"I Am Always Remembering..."

This Was The Place - Street-level View - Detroit's Iconic Fisher Building

Twenty years ago today, September 27th 2006 it was early Autumn and I was going on a dinner date to meet Stephen Christopher Harris for the first time. Since we'd become online friends in August of that year, we had talked by phone for the first time the week before when he was preparing to return to Detroit from a work assignment in South Carolina. We'd talked a couple of times after that and had exchanged a number of text messages by the time we agreed we'd meet one another for dinner that night.

We made the date earlier that week and I had been so nervously excited about meeting the man that I already I knew I was falling in love with that I couldn't concentrate on anything. When I got out of bed that Wednesday morning and went for my daily run, everything seemed beautiful and right with the world. As I ran down the street, I thought of what I'd talk about with him that evening. By the time I'd run my four miles and finally arrived back home, I had silently said many prayers about my hopes for our meeting that evening. And as I got ready for work, I decided I wanted to take him something that evening. I thought of  flowers at first, but then remembered he mentioned liking sweets, so I settled on candy instead.

I left work early that day so that I could stop to buy a box of candy for Stephen. But as I looked at the boxed chocolates, the boxes all seemed too "girly" in their decoration and I worried that he'd get the wrong idea of how I thought of him if I gave him something like that. And I didn't want him to think me too effeminate either. Instead, I bought a dozen assorted candy bars deciding I would wrap them as a present in some way when I got home.

At home, I searched through my big box of gift wrapping supplies in the attic until I found a lovely gold foil covered box with a matching ribbon and bow. It had actually been a candy box from Christmas the year before, but it didn't have any markings on it at all.  I lined it with tissue paper and arranged the candy bars inside and closed it and stretched the ribbon and bow from corner to corner. I thought it looked great and I thought to myself, this looks "manly" enough. Then I turned my attention to getting myself ready for my anxiously anticipated date.

I was so tense and nervous that I hadn't realized how long I'd been in the shower until the water finally began to run cool. As I rinsed myself under the cool water, finally I felt some of the intense stress begin to subside. As I dried myself and as I wiped away the fog on the mirror, I paused to look at myself and I thought, "You haven't done much with this body have you...?" And I wondered if he'd really find me attractive or even handsome in any way... But still, I hoped he would.

In Stephen's comments on my blog and in our brief conversations, he'd alluded to his thinking of me as being handsome, although I never thought as much about myself. I remembered I had wondered all that day if he would look like his profile photo... although you couldn't see his face, you could see he was well-built, muscular and handsome. A friend who'd seen his Yahoo 360 photo suggested that it probably wasn't him. And to be honest, I though as much as well, but I had decided that I really didn't care one way or the other... so long as he was as "nice" as he had seemed to be in his comments and in the few conversations that we'd had up until then. As I daydreamed in the mirror, I caught sight of the time and I quickly shaved and preened and groomed like had I never done before as my thoughts turned back to wondering what it was that he saw in me... Although I had more than a few pictures of myself posted on my blog and I was sure that he had a good idea of what I looked like, I hoped it was what I revealed about my heart that interested him most.

When I emerged from my bath, I rethought and agonized over what I should wear so much so that I was nearly in a panic as I changed shirts and pants repeatedly, never satisfied with how I looked. In the end, I put back on the first outfit I'd tried. It was the same one that I'd picked out the night before, black twill pants, a tan faux silk shirt, a black sweater vest and black dress shoes. Finally, surrounded by half my wardrobe on the floor around me, I stood in the mirror gazing at myself again from all angles as I practiced sucking in my gut, sticking my chest out and leveling my shoulders. Finally I thought, "Okay, you're ready... but remember, first impressions are lasting ones..." As I put on my best watch and the one other piece of jewelry I owned, my class ring from college, I grabbed the box of candy bars from the dresser and I headed downstairs.

I grabbed my best jacket from the closet and I stepped into the dining room and picked up my Mother's photo from the top of the server. As I looked down at my Mom's picture, I asked her to wish me luck. And as I replaced the photo and was about to leave, I thought to pray. I got down on my knees and I asked that God might watch over me as I went out seeking what I already knew I was hoping would be true love. I prayed that we both might have discernment about one another and that we might both know if we could find in each other the precious desires of our hearts. Although I had been nervous up to then, when I ended my prayer and stood up again, I felt warm, calm and genuinely happy. I walked to my front door, took a deep breath and stepped across my threshold knowing there would be no turning back.

