alcohol people were sweating and racing around scream talking. I left around 1 a.m. with a nod to the man. I unlocked my car and drove the short distance home. I felt loved.
The next weekend rolled around and after work I was at the bar about midnight and sure enough, there he sat looking at me as I sat down. God, now what?! I always ordered only a coke and I liked it that he didn’t follow me outside when I went, that would have been too much back then. He was very, very handsome and it looked like he could bench press a car, but he had that farmer look to him too. Big belt buckle, jeans tight on his thighs, a variety of checkered shirts that were always perfectly ironed. He smelled delicious too. Warm brown naturally wavy hair that needed no product to make it look wavy and it was always perfectly combed.
Sure enough, it wasn’t long before a slow number started playing and he gestured towards me to dance. We were starting to dance closer and I was less rigid when he put his arms around me. I know he could tell that too and did not do anything I would consider a threat or improper. This went on until closing time when I took my book and headed for the door, stopping to wave at him.
A person can only go so long without human touch, especially if their lives are really messed up and they are lonesome. Lonely people can be driven to do things that are further demoralizing to themselves, so they must hope for a clerk or for, in my case, a patient to touch them or someone who needs a hug. I saw starting to be able to receive some kindness from the man at the bar who was never drunk and seldom ordered more than one beer that he sipped on all night.
I worked every other weekend so the next weekend I was at the bar at 10 p.m. on Saturday night with many other people who weren’t sick, didn’t want me to do anything for them, and I could just relax and enjoy myself. I was starting to relax to the point where I didn’t even bother bringing the book with me.
Of course he was there and of course we danced the night away, mostly slow dances, but a few faster ones and to my surprise he was a great dancer to that type of music also. Who was this guy? I never even talked to him while we were dancing and he didn’t talk to me, it is as if we both had a need to be held and we communicated without words, just a few gestures now and then and after a while, smiles. He had a beautiful smile that made me feel shy, his eyes were so deep and they said all that needed to be said, and I swear they were a golden color with brown flecks in them. Long thick lashes, almost girlie eyes.
As the summer months passed, I was at the bar as many Saturday nights as possible and hated it if I had to miss one because I worked too late or had to be in Cadillac. I began looking forward to these hours with this man and I was developing deep feelings for him. I was in my early thirties and he was about the same age, but I only ever saw him in the dimly lit bar lighting. Maybe he was well past sixty.
The more we danced and our non-relationship grew, the closer we held each other while we danced, to the point where near the end, I was laying my head on his chest and both of his arms were around me. He would enfold my hand that was pressed against his chest with his huge hand and bend his head to touch my face. Our eyes closed and sometimes we would even forget to move our feet, then with an abruptness we would resume the dance. We began to sleep walk our way through the dances and there were no gestures of “do you want to dance” needed anymore, we both knew we wanted to be held by the other so when the band began a slow number we just walked over to the center of the floor. Never did we sit at the same table and never did we go outside at the same time. However, we were very much together.
The first week of September I walked in the bar and he was standing by his table talking to his friends with his back to the door, so I saw one of the friends tell him I was there and he quickly looked over his shoulder and smiled. I got my coke and soon we were swaying to the music and I was safe for a while. I knew no other man would ask me to dance, it seemed that it was an open secret that the band knew, the bar staff knew and most of the people knew. We were an item that no one quite knew what to make of, including me since it was Enough.
That beautiful summer of 1976 was turning into fall so the warm nights I went to the bar to see this man were so very special because as I stood outside on the deck I could almost smell the fall colors and feel the leaves come down softly landing on the porch rails. It was a time of change, an end of a long summer that I knew I would remember forever with gratitude for this man whose name I still did not know. The music played and we danced into the early morning, hugging each other tightly, not wanting to let go when a song ended. Toward the end of the night, just before the lights came on, and at the end of a song, he kissed me on the cheek, so tenderly and sweetly that I would have followed him anywhere, but at the same time I knew that this was going to end.
Soon we would never see each other again and I didn’t even want to know who he was or where he lived or anything about his life or his baggage, I just wanted to hang onto a beautiful moment. To inhale this man, to remember how his arms felt and how commanding his presence was without being over bearing.
With winter just a month away and the holidays coming up, we met at the bar while the porch was no longer a big draw to people because the air blew cold across the field and it wasn’t nearly as welcoming as usual. Some of the picnic tables were leaned up against the wall signaling an end to the season.
We danced every slow dance that night and some of the faster ones, but instead of going to our respective seats to wait for the next number to start we stayed on the dance floor holding hands and waiting. As time took us to the close of the bar, we looked at each other with deep gratitude and he held my face in his hands and said, “Thank you.” My eyes started to fill with tears, so he pulled me close to him and we danced that last dance because neither of us wanted to hear last call and have the lights come up and put that kind of memory at the end of our time together. I went right back to my table, picked up my purse and without looking at him left the bar and drove home. Home?
I threw my purse on the chair and sat down at the table. I lit up a cigarette and looked out to see no traffic. A long dark road with no lights. Tears ran down my cheeks and I felt like I might just die here alone, but then I heard the noise of a siren, looked up and the guys were driving by. Maybe I wasn’t alone after all.
Two weeks later I could not help but go back to the bar just to affirm what I already knew. He was gone and the place didn’t look the same, nor did it feel the same. It was loud and noisy and boring. Even the band had been replaced by three guys playing what they thought was music, but was just noise.
