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"Stone Soul Picnic" by  Mark T. Holmes

It was September 1968 and sitting beside me in my dad's

metallic blue 1965 Rambler American sat the love of my

life, Linda. We had spent the day at the Danbury State

Fair and were warming up by holding hands in the front

seat and listening to "Stone Soul Picnic" by The Fifth

Dimension. Coursing through the Rambler's single

dashboard speaker, the song etched itself into my being,

apparently forever, and framed a defining moment of my 

life.

We both wore blue windbreakers, mine plain and Linda's 

decorated with the emblem of the Miry Brook Volunteer 

Fire Department - featuring a turtle wearing a fireman's 

hat and holding a fire hose. Her family were all 

volunteers with the group and lived directly across the 

street from the fire station. She smiled at me with the

sweet enthusiasm of young love and her soft brown hair 

fell perfectly on her jacket. There was an early 

eagerness between us, enveloping our emotions and 

wrapping us into something of a container or chamber

that defined our newly important world. Our faces were 

still a bit red from the chilling rainy weather and brisk

walk from the fairgrounds to the car. She was perfect for me -- her height was

proportionate to mine, as I was passing six feet tall. 

Her shoulder it just right under my arm as it encircled 

her. We were both of the same particular faith. We played

chess on a board embedded in her living room floor in 

front of the fireplace. We played tennis and embraced at 

the net after each point. Her handwritten notes to me

were words directed to my soul. I loved everything about 

her. 

Our hands and face were still warming up from being out 

in the cool weather. Her innocent and open, yielding 

features spoke to me  without words as the radio played 

something about "red-yellow honey, sassafras and 

moonshine."

The natural state of her face was that of a perpetual 

smile, her full lips slightly parted. I leaned to her, 

and she to me, and gracefully, without the awkwardness 

you might expect from our first encounter, our eyes 

closed as our lips met perfectly. We held the kiss for a 

few moments; forever. 

Decades later, upon hearing the rather odd, almost 

haunting words of this Laura Nyro song, whether in a car 

or in a store at the mall, I'm instantly transformed into

a sixteen year old on the brink of being forever in love.

Yes, Laura - "I can surrey and I can picnic".

 
(C) Copyright 2001 Mark T. Holmes

"Stone Soul Picnic" Mark T. Holmes is a consultant and freelance 

writer, originally from Danbury,CT, now living in South Florida.

Over twenty years of reasoning with hurricane seasons, anarchist

immigrants and spectacular winter evenings somewhere between

Margaritaville and Century Village. Mark may be contacted through his 

web site at    www.remarkability.net.                               

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