| house of style |
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| "with a little... imagination... anything... and everything... becomes possible" |
| the rose john blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making thier way through grand central station. he looked for the girl who's heart he knew, but who's face he didn't, the girl with the rose. his interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a florida library. taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. the soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. in the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, miss hollis maynell. with time and effort he located her address. she lived in new york city. he wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. the next day, he was shipped overseas for service in world war II. during the next year and one month the two grew to know eachother through the mail. each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. a romance was budding. blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. she felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like. when the day finally came for him to return from europe, they scheduled thier first meeting - 7:00pm at grand central station in new york. "you'll recognize me, " she wrote, "by the red rose i'll be wearing on my lapel." so at 7:00 he was at the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen. i'll let mr. blanchard tell you what happened: "a young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. her lips had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like spring time come alive. i started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. as i moved, a small, provacative smile curved her lips. 'going my way, sailor?' she murmured. almost uncontrollably, i made one step closer to her, and then saw hollis maynell. she was standing almost directly behind the girl. a woman well past 40, she had hair tucked under a worn hat. she was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. the girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. i felt as though i was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own. and there she stood. her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. i did not hesitate. my fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her. this would not be love, but would something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which i had been and must ever be greatful. i squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while i spoke i felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment. 'i'm lieutenant john blanchard, and you must be miss maynell. i am so glad you could meet me; may i take you to dinner?' the woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. 'i don't know what this is about son, ' she answered, 'but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. and she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, i should tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. she said this was some kind of test!' it's not difficult to understand and admire miss maynell's wisdom. the true nature of a heart is seen in it's response to the unattractive. 'tell me whom you love, ' houssaye wrote, 'and i will tell you who you are.' |
| simple vs. real a simple friend has never seen you cry. a real friend has shoulders soggy from your tears. a simple friend doesn't know your parent's first names. a real friend has thier phone numbers in his address book. a simple friend brings a bottle of wine to your party. a real friend comes early to help you cook and stays late to help you clean. a simple friend hates it when you call after he has gone to bed. a real friend asks you why you took so long to call. a simple friend seeks to talk with you about your problems. a real friend seek to help you with your problems. a simple friend wonders about your romantic history. a real friend could blackmail you with it. a simple friend think the friendship is over when you have an arguement. a real friend knows that it's not a friendship until after you've had your first fight. a simple friend expects you to always be there for them. a real friend expects to always be there for you. danny d --taken from an email 11.22.99 |
| i remember that first night, at the club, is where i met you / it was around september, sportin couture leather and jewels / very few have caught my eye but you seemed worthy to pursue / haute attitude, fueled by a gucci suit and shoes / blew me away / so i clear my throat, hang up my coat and approach / grab a stool next to you, light up a smoke and continued / to rap my game, copped a cool attitude but sadly it seems, you was hardly moved / told me to wake up cause i was dreamin / but secretly fiendin for your nicotine, it seems / i would go through withdrawel stages, places i'd thought you'd be / if only you knew how much i'd sacrifice in my life. i would go through anything, just to lay in bed with you every night / thoughts gain flight with romantic insight but while things fly right, yo love seems to be blind / sometime i'd like to settle down with a guy of my type / a simple boi with brown hair and some blonde highlights / or maybe my guy'll have a slightly shy demeanor / drinks coffee by the pot, minus the cream and sugar / acts crazy when we're together, writes me letters when we're apart / but he gots ta have love in his heart, no doubt... -- feb 14, 2000 |