by Chuck Kinder
Look at this. All these pages talking about myself. Terrible. Want to talk about you, where you are, your letter, our energy. Just reread your letter yet again and am all smiles. Feel very bad about Alice Ann. Know what both of you are going through, all the real pain. Feel guilty that I can be so happy in spite of that. But I am. Deliriously happy. Wildly happy. Everything but completely happy. But with faith. But more questions keep creeping out of the forefront of my head – like dear old Minerva, armed in full dyke array, but a lady nonetheless. So, you are getting your life in order. How, before I knew you, was it in disorder?? What really do you wish to change? I mean fundamentally. Really want to talk to you about all of this – so much I feel I should understand. Maybe these are only words, but I see you in a way of life, or, rather, I see in you a way of life, not a change of life. I’m confused, as usual, and worrying about big things in little ways, and still feeling incredibly merry and loving you so much. Should be all right if I can get this foolish grin off my face. I’ve been grinning like mad for weeks. Even people in the office have noticed. And I have not said anything. That’s why I spend so much time writing to you. I want to stand on top of my roof and just shout to the whole town, “Hey, I’m in love. What do you think of that?”
On the medium serious side, won’t make any plans about your coming up here until you think you really can do it. But I’ve gone off the pill this month because of typical side effects like weight gain, water retention and all of that. Seems weird writing about things like that. Will resume, anyway, before you get here so that we don’t have to consider any hassles of that nature. Went back to see my doctor last Thursday. He’s keeping me on some stomach relaxer for another three weeks and advised me to remain off the booze. (Naturally I didn’t tell him that I had already violated that promise. With a good bit more enthusiasm after reading that drinking and smoking do not age your skin!!! ) At that time I asked him about my new approaches to birth contol and explained that I had problems with the I.U.D. and with pills. He smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and said he was just glad he was not a gynecologist. I agreed with him. He patted my head, and therefore I’ve come up with the above approach, subject to your approval, of course. Don’t know why, exactly, but writing all of this embarrasses me. Hope I haven’t done the same with you. Shades of 19th century modesty, I guess, in spite of my ‘liberated’ assertions.
Hey, love, this letter is too long. You are going to fall asleep in the middle. Wish you could fall asleep my arms. Would like to hold your head again. Love you.
Lindsey
Dearest L –
Just finished your long warm wonderful letter. Jesus. So good to hear from you. And your photo! My, my. All the other good things, and she’s lovely too. You are, you know. And sexy, and bright, and simpatico, and everything else. Love you, miss you. Thinking of you so strongly right now you must be getting vibes.
Damn it, but I miss you! Has been off and on again madness now for weeks. Barely able to get anything done. Had an unfortunate, bad evening on Friday. Saturday I asked Alice Ann to come to my apartment and try to get caught up on her schoolwork, paper correcting, her own Stanford class, etc. Good enough day Sat. & even Sunday there. I did a lot of reading, & we also did a lot of talking. Sunday night we had some drinks and got into a horrible verbal scene. Monday things were pretty serene, lots more talking, no real hostility. Shit hit the fan again Monday night. She missed school again on Tuesday. I told her on Tuesday that I would not have any contact with you for three months, until after the first of the year. At that time, if I want it, we’ll have a peaceful-amicable separation or divorce. Thing is, though, it is a promise I cannot and do not intend to keep, may the gods forgive me. I simply cannot. I’m too far gone in love with you, too far embarked on a different course. I hope I’m not sounding or acting in too dishonorable a fashion. But I know what I want and what will eventually be best for everyone involved down here. Does this sound too selfish or deceptive or whatever? God, I hope not. But things have to settle down here, and right now, for health’s sake, careers’ sake, everything. I would have about been ready to say anything, except that I would breakup with you entirely – which was not asked! I’ll keep my apartment; of course, but will begin to pull together on some of the problems and such in Menlo Park. Maybe this will get us through the holiday and such and into a new year, and that’s it. All of this in strictest confidence of course, little fish – please don’t mention a word to Buffalo Bill or Kathy or anyone! I don’t want any of us to look villainous or victimized. Don’t know why I’m telling you all this & sure as hell don’t want you to feel uptight, bummed out, or disappointed in any way in me. But I guess I do know why and that is because I love you so much and want to keep things straight between us, and always let you know what’s happening and what’s on my mind riht now. God, it would all be so simple if we were all bastards, ego-maniacs, and able to walk into and out of people’s lives with impunity or scarcely a backward glance, ala Norman Mailer, since you mentioned going to see him talk when he was in Missoula. He is a good example, kids and wives scattered all over the landscape. Speaking of Mailer, saw in the paper this morning that he spoke to a crowd of 2000 at Berkeley yesterday (I got there late and just slipped in and stood in the back.) It turned into a free-for-all. He was heckled by women libs, Gay libs and about a dozen other groups he has somehow offended over the years. He was in a “fuck you” shouting match on the stage with many of the audience. Someone threw a burning brassier on the podium, a number of people were arrested. Wonderful time was had by all parties. By the way, paper said he was paid $2500 for the lecture! Did they actually come up with that kind of money n Montana? Or close to it? And, by the bye, has Buffalo Bill done anything about getting me a reading up there? Wonder what kind of money he could get me? See if you can worm some info along these lines out of him. Be sure to catch him when he’s reasonably sober.