As I drove the five or six miles to the restaurant, I practiced the greeting I'd settled on... "Hi Stephen, it's great to finally meet you!" Over and over again... "Hi Stephen..." Until finally it felt comfortable and natural. By this time I had arrived at my destination, I was on West Grand Boulevard in front of the Fisher building. As I circled the building looking for a space to park, I found one right across from the restaurant entrance. When I checked my watch, I realized that I was way early... it was only a couple of minutes past 7 pm. We'd arrange to meet at the bar of the Grand City Grille at 7:30, so I sat in my car and wondered with each car that passed, "Is that him...?" Then finally, at a quarter after 7, I got out, walked across the street and into the building. When I got into the restaurant, I told the hostess that I wanted to wait at the bar for my dinner companion. It was a Wednesday night, and the restaurant wasn't very busy at all. The hostess pointed me in the direction of the bar and I took up a seat off to the side.

I had scanned the bar area before I sat down and none of the other patrons looked even remotely like they could be Stephen and so I realized that I had arrived first. I thought, "Well, if I'm going to sit here, I should order a drink." I didn't drink at the time and I hadn't had an alcoholic drink since 1995, so when the bartender asked what I was having, I wasn't sure what to ask for. I quickly settled on a Pepsi and as soon as I said it and saw the bartender begin to fill the glass, I regretted it. I thought, "What will he think if he sees me sitting here with a Pepsi?" So I quickly gulped it down. Sitting there with my empty glass, time seemed to have slowed down and I found myself in deep contemplation about whether to eat the maraschino cherry that sat on top of the ice. But as I was thinking about the cherry, I felt a hand on my shoulder and as I turned on the bar stool, I instantly recognized him, Stephen was standing there before me.

It seems strange to me now, but my very first thought upon seeing him was that he was not as tall as I had imagined him... Although we'd never discussed our height or any aspects of our appearances, I was genuinely surprised that I was good bit taller than him. I remember he was casually dressed, yet there was a distinctive "crispness" about his appearance. He was wearing blue jeans and a fitted white dress shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders and trim waist. He was well groomed from head to toe and I could smell his cologne and it was as intoxicating as his appearance. I thought happily, the photo in his profile was indeed of him. He was quite handsome and I felt myself begin to blush as my blood ran warm in my veins and what must have been a very happy smile appeared on my lips.

"Christopher...?" he said to me as I stumbled to get out my well practiced greeting... Instead, I said, "Yes... Stephen...?" And then we were both smiling broadly as he extended his arm and I shook his hand. He began to apologize that he was a little late, but I looked at my watch and said, "No, you're right on time, it's exactly 7:30." Then, although he hadn't taken a seat, the bartender came over and asked what he'd like, and Stephen said, "Nothing thanks." Then he asked me, "Are you ready to eat?" I said, yes and he turned and signaled to the hostess who came over and seated us in a corner booth with a round table. At first we were both kind of clinging to the opposite open ends of the booth such that the full width of the table was between us, but then he slid further around towards the middle and invited me to do the same by motioning for me to move over onto the seat next to him. I moved closer and we started to talk...

When the waiter came with the menus, we had both become so comfortable and engrossed with each other, that we didn't even notice him until, he placed the menus in front of us. As the waiter told us of the specials, I think he realized that we were on a date, his own smile gave it away. As he asked about drinks, Stephen asked what I'd like, I said a Pepsi and he ordered ice water with lemon for himself. When the waiter left to get our drinks, Stephen said he likes to drink a lot of water and always has lemon. That became my first mental note about his likes and dislikes, and as we talked, in the back of my mind, I carefully recorded it as an important fact. As we perused the menu, he asked what I'd like, telling me, "Have whatever you want, this is my treat!" And we talked about what was on offer, he settled on a New York Strip Steak and I chose Roasted Garlic Chicken with Fettuccine.

