In My Write Mind
10.22.2004

Signed, In Love

It was bound to happen, as much as I doth protest. For almost 33 years, I’ve laughed in its face. But recently, the laugh track was put on mute, the boxing gloves have been removed, the Cupid-proof vest has been unfastened. To quote the great Martin Payne, “I don’t wanna fight no mo’.”

Yes, folks, after almost four decades of clawing and scratching, hundreds of cups of denial and many rounds of delaying the inevitable…I, William Irvin Dawson, have fallen in love.

It’s true, I’m off the market. And it’s about time everybody knows it.

Let me tell you about my girl.
From the moment I was in her presence, I knew there was something special,
something different about her.
Our first meeting was what some might consider innocent; a brief encounter one hot week in August some years ago. It seemed like much more, though. Let me put it this way: I would put it right up there with a first introduction to butter pecan ice cream or foot massages. Yup, it was THAT good. This fulfilled little lady opened my eyes to a whole new world. During that short stay, I fell in love. And it wasn’t so much what she did that made me fall for her. It was her dominant presence, her raw and natural beauty that got me open like a 24 hour liquor store.

Years passed by with me hearing little things about her, each time my mind flashing back with excitement to that first time we met, with my lips curling up almost on cue just from the mention of her name. I would see her once in a while, like when I’d stop by her Cousin Apollo’s house or visit her aunt Sylvia.

I would see her, but could never be with her. I guess it wasn’t time.

That all changed about a year ago, when I had the opportunity to see my baby once again; both of us staring at one another with a look that said we were ready to take one another on for the foreseeable future. We immediately moved in together and have been inseparable ever since.

Don’t get me wrong; all is not wine and roses. We’ve had the usual ups and downs that go with the “new couple” territory. In fact, soon after we got together, I had to break the news to my love about past relationships I had with her less beautiful sisters, Brook and Queen. Let’s just say she wasn’t too thrilled about that. While she yelled, to her credit she didn’t kick me out; instead, she chose to forgive and forget. That’s my baby! And indeed, as raw and real as we keep it, as much as we may fly off the handle, our conversations are always anchored by respect and love.

I adore everything about my girl--her smell, her aura, her toughness, her style. Even her penchant for being loud and sometimes overbearing is sexy. And she’s a fixture in the community, my girl—in fact, you can say she IS the community; always so outgoing and selfless, often welcoming all types of individuals with open arms. Her willingness to give of herself daily, even when people constantly walk all over her, is the epitome of strength in my eyes.

During the summers, we take long walks together, basking in her rhythms, blues and salsa. Oh, that’s right--my baby’s got some Spanish in her, too. She’s cultural (you can always find a museum or library nearby); open to different religions and political views, welcoming all to express themselves freely (she’s given shelter to everyone from Malcolm X to Bill Clinton). My love is also on top of the fashion trends and always offers discounts to those with tight budgets, even going as low as 99 cents for some products. And forget Carvel; my baby offers the best “shake” this side of the Hudson River. She shows movies that are simply “magical.”

People have written songs and poems in her honor, taken photos of her constantly, lauding her welcoming ways.

And she’s all mine. I can’t see us ever breaking up, not after far too many years of separation. I’m in this for the long haul.

And I promise to bring my “A” game as well, doing whatever it takes to keep her happy. It’s truly the least I could do to repay her for all that she gives me. Maybe our story could wind up in the hands of some Hollywood producer, a manuscript chockfull of love stories and anecdotes, rhymes and reasons about a love that was once unrequited, but is now fulfilled. It would describe our first meeting and our past year of bliss. In fact, it would probably have to be a mini-series, or a “Lord of the Rings”-type trilogy, since no mere 90 minutes could cover this masterpiece.

I’ve bandied about some names of what the production would be called, throwing out titles such as “Thatbutterpecanfootmassagekindalove Love” and “The Truth About Love.” However, now, I think I’ve come up with the perfect title. So with a nod to the wonderful folks over at CBS, tell me what you think:
“Everybody Loves Harlem.”

scribbled by Will at 10/22/2004 09:01:00 AM
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Mind Droppings

I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear. (Joan Didion)



The Write One


Will. Lefty. Since Summer 1971.
Over the next six months, I'll be saying some hellos, some goodbyes. Living, laughing, growing. Don't.miss.a.word.
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