Lindsey, little fish, let me say you’re never really out of my mind. I love you, miss you desperately, can’t wait to see you. But of course I’m horribly broke down here, old car’s transmission is failing fast, the boy’s dog is pregnant again, etc. etc. Anyway, put pressure on Bill. I’ll ty to wait until this weekend to call you. Feel a little guilty about that, continuing to lay those collect calls on you. Must have been about a $70 call by itself last Weds. night. You’re right, we’ve got to get together soon just to save money. One of these days we’ll pool our meager resources, huh?
I love you
R.
Dearest R –
Late home from full day at work, 7:30 no less, but had one last house to show, which I am certain was a waste of time. And waiting for me was your letter, about, in fact the longest missive and the most direct I have ever had from you. We must have been thinking the same things at the same time – just as I tried, rather timidly I admit, to say I felt you were holding things back, maybe until you had time to deal with them yourself, maybe to avoid disturbing me, you suddenly come through. And I do appreciate that so much. I do promise to say nothing about us to anyone up here, certainly not Bill or Kathy. And don’t feel you are wrong in your decision to keep in touch. I guess because I made that decision too, but that’s not the reason I agree with you. No, it really comes down to the belief that one person cannot monitor another’s behavior, nor regulate it – no matter how that person feels about the other. And further, to request that person to change his actions cannot ever be misconstrued to mean his thinking, his feelings will change too.
But you are right. We can never walk away from things, especially lives we have helped create. Think you may also be right to agree to her request, if only verbally. How well I know what she must be feeling – both wising to be the rational liberal, yet feeling torn up inside. Her greatest war right now is with herself – how she wants to feel, how she really feels. Anything to mitigate that – or bring focus to the real concerns – and I still believe that at the center of the matter I have no position. I am peripheral to that – is ri
ght. We would never have met as we did, loved as we do, had all things been right with your relationship with Alice Ann. How’s that for reverse-positive Calvinism? I know it’s redundant to caution you, after all this, but be ever so careful to cover our communication. And don’t worry about the collect calls – they are absolutely necessary. First, as a matter of discretion, the fewer traces of me down there, the better. Second, I would go positively mad if I couldn’t hear from you. It’s so important to me. And the closest we can possibly be for what seems like such a long time.
Anyway, sitting here on my green couch, loving you so much and it seems to carry over to everything, even the jerks at work. When you love, I guess you love everything – it’s joyous, really – there’s so much inside and it doesn’t seem to exhaust itself. Even feeling sad is just another way of being able to feel. Such a long way from the dead person I was a while back. So much I owe to you. Tenderness for you. My hand would find yours, smooth our forehead a bit. And I did cry when I read your letter. Because I am so happy you brought me into myself, into acceptance of self, showed me that people can love each other in real ways – in turn, I’m afraid I have helped agitate the most tormented time you have ever known. What doubts, pangs of conscience I have, all stem from that, my love. You have made me happy. I have helped make you unhappy. What I want more than anything else in this world is the assurance that you are living the life you desire. There is little now I feel necessary for myself. I’m happier than I can ever remember being. Only being with you could make me happier. Knowing that I love you and that you love me – just overwhelming joy. I do believe in you and the goodness of our love. You are really a beautiful man, Ralph. Hate to see you pulled in conflicting ways, yet know you wouldn’t be where you are were it not for those very things that I cherish in you.
******************************************
Sweetheart –
On to another page, and a few lines before the mailman comes to the office. No phone all from you over the weekend. Afraid to imagine that you are in the midst of another bad time. Still helpless to help. Can only think of you and hope that you know that. Want not to be a part of your talks with Alice An, if that’s possible. As I have said, believe that only confuses the real talk you and she must have for the next months, even a day at a time. I know you love her, too – maybe quite differently from the way you feel about me, that’s not important. What does count is that you find ways to understand what that love means for both of you. Perhaps you know that now, perhaps not. But those things, or that issue, must be dealt with for the sake of you, especially, the also for Alice Ann, finally for me. I’m here when you need me; I’ll wait until you tell me other.