When the waiter returned, he still had that "knowing" smile on his face and it didn't bother me at all. I was in the midst of my coming out to my family and friends and it felt good to be out and about in the world, just being myself and being unafraid. As he sat the drinks on the table, he asked, "Are we ready to order gentlemen?" and Stephen immediately said, "Yes, we are... I"ll have the New York Strip medium well with the loaded potato and can I get asparagus with that?" The waiter said, "Yes, you can, and for you Sir?" and before I could speak, Stephen said, "He'd like the Roasted Garlic Chicken with Fettuccine." No one had ever ordered for me that way, but when he did, it confirmed in my mind (and for our waiter) that yes, we were a couple out on a dinner date. And in that moment, I felt more human and truly alive than I had at anytime ever before in my life. It was a moment I've never forgotten... a moment of true happiness and joy recorded in the annals of my mind to be remembered forever.

Later that evening, after enjoying our meals and an incredible conversation, as the waiter brought the check, I asked if he could package the rest of my entree as it had been a really large portion. He said, "Of course, Sir" as he took my plate away while Stephen looked over the check and placed a credit card in the folio. The waiter brought back a small bag with handles which inside held a black foam dish with the rest of my fettuccine. Stephen and I talked and laughed and enjoyed each other's company for a good while longer before we finally decided it was time to go. As we left the restaurant, I asked where he'd parked, and he said, "Just around the corner..." I offered to drive him to his car since I was parked right across the street. He agreed and got in, and I drove him around the building to where he'd parked his car.

We sat there in my car talking for a few minutes more, neither of us wanting to part from the other. In that first evening together, it was as if we'd been old friends reunited after some long separation. But reluctantly, I finally decided it was time to go as I told him how much I'd enjoyed our time together and how I hoped we'd do it again soon. He promised we would as he gently brushed the back of my hand which was resting on the seat between us. "I'll call you," he said as he opened the door and then reached back in for the golden candy box on the dashboard. I'd given him my gift before I pulled away from my parking space across from the restaurant, and the warm smile on his face when I placed it in his hands brought joy to my heart. He said thank you again as he closed the door, and I watched him get into his own car and drive away. I didn't fully realize it then, but as he left that night, along with the golden box, he took with him a piece of my heart that I never got back. But I was happier than I could remember ever being before as I drove myself home while replaying in my mind's eye all the moments of what I still remember to be one of the most wonderful nights of my life.

When I got home, I took the foam dish with the remnants of my meal from the bag and put it into the refrigerator. The next day at work, I enjoyed the fettuccine for lunch, but as I went to throw-away the foam dish, I stopped myself. Instead I carefully washed it and brought it back home that evening and I put it away at the top of the cupboard where it remains to this day. Even then, I realized it would become a precious memento of the day of our meeting. I'll looked at it again tonight, as I have every year now for twenty years, and I'll remember the joy I felt as I went to bed thinking of him late that autumn night... It was Wednesday, September 27th 2006 and nothing was ever the same afterwards.


I am always remembering...

And my greatest fear is that I may not live long enough to forget.

"Fear Eats the Soul"

"A Happy Sad Story..."

George stopped. Two men stood close, holding each other in plain view. No fear. No shame. The sight warmed him, and it stung. He had spent years hiding, never daring to show what he felt. His whole life he kept that part of himself locked away. Watching them now, he felt proud of them. He also felt the weight of everything he never let himself have.

Story and illustration by Ego Rodriguez

"The Imitation Of Life..."

I remember seeing this film for the first time and I recall how profoundly it affected me for days... I wasn't ready for the tragic ending.

"I Am Always Remembering..."

Another Journey of Life

An Allegory

Preface: This is an adaptation of Charles Dickens'  "The Child's Story" and is based upon that original work published as: “The Journey of Life” which was included in The New McGuffey Fourth Reader by William H. McGuffey, Compiler.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a traveler, and he set out upon a journey. It was a magic journey, and was to seem very long when he began it, and very short when he got halfway through.

He traveled along a rather dark path for some time, without meeting anything or anyone, until at last he came to a beautiful child. So he said to the little boy child, "What do you do here?" And the boy said, "I am always playing. Come and play with me."

So he played with the child the whole day long, and they were very happy. The sky was so blue, the sun was so bright, the water was so sparkling, the leaves were so green, the flowers were so lovely, and they heard so many singing birds, and saw so many butterflies, that everything was beautiful. This was in fine weather.

