Do you know Vivian Abe (AH - BAY)?
Do you know Vivian Abe (AH - BAY)? I am trying to find her. I want to say I’m sorry.1971. The Air Force. The Greek Island of Crete. A Greek Taverna called POPS, where everybody knew my name.
I saw her in the door. She was short, a light brown skin with raven hair. She was walking toward me. This is not good for my buzz.
She sits by me and begins to talk. She talked and she talked. This would soon pass. I would not see her again.
When she left, she slid a napkin into my hand. It was a poem that said, “No one I know perceives the love I have inside. Please come! Please come!”
I’m gonna need an apartment. The next year was fantastic. We walked the island beaches of Crete and Rhodes. We flew to Istanbul, Turkey and spent an afternoon at the Blue Mosque. I was loving the life I was living.
A year later, Vivian returned to San Francisco State to pursue a graduate degree in creative writing. She encouraged me to write. I didn’t mean to hurt her pain.
30 days later, I flew TWA through twelve time zones to spend a month with her. I missed Vivian. I loved her. I wanted to be where she was.
I can still see her coming up the escalator to meet me as I get off the plane. Vivian had an apartment on Telegraph Avenue where Oakland yields to Berkeley. Telegraph Avenue was a happening hippie heaven. I loved it.
The night before I was to return to Greece, Vivian used a word that messed me up in a way I could not show.
The nice buzz I had going was being challenged. We are in front of the fire on a bear skin rug listening to Isaac Hayes’ Hot Buttered Soul. She said we have to think about getting married.
I am 20. I live in paradise. Boat loads of women from across the globe arrive daily. I would be there for years.
As I look back, I regret I was not mature enough to tell her the truth. I should have. I did not. I did my best to appear agreeable. Once back to Greece, I would never see her again. That was 41 years ago.
Do you know Vivian Abe? I am trying to find her. I want to tell her I’m sorry.
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