Saturday’s Theme Music

I was working at the community table yesterday in the coffee shop. Another couple joined me. Plenty of space, no prob.

The community table is usually used by people powering up ‘puters. This company were only sitting and chatting. They were to my left. She was closer. He was keeping his voice low and demonstrating a pensive, almost furtive air, as if afraid of being overheard.

I don’t pay them — or anyone at the table — much attention; I’m there to do my thang. But I do often hear on some level. It’s part of the background blend of the coffee house business environment. He was complaining about another woman, and what she said and did. (Wife? Sister? Friend?) Whatever she did (his voice dropped into the bowels of softness when he addressed this) had him very upside. (Mother? But he looked in his fifties..) (Co-worker?)

Then the woman said, “You and I know what she will do, and does do. Others won’t know until they experience.”

“I still need to warn them.”

“I know, I understand, I understand.”

Drinks were consumed in silence for a little time. (Ah, secrets. Insights. The things that we know that others don’t.)

I left soon after (nothing to do with them, just finished for the day). Walking along, thinking about my writing, etc., (clouds were moving in, and the sun’s heat was missed), I slipped back onto her comment, “You and I know.” That planted the seed of an old Dave Mason song, “Only You and I know”.

I had to think a while as I walked about what year that song must’ve come out. Fitting it into my personal history, I struggled – ’69, ’70, 71? Had to wiki it upon my return: 1970.

That prompted a death check to confirm Dave Mason is still kicking (he is, seventy-three years old). I enjoy the song (along with the Bonnie and Delaney version) but haven’t heard it in a looonnng time. So I fixed that last night, and share it with you today.

4 thoughts on “Saturday’s Theme Music

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  1. We must always write a story. What passed through my head as I thought about them later, the possibilities of passion, crime, fear…ah. She, with her regal composure, though she looked older than him, and he, with his worn and beaten appearance (like an old rug in the foyer that needs replaced) were much different. He called her, I think. She’s his ally, confidante, his anchor. He wanted to rush right over and talk to her about this latest burst. But she calmed him and prevailed, suggesting a coffee house rendezvous.

    The last time anyone remembered seeing her was after the two left the coffee house. She’d apparently disappeared in the four block walk from the coffee shop to her house. Her absence was reported that evening (she had commitments and failed to show up) (not like her at all). A silver alert was issued.

    Her neighbor (she lived in one of those railroad district cottages, an old, well-maintained place built in 1910) knew about her meeting with him, so that was passed to the police. They went by, to see if she was with him. His house was an old place which looked older (like him). When they told him that they were looking for her, he collapsed on the floor.

    What we know (through friends, neighbors, and records) is that she is ten years older than him (she had once been a model, “When I lived in New York,” she dismissed it with a smile). They’d been lovers (a secret affair) (both played wind instruments, and their affair, ten years before, had started from recurring fun sessions in another band member’s living room). She was a retired teacher and he’d been an oil executive (his wife had died two years before the affair, which may have been the thing that broke him).

    But the things that we don’t know…like what they told each other during their affair. And the secrets that they realized that they knew.

    No one else knew.



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