THEN THERE WAS THE TIME #3

Altered Note to Future Self #17 / 2018 / Artwork by Russell C. Smith

Then there was the time when Joyce entered our group of friends. We were all 18, and in the places one gets to in life when you’re 18 years old. In other words, a whole lot of different places. I was drawing every day, and riding my ten-speed down to the St. Petersburg Arts Center and drawing from the nude model on Tuesday nights. I found it amusing it was called “Life Drawing” since life was everything and everywhere. I guess especially so when you’re being drawn by a group of people, and naked and lit up. Joyce had recently moved down to St. Pete  from Philadelphia, with her parents. She loved Joni Mitchell and Bruce Springsteen, reading and writing poetry, cats, and smoking cigarettes. Anytime Springsteen played anywhere in the state of Florida, or Georgia, she drove or flew there to see the show. It was the mid-seventies, back when the only perfume a girl wore was the scent of marijuana lingering in her hair. Joyce came into our circle of friends through her friend who was dating one of us. Joyce was more fun, and her friend Cyndi didn’t get our sense of humor or taste in music. She didn’t hang around for long. Joyce stayed put. I showed her my poems, and she showed me hers. My group of friends had all been drinking before we were 18, and had had amusing experiences and gone to parties we’d heard about through the Junior High underground. I remember one such party when we’d gone to a house at the end of a dirt road, mumbled we knew so and so, and headed for the keg in the backyard. Afterwards, as we weaved our way back to the main road, Bill said, “I think we’re all ridiculously drunk.” At that time, anywhere in Pinellas County, pot was easier to get than alcohol. It seemed like it was growing on trees in Florida, and just dropped into the laps of older sisters or cool uncles, who passed joints on to us. But to legally go into bars and hang out was a new experience. Our bar of choice was named Clancy’s, and it was located halfway between Pinellas Park and St. Pete Beach. Hanging out there sometimes felt like being in a movie, and the movie’s soundtrack was blasting from the jukebox. Talking over pitchers of beer, and those who smoked could smoke, and those who didn’t, just didn’t care. The volume of the bar was turned up to laughing and shouting, with lips to ears whispering going in the dark corners. We had no idea we were in a major life transition phase, and only recognized it several years later, in retrospect. Seems there are sections of your life you can only see clearly in the rear-view mirror. I was  riding my bike to  St. Pete Beach as well as drawing everything, starting with people, portraits, bodies, and body parts. Moving on to teacups, sneakers, toothpaste tubes, and the TV screen among other things. Joyce got a cashier job at a place on the beach called the Out-Of-Site Shop! It was far out. It carried waterpipes, underground comics, and 70s style clothing. One night Joyce gave Bill, his brother Victor, and me a ride to Clancy’s. She pulled into the parking lot and said something like, “We’re all good friends, right?” We all agreed. “How about if I kiss each of you, just to see what it’s like?” “Sure,” we said. And so, she did. Leaning from the driver’s seat, sideways to kiss Bill. Leaning back and turning to kiss me behind the front seat. Stretching at an angle sideways to kiss Victor. After each kiss, Joyce made an “umm” sound and let out a breath, along with a smile. Bill asked which kiss she liked best. Joyce said, “It would be silly to tell. What’s to be gained by hurting the feelings of two of you?” “What a lovely thing to say, “ I said.