When it rained, the boy and the traveler loved to watch the falling drops and smell the fresh scents. When the wind blew, it was delightful to listen to, and imagine what it said, as it came rushing from its home, whistling and howling, and driving the clouds across the sky, bending the trees, rumbling in the chimneys, shaking the house and making the waves in the sea roar in fury.

But when it snowed, that was the best of all; for they liked nothing better than to look up at the white flakes falling fast and thick, covering everything with a soft fluffy blanket. They loved to watch and see how smooth and deep the drift was, and to listen to the hush upon the paths and roads.

But one day suddenly the traveler lost the child. He called to the little boy over and over again, but got no answer. So he went on for a little while without meeting anything or anyone, until at last he came to a handsome older boy. He said to the boy, "What do you do here?" And the boy said, "I am always learning. Come and learn with me."

So he learned with the boy about the stars and the moon, plants and animals, and the Greeks and Romans,--more than either of them could ever hope to remember; for they soon forgot a great deal of it. But they were not always learning; they played happy games and had many merry days.

They went rowing on the river in summer, and skated on the frozen lake in the winter; they went on long hikes and ran along the paths; they played catch and tag and all kinds of games and follow-my-leader, and more sports than I can think of: nobody could beat them. As to friends, they had beloved and dear friends, and so many of them, that I haven’t the time to reckon them up. They were all young, like the handsome boy, and were never mean or estranged to one another all their lives.

Still, one day, in the midst of all these pleasures, the traveler lost the young boy, as he had lost the child, and, after calling him in vain, went on upon his journey. So he went on for a while without seeing anything or anyone, until at last he came to a young man. He said to the young man, "What do you do here?" And the young man said, "I am always in love. Come and learn of love with me."

But the traveler lost the young man as he had lost the rest of his friends, and, after calling to him to come back, which he never did, went on upon his journey. At last he came to a middle-aged gentleman. So he said to him, "What are you doing here?" And his answer was, "I am always busy. Come and be busy with me."

The traveler began to be very busy with the gentleman, and they went on through the woods together. The whole journey was through a wood, only it had been open and green at first, like a forest in spring, and now began to be thick and dark, like a forest in summer; some of the little trees that had come out earliest were even turning brown in the shade of the bigger trees.

The gentleman was not alone, but had a handsome man of about the same age with him, who was his companion; and along the way, there were children who were with them too. They all went on as a family through the forest, cutting down the trees, and making a path among the branches, and carrying burdens and working hard.

Sometimes they came to a long green avenue that opened into deeper woods. Then they would hear a very distant little voice crying, "Fathers, I am another child! Wait for me!" And soon they would see a very little figure, growing larger as it came along, running to join them. When it came up, the man and his companion and their children all crowded round it, and hugged and welcomed it; and then they all went on together.

Sometimes they came to several avenues at once; and then they all stood still, and one of the children said, "Fathers, I’m going to sea, I want to be a sailor;" and another said, "Fathers, I’m going to college;" and another, "Fathers, I’m going to seek my fortune where I can;" and another said, "Fathers, I’m going to heaven now."

So, with many sad tears at parting, they went, by themselves, down those avenues, each child upon its way; and the child who went to heaven rose into the golden air and vanished. Whenever these partings happened, the traveler looked at the gentleman and his companion, and saw them glance up at the sky above the trees, where the day was beginning to decline, and the sunset to come on. He saw, too, that their hair was turning gray. But they could never rest long, for they had to continue on their journey and it was necessary for them to always be busy.

At last, there had been so many partings that there were no children left, and only the traveler, the gentleman, and his companion went upon their way together. And now the forest was yellow; and then brown; and the leaves, even of the tallest trees, began to fall.

They came to an avenue that was darker than the rest, and they were pressing forward on their journey without looking down it, when the companion stopped.

"My husband," said the companion, "I’m called."

Together they listened, and they heard a voice a long way down the avenue say, "Father, father!" calling out to the companion.

It was the voice of the child who had said, "I’m going to heaven now!" and the gentleman cried, saying "I pray not yet. The sunset is very near. I pray not yet."

But the voice called out to the companion "Father, father!" without minding him, though his hair was now quite white, and tears were on his face.

