Falling

You fall down

and do it again

you pull yourself up

and do it again

I don’t fool myself

and think I never fall
again and again

Donna

Back in the early 80’s I was living with my girlfriend at the time in Attleboro Ma.  Bernadette (Bernie) would occasionally visit a friend in Brookline Mass who was a cousin of Donna Summer. Donna Summer is from Roxbury Ma and was in town for a concert so she invited us for an after party. So we drove to Brookline which is a very high income type area, but our friend was on welfare and lived in public housing. It was always strange to me that there were 500,000$ dollar homes (which was VERY expensive back then) perched next to what amounted to slum housing. I silently smirked and shook my head at the irony of it actually. It was lost on my girlfriend who was not known to be the sharpest knife in the draw. Also lost to her was the time we got into an argument over the Cambodian boat people that where immigrating into Attleboro at the time. “The gooks that were on welfare” she called them. Yeah I know, she was a butter knife in the draw of life.

Anyway we rolled past the obscene wealth that abruptly stopped with the three towers they crammed the poor folks in and parked the car. In front the building our friend lived in was a limo. Donna Summers limo. There were people all around it gawking into the dark windows and generally talking shit about whomever they thought limo belonged to. We walked pass the crowd and went inside and rode the elevator up. Oh yeah, by the way,  I can’t remember our friends name, Olivia? maybe or something like that. On her floor there was of course Donna Summer beats rumbling through the halls and all sorts of people roaming around like an inside block party. We made our way to Olivia’s? apartment and the crowd was even worse. In front of her apartment were two HUMONGOUS black dudes. They looked at our creamy white skin with “surprise” but were very polite and nice to us. “are you sure this the apartment you’re looking for” one of the guys asked. Yes we’re friends of Olivia?; Bernie and Jim. There were more people outside than inside the apartment so one of the guys disappeared and came right back and let us in. Inside there was a crowd but it wasn’t too crowded. We saw Olivia? and cruised over to say hello. Now, I knew absolutely no one there besides Olivia and her old man (Mr. Olivia?), and me Bernie and Olivia were the only white people within a solid three miles of the place. Now before you question my world view, I have to mention that I grew up with many black people and lived with my best friend Vernon in Roxbury Ma. I attended church with him and his family on Sundays over summer vacation. Church in a black congregation is entirely different than you would expect. But that is an entirely different story for another time. Back to my world view; I know I sound like one of those people who say they “have black friends” implying that they can’t be racist. Well sad to say, a few years before when I used to take the red line to my friends house in “the berry”, it never crossed my mind that I was the only white dude for a few blocks at least. Now it did and it kind of bothers me. Too much TV with the robber, rapist, and drug dealer being the black dude I suppose. Maybe true, It still bugged me though. To the present: I think I saw a black guy at Shaw's a few weeks ago and all of us in the restaurant business know what “Canadian” means. And so it goes.

Back to the past: So i was nervous as whore in church only because really, I didn’t know anybody and I was kind of a shy type back then, I kind of stood around and tried to look cool, suave and debonair. Olivia? Came by and said hello and I asked where Donna Summer was. I had a little crush on her at the time and thought she was wicked hot. Bernie knew I had a crush on Donna so her ears perked right up and she came over to tell me that “maybe Donna can give you a ride home”. Like i said before, butter knife, draw etc. And for that matter, her personality and temperament couldn’t cut a fart in a wind storm either. I really don’t know what I saw in her. Well, except for the whole sex thing I suppose. So Olivia? Made a joke or something and another stupid argument was avoided. She waved to me and Bernie to follow. In her bedroom, there she was. Donna Summer. On the radio oh oh, Donna Summer. And she looked like shit. I know makeup does wonders for people but my bubble was totally busted, popped, deflated and stomped on mercilessly. Donna looked like...everyone else. I need to mention this though before I end this. Donna Summer and Olivia? were cousins and apparently both are on the “lighter” side of black and from I learned later, there is a discrimination among certain black folks in regard to the color of their skin. I don’t get it but, whatever. Olivia’s? mom was white and her dad was black. From what Bernie told me Donna Summer gave Olivia? some money occasionally but treated her less than kindly because of her “whiteness” So when Donna Summer showed Olivia? attention she relished in it no matter how condescending or self serving it was.

Back to Donna Summer at hand. After the makeup scare I somewhat came to my senses. I remember exactly what I said even 25 years later, ”your music is wicked awesome”. That’s right. “Wicked awesome”. Cool and suave went right down the drain, twirling around and screaming LOSER as it went. Thank god “dope” and “fresh” didn’t come to mind. She kind of stared at me for a split second in what I swear was pity and offered me the mirror that was sitting on the bed. On the mirror of course were rails of coke. Bernie eyeballed me, her eyes narrowed and her face tightened into closed fist status. She absolutely hated drugs. She was after all, a nice Irish Catholic girl. Also, she had two teenaged sons (she was 15 years older than I was...yikes!) and felt she needed to set an example for them. Except for being a racist and soaking herself in sea-breezes she was doing a bang up job in my opinion. Once I told her if she loved me she would do a line with me. That’s really the only time I ever saw her honestly laugh. I was serious too. You know, I never claimed that I was honed to a brilliant edge all the time and could still use a pass through a stone once in a while. (Too obscure?) Any way, I said ‘fuck Bernie” I’m doing lines with Donna Summer. So I took the straw and snorted the biggest rail on the mirror. I was, at the time, about the biggest coke whore there was. I looked up and saw the look of complete horror in Donna Summers eyes and I immediately knew what that look was for. I would say I snorted at least a graham of coke. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was closer to an 8 ball. Luckily as i said, at the time I was a coke snorting maniac and didn’t immediately start doing sprints up and down the hallway. Also the coke wasn’t very good at all. They were like “disco hits”. Ahh. Irony was rampant that day. You would think Donna Summer would have good coke. I could get far better stuff on French Hill in Nashua. After a few seconds Donna Summer came out of shock and shot Olivia? the same look Bernie had given me a few minutes earlier. Donna Summer didn’t even look at me again. Olivia? Muttered something, I don’t remember what, and gave us the hustle out of the room. Bernie wouldn’t even look at me and Olivia? left me alone in the living room standing there with the remainder of my dignity waving goodbye. Then the coke paranoia set in and I started to grind my teeth. And that’s when I left. I said nothing; I just headed for the door, past the two huge bodyguards, past the crowd, down the elevator, past the limo and to the car. Of course I didn’t have the keys so I just paced around the car, all sorts of fucked up by then. Twenty minutes later Bernie showed up, said nothing and we got in the car. As we drove off, I ground my teeth and rubbed my hands together. I turned on the radio and yes, no word of a lie, it was Donna Summer. Oh oh...on the radio, oh oh...on the radio. Really.