Monday, June 24, 2013
In the summer of my 36th year, I was performing Casey at an adult fantasy camp hosted by Jerry West and the Los Angeles Lakers in Palm Desert, California. It was July and it was broiling. My son was turning 9 and it was a special birthday for him. I was living the life of my dreams which meant I was living my life—not living a life of quiet desperation. Andrew introduced himself after Casey. He looked so familiar. Where did I know him from? Suddenly, it hit me. I had slept with his mother. Well, I hadn’t actually slept with her. The story went like this. The warden ran a tight ship, but for some reason he let me have some freedom in my cell. This included allowing me to put pictures of Playboy calendar girl centerfolds on my walls. If a friend ever visited my cell, I can still hear them saying. “They know about these pictures?” It seemed to be a big thing to my friends, but it was my own little harem. One of the girls in that harem was Andrew’s mother. It became more personal when I turned 18. One day I decided to ditch school and take the train into New York City. For some reason, I never made it all the way. I got off the train in Queens and found myself in a little theater with Matt Hem and his girlfriends. One of those girlfriends was Stella. Yes, Stella was Andrew’s mom. On that glorious afternoon, I really fell in love with Stella. I could never tell Andrew about us. Andrew told me how much he enjoyed my Casey. The following week he shared his Palm Desert trip with Johnny Carson on national television. Seemed like he brought a film clip where he stole a ball from another player and went in for a score. It seemed like I was that other player. I should have told Andrew about his mother and me.
Posted by Steve Tarde at 3:02 AM