Then the man’s companion, who was already drawn into the shade of the dark avenue, and moving away with his arms still around his neck, kissed him and said, "My dearest, I’m summoned, and I must go!" And he was gone. The traveler and gentleman were left alone together.

And they went on and on, until they came very near to the edge of the forest; so near, that they could see the setting sun shining red before them through the trees.

Yet once more, while he found his way through the branches, the traveler lost his friend. He called and called, but there was no reply, and when he passed out of the woods and saw the peaceful sun going down upon a wide purple prospect, he came to an old man sitting upon a fallen tree. He said to the old man, "What do you do here?" And the old man said, with a calm smile, "I’m always remembering. Come and remember with me."

So the traveler sat down by the side of the old man, face to face with the serene sunset; and all his friends came softly back and stood around him. The beautiful child, the handsome boy, the young man, the father, the companion, and children every one of them was there, and he had lost nothing. He loved them all, and was kind and forbearing with them all, and they all honored and loved him.

Dedicated to He who was to be the companion

Adaptation by Christopher Flournoy, Copyright 2006

"The Truth Is Dreams Do Come True..."

"We're Living In The Age Of The Machines..."

"The Lover's Escape"

The morning sun barely pierced the heavy mists rising from the Tiber, but the villa of Marcus Annius Verus was already loud with labor. In the cramped, windowless ergastulum—the slaves' sleeping quarters—Marcus woke to the bitter scent of vinegar-water, used to scrub the limestone walls. He smoothed down his coarse wool tunica, his bones aching from yesterday’s labor carrying heavy amphorae of wine up from the cellars. Across the narrow aisle, Julian was already standing. Julian was the villa’s anagnostes, a literate Greek slave tasked with reading poetry and philosophy to their master during the evenings. His hands were uncalloused, but his back bore the subtle, permanent stiffness of a man who constantly negotiated his survival through perfect posture and absolute silence. As Julian passed Marcus to gather the oil lamps for cleaning, his fingers brushed against Marcus's wrist. The brief contact—warm, deliberate, and hidden from the overseer’s sharp gaze—was their only morning greeting.

By the third hour of the day, the villa bustled with the morning salutatio. Wealthy clients crowded the atrium, seeking the master's political favor. Marcus moved quietly through the crowd, carrying a bronze basin of warm water and towels so the guests could wash their hands before entering. From his position near the door, Marcus watched Julian. Julian stood beside the master's couch, holding a scroll of Cicero’s letters. When the master signaled, Julian read with a voice like honeyed wine, smooth and perfectly modulated. To the guests, Julian was merely a luxury asset, an expensive talking instrument. But Marcus knew the depth behind those expressive eyes. He knew that Julian memorized the geography texts in the library not for the master’s amusement, but to trace a path south toward the port of Puteoli, where ships sailed for Alexandria.

True privacy did not exist for a Roman house slave; even their thoughts felt monitored. Yet, during the late afternoon siesta, while the family rested and the fierce Italian heat slowed the city to a crawl, they found a fragile sanctuary. Meeting in the peristylium under the pretense of pruning the acanthus bushes, they stepped into the shadow of a grand marble column. "The master spoke today of freeing his account-keeper upon his death," Julian whispered, his eyes scanning the colonnade for the overseer. "A manumissio by testament. But that could be decades, Marcus. 

"Marcus looked down at his own rough palms, then reached out to cup Julian's face, shielded from the main courtyard by a thick trellis of ivy. "We cannot risk waiting for a dead man's mercy. A freedman is still tied to his patron. I want the open sea, Julian. I want to look at you without looking over my shoulder. "Julian leaned into the touch, a rare moment of vulnerability cracking his carefully practiced composure. In the eyes of Roman law, they were voiced tools. They could not legally marry, nor could they own property without their master's permission. Their love was a double treason: an unauthorized humanity and a secret bond formed outside their master's ownership.

A sudden shout from the kitchens shattered the quiet, and they instantly stepped apart. Marcus picked up his iron shears, and Julian smoothly adjusted the folds of his tunic, his face reverting to a mask of polite indifference. They walked back into the roaring routine of the Roman evening, their hearts tethered to a shared, dangerous dream. Every coin they managed to hide in a loose brick in the stables—their tiny, forbidden peculium—was a step closer to buying passage on a grain freighter, where they could finally live as men, rather than property.

