I attended one drum circle in downtown Fort Myers many months ago and loved the mix of ages and types. Old hippies, plump young belly dancers … people dancing, swaying, drumming to rhythmic animal beats that return us to our primal selves.
So when my friend Sherma invited me to go to a drum circle on Fort Myers Beach last night, I was game. Some of our other friends would be there too.
A year ago “while trolling” we accidentally fell in with a group of people from my area of Michigan.
These are great, great people - Good Randy (with me in this photo - jeez, nice gum) and his buddies, Terry the classic car collector, fun people and the fun people they meet along the way.
DeeDee from Rhode Island, and others.
The group is constantly growing. Sherma became a fixed member of that circle while I have been on the outskirts. Despite the fact that seeing them always feels like old home week.
Sherma was about an hour late for the drum circle, but that was OK. I had a wonderful latte and it was a gorgeous night.
When she DID show up, she said “this is for you!” It was a packet of professional photos.
She said “I wasn’t supposed to give this to you unless I called him first to tell him where you are.” ???!!!
I said “GOD no, he’s my stalker. Please tell him nothing.”
He seemed nice enough when we met. I have such a soft spot for people who have been through the mill mentally, emotionally or physically.
I was at the Tiki Bar with Donna a few weeks back, standing inside talking to friends when I noticed an attractive guy pick up a barstool (with some difficulty) and walk all around our area to deliver it at my side. He said "I wanted you to be able to sit."
So I sat.
Within a few moments he had blurted out his saga of brain tumors and subsequent surgeries, how he was mostly OK now except for some “holes”.
Had I gone the shrink route years back, I was thinking of getting involved in closed head injury patients – those people whose lives can change in the blink of an eye due to a car accident, fall or other circumstance. My heart absolutely goes out to them.
I was very nice to him; Donna was upset, had a bad vibe and tried to warn me off. I was doing nothing more than being kind.
He was/is a professional photographer and … well, I know they are mostly nuts. All creative people are nuts. Writers are hermity nuts, designers are ego nuts, photographers run the gamut from sexual predators to the biggest egos of all. Think about all the gorgeous models who have fallen for the toads behind cameras. They do have an aura … well, no wonder. A great photographer can make you immortal.
Anyway, this one acted like an abandoned puppy. He watched me from the sidelines and begged me not to leave til I said good-bye.
That was Night of the Shriners and there was no shortage of guys who wanted to dance. And I was in the mood to dance. One looked like Newman from Seinfeld with all the trappings of success. He stood 3’ away and stared at me. He breathed creepy when we danced.
Another group consisted of one hunky, funny brother and five hilarious sisters from Buffalo – they were awesome. Donna and I hung with them and laughed our asses off.
When the photographer did manage to catch me for a dance, I noticed I had to help him balance as he moved.
He’s originally from Michigan, so I introduced him to my friends. Gave him my number to be polite … and at the end … after he had waited about 3 hours for me to say my good-bye – he had a rose waiting for me. All very sweet.
Until the next day when the calls started coming in. He said he had written a letter but didn’t have my address. I didn’t offer one. He texted. After about 8 contacts in two hours I told him he had to stop calling.
I said I was very much in love with someone.
The calls stopped for about two hours, then came the text “but I thought we had something special.” Now I know how guys feel. I finally saved his phone number as “Stalker” and never answered again.
Meanwhile he has been working my circle of friends at the beach. I pulled the photos out of the envelope and … although they’re really good, I am clearly apprehensive of the person who’s taking them.
A year ago “while trolling” we accidentally fell in with a group of people from my area of Michigan.
These are great, great people - Good Randy (with me in this photo - jeez, nice gum) and his buddies, Terry the classic car collector, fun people and the fun people they meet along the way.
DeeDee from Rhode Island, and others.
The group is constantly growing. Sherma became a fixed member of that circle while I have been on the outskirts. Despite the fact that seeing them always feels like old home week.
Sherma was about an hour late for the drum circle, but that was OK. I had a wonderful latte and it was a gorgeous night.
When she DID show up, she said “this is for you!” It was a packet of professional photos.
She said “I wasn’t supposed to give this to you unless I called him first to tell him where you are.” ???!!!
I said “GOD no, he’s my stalker. Please tell him nothing.”
He seemed nice enough when we met. I have such a soft spot for people who have been through the mill mentally, emotionally or physically.
I was at the Tiki Bar with Donna a few weeks back, standing inside talking to friends when I noticed an attractive guy pick up a barstool (with some difficulty) and walk all around our area to deliver it at my side. He said "I wanted you to be able to sit."
So I sat.
Within a few moments he had blurted out his saga of brain tumors and subsequent surgeries, how he was mostly OK now except for some “holes”.
Had I gone the shrink route years back, I was thinking of getting involved in closed head injury patients – those people whose lives can change in the blink of an eye due to a car accident, fall or other circumstance. My heart absolutely goes out to them.
I was very nice to him; Donna was upset, had a bad vibe and tried to warn me off. I was doing nothing more than being kind.
He was/is a professional photographer and … well, I know they are mostly nuts. All creative people are nuts. Writers are hermity nuts, designers are ego nuts, photographers run the gamut from sexual predators to the biggest egos of all. Think about all the gorgeous models who have fallen for the toads behind cameras. They do have an aura … well, no wonder. A great photographer can make you immortal.
Anyway, this one acted like an abandoned puppy. He watched me from the sidelines and begged me not to leave til I said good-bye.
That was Night of the Shriners and there was no shortage of guys who wanted to dance. And I was in the mood to dance. One looked like Newman from Seinfeld with all the trappings of success. He stood 3’ away and stared at me. He breathed creepy when we danced.
Another group consisted of one hunky, funny brother and five hilarious sisters from Buffalo – they were awesome. Donna and I hung with them and laughed our asses off.
When the photographer did manage to catch me for a dance, I noticed I had to help him balance as he moved.
He’s originally from Michigan, so I introduced him to my friends. Gave him my number to be polite … and at the end … after he had waited about 3 hours for me to say my good-bye – he had a rose waiting for me. All very sweet.
Until the next day when the calls started coming in. He said he had written a letter but didn’t have my address. I didn’t offer one. He texted. After about 8 contacts in two hours I told him he had to stop calling.
I said I was very much in love with someone.
The calls stopped for about two hours, then came the text “but I thought we had something special.” Now I know how guys feel. I finally saved his phone number as “Stalker” and never answered again.
Meanwhile he has been working my circle of friends at the beach. I pulled the photos out of the envelope and … although they’re really good, I am clearly apprehensive of the person who’s taking them.
(The photo of me with Good Randy shown here was that same night.)
After 3 hours in the drum circle - with people playing everything from expensive drums and guitars to shoe boxes and wooden spoons - I headed back to the Tiki Bar to say goodbye to my Michigan friends. We laughed about the photographer. They have a soft spot in their hearts for him already.
But I think they know enough to keep me out of that loop.
Lessons learned … Drum circles; really cool.
Desperately lonely people; a little scary.
After 3 hours in the drum circle - with people playing everything from expensive drums and guitars to shoe boxes and wooden spoons - I headed back to the Tiki Bar to say goodbye to my Michigan friends. We laughed about the photographer. They have a soft spot in their hearts for him already.
But I think they know enough to keep me out of that loop.
Lessons learned … Drum circles; really cool.
Desperately lonely people; a little scary.
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