The last installment of this letter was Friday night. It’s now Monday. The quiet weekend I had planned did not remain quiet for long. Worked at the Flame during the day, Saturday, homecoming weekend. Ran into a lot of people I hadn’t seen for years. Got off work and went to a party on the other side of town. Was pleased because these were all people who were not connected with the group I have been running around with all summer and fall. Rather amusing experience, up to a point. These were all the young Missoula wealthies, and their lives are every bit as tattered as everyone else’s. Got into some fun exchanges and frivolous arguments about keeping Montana “pure,” helping the handicapped and abortion reform, etc. Party all moved en masse to a supper club for more food and wine (don’t know who paid for my dinner, but no one let me pay … distinct advantages to being a lady at times), then on to the Elks for more drinks then on to a steam bath and finally home. I was the only single person in the entire group which made it rather amusing, but I felt comfortable about it.
Got a call from Kathy the next morning. Buffalo Bill had managed to lose her car the night before, so we went looking for it. Found it in an alley near the East Gate and the new Edgewater Inn. Bill had apparently traversed back and forth between the two bars Saturday night, getting kicked out of one, then the other. Kathy got a call from the East Gate saying they were going to call the cops if she didn’t get him out of there (we can’t imagine what he was doing there .. no one gets kicked out of the East Gate). Anyway, she managed to get ahold of Roger G. and the two of them rescued Bill and they all went drinking downtown. At that point the car was decidedly missing.
After looking for the car, Kathy and I decided to have a quiet drink at Ron’s and then split. Crazy scene ensued. Ran into two guys there whom we both know. Sat and talked with them at the bar for a while. The one guy had had the party at his house the night before and is an old high school friend. Both guys are married, so there was nothing going on, but then began a series of mistakes. We moved to a table so we could all talk. Suddenly John’s wife (John is my high school friend) stormed in and slammed a tennis racket and bag in the middle of our table and then swept out again. Kathy and I felt pretty bad about this as we were certainly not in the midst of any tete a tete or anything like that. So we sat around trying to decide how John could make amends, still half laughing at the absurdity. Then in stomps our Buffalo Bill. A double-hitter. By this time I was moderately drunk and everything was looking incredibly silly. We all sat around for a while longer while Bill huffed more or less amiably. Then John and I split to grab some food and hopefully sober up. Decided the situation could get out of hand as it often does around Bull and didn’t want to be a part of it. Bill and Kathy moved to another bar and continued to drink for a while longer. Then they went home and Bill really laid into Kathy. He decided the two of us had moteled it with the guys in the afternoon, and had rendezvoused later at the bar. He stormed about me too, threated to tell you, and in general was one angry man. Can’t say that I blame him in some ways. I guess married women really don’t go into bars and sit down with married men and drink afternoons away. But at the same time it was so completely innocent and it is difficult for me to understand why men and women can’t be friends and talk to each other when they run into each other. Kathy came into the office earlier this morning to relay all this and we laughed again, but decided we just weren’t too cool in spite of our innocence. I guess I will never understand all these values.
Two nights of drinking is quite enough, for me anyway, so now I move into the sober week. Still a bit hung over as you may surmise from my scattered sentences. But thinking of you constantly. Have relayed all the events of the weekend because perhaps you may feel the same way Bill does. If you do disapprove of my going to parties, etc., I will not mind curbing all of that in the least. It simply never occurred to me that I had done something objectionable. Of course, Bill feels that when men and women are together they just have to be fucking. But aside from all of that, you might simply prefer to know that I am at home. And if you feel that way, please tell me. I love you and want my life here to the very least of your worries. Won’t promise to quit drinking entirely, but do intend to live a pretty straight life here and have not dated at all, don’t desire to or intend to.
Almost time for the mail. Love you so very much. Rest easy, loved one.
L.
Dearest Ralph –
Sitting at my typewriter cat in lap coffee and phone within easy left-hand reach. Just coming up from a supper bout of depression myself. Can’t explain, really, what caused all of it, worry about you and me an us, a major factor. Anything I want to say now sounds so trite. I fell I know what you are going through; without question, I know something of what Alice Ann feels. I sense your depression and it frightens me. From this distance it is so difficult to help you. Bill is right when he urges you to stay off the booze. If you are down, it only increases that. Benn there as I guess you have, too. What has happened to you stirs memories in me that are too painful to talk about. But that damn thing can spiral. And suddenly you’re not I control of your lie, you’re not in control of anything.
Wish I had happy things to write about from here. But it has been gloomy here too. Halcyon days long gone. Think you wrote of them. Days at their worst now. Got to balance out soon.
At any rate, it is a quiet Sunday. The picture on the wall in front of me holds my grandmother among its august ladies, the Deutsche Damen of Denver. It is tilted. Maybe I will adjust it sometime today. If I can remember to do so. And if I can muster the energy. I seem to be dead tired most of the time – so fucking frustrating.