The night they fled, the sky was a bruised purple, heavy with summer rain that washed away their tracks but made the stones of the Via Appia slick as ice. Marcus and Julian had slipped past the sleeping janitor at the villa’s side gate, carrying nothing but a small leather pouch containing their forbidden savings and a single iron dagger stolen from the kitchen. The Roman road was a marvel of engineering, built with deep layers of gravel and paved with massive, interlocking blocks of dark basalt. It was designed for the lightning-fast transit of legions and imperial couriers—which made it the most perilous place in Italy for a runaway slave. Every mile marker they passed in the dark was a monument to their danger. The roads were tightly patrolled and there were regular checkpoints—and professional slave-catchers, the fugitivarii. These bounty hunters were notorious for their brutality, using tracking dogs and networks of informants at roadside inns to trap their prey. "If we are taken," Julian whispered, his breath ragged as they walked along the unpaved dirt shoulder to muffle their footsteps, "the master will brand us as runaways across the forehead. "Marcus gripped Julian’s hand, his fingers tight. "We won't be taken. We strike for the marshes before dawn. 

Near the fifth hour of the night, the road dipped into a low valley. Ahead, the flickering torchlight of a statio (checkpoint) illuminated the paved highway. Two Roman soldiers stood under a wooden awning, checking the travel passes of a late-night merchant. To go forward on the road meant certain capture. To go back meant returning to the whip. Marcus tugged Julian down into the steep drainage ditch lining the road. They crept through the thick, choking mud, the sharp reeds cutting into their bare legs. The stench of stagnant water filled Marcus's nose, but he kept his eyes locked on Julian’s pale tunic ahead of him. Suddenly, a loose stone slipped under Julian’s foot. The sharp clack echoed in the damp night air. At the checkpoint, a soldier paused, lifting a torch high over the road. "Who goes there?" he shouted, his iron caligae boots crunching onto the gravel shoulder.

Marcus lunged forward, pulling Julian flat against the muddy bank beneath a dense thicket of wild fig bushes. They held their breath, pressed body to body, the beating of their hearts so loud it felt like a drumbeat. Marcus’s hand closed around the hidden dagger. If discovered, he would fight, not for a chance to win against armored soldiers, but to ensure neither of them was taken back alive. The soldier’s torch cast long, dancing shadows across the ditch. The light brushed over the leaves just inches from Julian’s face. Julian closed his eyes, his lips moving in a silent prayer to gods that had long abandoned them. A sudden rustle broke the tension—a wild boar, startled by the light, crashed through the underbrush on the opposite side of the road. The soldier laughed, cursing the beast under his breath, and turned back toward the warmth of the station fire. 

They waited until the soldier's laughter faded before dragging themselves out of the mire. They could not stay on the Via Appia. Leaving the speed of the highway behind, they turned east into the broken, trackless hills, choosing the jagged safety of the wilderness over the straight path of their masters. Hand in hand, covered in Roman earth, they pressed on toward the sea.

Image and writing created with the aid of AI

"The Imitation Of Life..."

"A Sad Story In Six Words..."

They kept their love a secret...

"A Sad Story In Six Words..."

"Another morning, another day, still alone..."

"The Believer's Truth..."

Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, "Sit here while I go over there and pray." He took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be grieved and agitated. Then he said to them, "I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here and stay awake with me." And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed, "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want." Then he came to the disciples and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter, "So, could you not stay awake with me one hour? Stay awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." Again, he went away for the second time and prayed, "My Heavenly Mother, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done." Again, he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy. So, leaving them again, he went away and prayed for the third time, saying the same words. Then he came to the disciples and said to them, "Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? See, the hour is at hand, and the Human One is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going. See, my betrayer is at hand."

While he was still speaking, Judas, one of the twelve, arrived; with him was a large crowd with swords and clubs, from the chief priests and the elders of the people. Now the betrayer had given them a sign, saying, "The one I will kiss is the man; arrest him." At once he came up to Jesus and said, "Greetings, Rabbi!" and kissed him. Jesus said to him, "Friend, do what you are here to do." Then they came and laid hands on Jesus and arrested him. Suddenly, one of those with Jesus put his hand on his sword, drew it, and struck the slave of the high priest, cutting off his ear. Then Jesus said to him, "Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword. Do you think that I cannot appeal to God who would at once send me more than twelve legions of angels? But how then would the scriptures be fulfilled, which say it must happen in this way?" At that hour Jesus said to the crowds, "Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest me as though I were a bandit? Day after day I sat in the temple teaching, and you did not arrest me. But all this has taken place, so that the scriptures of the prophets may be fulfilled." Then all the disciples deserted him and fled.

