I played her music for my heart to hear
I brought my pictures to the fore
And I touched your words with a loving stroke
Hoping my fingers would absorb even more.
I pressed your words to my heart
The one that is hidden from view
I let the tears flow with a beautiful warmth
Knowing I was caressing a fragment of you.
I held your words against my cheek,
Breathed them in; I searched for your scent
But if it was there ever in time,
It seems now it’s long since been spent.
You held the pen in your beautiful hand
And you must have steadied the paper.
And two small words and your name and a dot
Let me touch you all these decades later.
April 4, 2008
I am so excited to tell you I received a note and two autographed pictures from our very own "Wheat"--Earl Holliman, today! If you have read my episode notes on The Pilot, you know I am a huge fan and I think his work on Alias Smith and Jones was absolutely brilliant. I had never written a fan letter before, but I did to Mr. Holliman in February, never dreaming he would actually write back!! I had a few prints made from vidcaps he was in and sent them along, asking him if he would mind signing one and sending it back. Not only did he do that, he signed an 8x10 and wrote me a lovely note also. I am so thrilled!! What a gracious man he is to take the time to make this old lady so happy!!! Now everyone be on your best behavior, Mr. Holliman promises he will visit here soon!
And now I would like to share with you that I just finished watching "The Rainmaker" for which Earl Holliman won the Golden Globe for best supporting actor in 1957. What an absolute joy this movie was. I laughed through many of the scenes Earl was in...he was so lanky and funny and engaging and young; I sobbed through the scenes between Katharine Hepburn and Burt Lancaster. If you haven't seen this movie before, I recommend you rent it, or as I did, buy it. It is broad and big and theatrical...and absolutely enchanting from beginning to the very last moment. Just wonderful. A true gem.
Your beautiful smile and lustrous brown eyes,
So filled with warmth and enticement and smoldering pain
Drew me in as a girl of thirteen
And now, as a woman of many years,
I find my own eyes filled with a new wealth of tears.
I have rediscovered your beauty
And I am mourning for the empty decades
Without the exquisiteness of your heart
And talent to share with the world,
And to share with this young girl
Who felt an awakening because of you
And a shattering because of you, too.
It is effortless and arduous both,
To find words expressive enough
To even understand for myself
How your soul touched mine
Before I even knew what it was I was feeling
And how it touches me still to remember you,
Forever in time still young and handsome,
Full of life and offering yourself to the world.
I am sorry you were so sad.
I am sorry the hearts you touched
And stirred to devotion
Weren't felt by you;
Weren't enough to embrace you
And shield you from your horrible impulse.
How cruelly you left me;
How desolately you abandoned yourself.
You shattered me; you broke my immature heart.
And my weathered heart still breaks for you now.
When I was thirteen,
My heart broke for MY loss of you.
Now it only mourns for your loss of you.
Peace, Peter. Rest well.
September 10, 2007