Those who had arrested Jesus took him to Caiaphas the high priest, in whose house the scribes and the elders had gathered. But Peter was following him at a distance, as far as the courtyard of the high priest; and going inside, he sat with the guards to see how this would end. Now the chief priests and the whole council were looking for false testimony against Jesus so that they might put him to death, but they found none, though many false witnesses came forward. At last, two came forward and said, "This fellow said, 'I am able to destroy the temple of God and to build it in three days.'" The high priest stood up and said, "Have you no answer? What is it that they testify against you?" But Jesus was silent. Then the high priest said to him, "I put you under oath before the living God, tell us if you are the Messiah, the Son of God." Jesus said to him, "You have said so. But I tell you, from now on you will see the Human One seated at the right hand of Power and coming on the clouds of heaven."

Then the high priest tore his clothes and said, "He has blasphemed! Why do we still need witnesses? You have now heard his blasphemy. What is your verdict?" They answered, "He deserves death." Then they spat in his face and struck him; and some slapped him, saying, "Prophesy to us, you Messiah! Who is it that struck you?"

Now Peter was sitting outside in the courtyard. A servant-girl came to him and said, "You also were with Jesus the Galilean." But he denied it before all of them, saying, "I do not know what you are talking about." When he went out to the porch, another servant-girl saw him, and she said to the bystanders, "This man was with Jesus of Nazareth." Again, he denied it with an oath, "I do not know the man." After a little while the bystanders came up and said to Peter, "Certainly you are also one of them, for your accent betrays you." Then he began to curse, and he swore an oath, "I do not know the man!" At that moment the cock crowed. Then Peter remembered what Jesus had said: "Before the cock crows, you will deny me three times." And he went out and wept bitterly.

When morning came, all the chief priests and the elders of the people conferred together against Jesus in order to bring about his death. They bound him, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate the governor.

When Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. He said, "I have sinned by betraying innocent blood." But they said, "What is that to us? See to it yourself." Throwing down the pieces of silver in the temple, he departed; and he went and hanged himself. But the chief priests, taking the pieces of silver, said, "It is not lawful to put them into the treasury, since they are blood money." After conferring together, they used them to buy the potter's field as a place to bury foreigners. For this reason, that field has been called the "Field of Blood" to this day. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah: "And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of the one on whom a price had been set, on whom some of the people of Israel had set a price, and they gave them for the potter's field, as the Lord commanded me."

Now Jesus stood before the governor; and the governor asked him, "Are you the King of the Jews?" Jesus said, "You say so." But when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he did not answer. Then Pilate said to him, "Do you not hear how many accusations they make against you?" But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed.

Now at the festival the governor was accustomed to release a prisoner for the crowd, anyone whom they wanted. At that time, they had a notorious prisoner, called Jesus Barabbas. So, after they had gathered, Pilate said to them, "Whom do you want me to release for you, Barabbas or Jesus who is called the Messiah?" For he realized that it was out of jealousy that they had handed him over. While he was sitting on the judgement seat, his wife sent word to him, "Have nothing to do with that innocent man, for today I have suffered a great deal because of a dream about him." Now the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus killed. The governor again said to them, "Which of the two do you want me to release for you?" And they said, "Barabbas." Pilate said to them, "Then what should I do with Jesus who is called the Messiah?" All of them said, "Let him be crucified!" Then he asked, "Why, what evil has he done?" But they shouted all the more, "Let him be crucified!"

So, when Pilate saw that he could do nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took some water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, "I am innocent of this man”s blood; see to it yourselves." Then the people as a whole answered, "His blood be on us and on our children!" So, he released Barabbas for them; and after flogging Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified.

Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor's headquarters, and they gathered the whole cohort around him. They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on his head. They put a reed in his right hand and knelt before him and mocked him, saying, "Hail, King of the Jews!" They spat on him and took the reed and struck him on the head. After mocking him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him.

As they went out, they came upon a man from Cyrene named Simon; they compelled this man to carry his cross. And when they came to a place called Golgotha (which means "Place of a Skull"), they offered him wine to drink, mixed with gall; but when he tasted it, he would not drink it. And when they had crucified him, they divided his clothes among themselves by casting lots; then they sat down there and kept watch over him. Over his head they put the charge against him, which read, "This is Jesus, the King of the Jews."

Then two bandits were crucified with him, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads and saying, "You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross." In the same way the chief priests also, along with the scribes and elders, were mocking him, saying, "He saved others; he cannot save himself. He is the King of Israel; let him come down from the cross now, and we will believe in him. He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he wants to; for he said, 'I am God”s Son.'" The bandits who were crucified with him also taunted him in the same way.

From noon on, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And about three o'clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, "Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?" that is, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, "This man is calling for Elijah." At once one of them ran and got a sponge, filled it with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink. But the others said, "Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save him." Then Jesus cried again with a loud voice and breathed his last. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, and the rocks were split. The tombs also were opened, and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised. After his resurrection they came out of the tombs and entered the holy city and appeared to many. Now when the centurion and those with him, who were keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were terrified and said, "Truly this man was God”s Son!"

H/T: Rev. Dr. Michael Piazza

"A True Love Story..."

"The Truth Is True Love Lasts..."

"The Truth Is True Love Lasts..."

"A True Love Story..."

"The Truth Is True Love Lasts..."

"A Sad Story In Six Words..."

Why do I always wake alone.

"We're Living In The Age Of The Machines..."

AI Generated

"A True Love Story..."

"A True Love Story..."

How we met...

"This Is A Love Story..."

We weren’t allowed to love back then. I met David in 1985 at a college party in Ohio. We were 20, both from strict Catholic families. Three months of stolen kisses, mixtapes, dreams of New York. Then my dad found our letters. “You’re moving to California. Tonight.” David’s family shipped him to Texas. No goodbyes. I married a woman at 23, had three kids, taught high school. But his Polaroid stayed in my wallet 40 years. Last year, my grandson posted it on TikTok: “Help find my grandpa’s first love.” 5 million views later — a match. David, never married, flew in. At the airport gate, 70-year-old arms collided. “You’re still beautiful,” he whispered through tears. Families stole 40 years. Love found us anyway. 

Did you notice the title I gave this...? If you've been visiting here for a while you probably noticed that it wasn't titled "This Is A True Love Story" because it's not... It's skillfully crafted to pull at the heartstrings but it's not real, or at least not as presented here. And this is why I despise social media, because people are so easily fooled by it, they think if I can see it with my own eyes, it must be true.

If like me, you take a closer look at this story and the images, all the hallmarks of fiction are staring back at you. First clue: 20 year old's in 1985 would 60 year old's in 2025, not 70.  Second clue: The AI images are incredibly good, they look real. But AI does what you tell it to do, so it did make them look 70, not 60. The AI also did what AI does, it makes mistakes: Were you ever at a college party from the 1970s on where the cups were white.? By 1985 the red Solo party cup was ubiquitous and obligatory at college parties. Another tell in the images are their pants, how many of us are the same size at 60 or 70 that we were at 20? And in the 80's designer jeans were all the rage, anybody remember Jordache jeans? The model of jeans they're wearing in both images are the same... "David's" are darker in the reunion image, but they're clearly the same model and size. And don't get me started on the fragile chemistry of Polaroids and what would happen to one in your wallet for 40 years.

So why did I post this fakery, because at first glance, it did what the attention seeker in Eastern Europe intended it to do, it made me feel good,, it made me want to visit their site hoping for more stories like this. I felt the vicarious happiness that such a story evokes. And then even after I realized it wasn't literally a true story, as I thought about it, it occurred to me that somewhere out there, against all the odds, perhaps someone has lived a similar story and if so, their story deserves to be told even if this isn't really it. Go ahead and admit it, this story made you happy too, even if I did have to burst the bubble of false joy and faked reality this story brought to life. So this is for those who like me dream of an unlikely reunion with a first love whom they've never stopped loving... For those who like me believe that love, even if it's denied at it's birth is nevertheless forever true. This story is for the dreamers.

"Fear Eats the Soul"