THEN AND NOW ON DUTCH

 then:

now:

an old backyard view of a farmhouse on Dutch:

and now:

old views:

looking out to Dutch:

from the side of the house looking east: 

an old farmhouse on Dutch Broadway:

a fuller view: 

and now:

Patsy's on Dutch: 

and now, The Meadows: 

an old front door where The Meadows now stands: 

the old main house at the Wayside Home: 

and now it's Dutchgate: 

before Dutchgate:

and the VS museum: 

WHAT GROUNDS A TOWN

a main street

a diner

billboards

a bus stop and street light

an adult care home

a house decorated for Halloween

a church

a drive-in

a music shop

fog

a street after the rain

wall art

the woods

old storied houses

a  museum

a prison

a prison next to railroad tracks where the mournful sounds of trains passed as hopeless inmates waited to die

Lou

"Just as the morning follows the night…"

"I love..."

"I've been thinking of you today…"

Notes to a young woman's heart:

           

These greeting cards are pieces of a bittersweet memory from 1970 to 1973, and the messages are quite romantic. I saved the cards to always remember a man I loved named: Lou. But, this was a dark and layered and mysterious "love" because Lou was not just a man... he was my therapist.

Lou looked like Al Pacino in "Serpico." And he was married with several children. I'll be brief...

I began seeing a therapist in about 1970. His office was in Greenwich Village and after just a few sessions I came under the seductive spell of "erotic transference." I grew attached and I was dependent. I fell in love, or thought I had fallen in love. The feelings were not yet mutual at that time. 

There arrived the day when Lou told me he was moving his practice to Staten Island. I was not ready at all for the separation and I was emotionally devastated. So, I followed him to Staten Island and became a twice a week regular ferry rider.

The longing for him until my sessions each week was unbearable. I was vaguely aware back then that transference was a common feeling when in analysis. And I had fallen deeply in love with my therapist. 

Lou sent a real mixed bag of messages; by turns flirting with me and allowing me to believe the feelings were becoming mutual, and at the end of each session he drove me back to catch the ferry. 

But, in the sessions he would emotionally push me away. He pulled me in and gave me hope and played with my desire, and then confused me by pushing me away within his mercurial whim. He vaguely promised to soon meet me for lunch in Manhattan and then in the next session he told me to find another therapist. I returned home filled with longing and I was confused and desperately unhappy. I was in anguish. I wrote him long love letters in which I poured out my heart.

He sent me greeting cards for Valentine's Day and my birthday... blurred copies are posted at this blog (configured with folds to fit.) 

The saga continued for several years and well... as it goes with time, the hypnotic spell eventually broke and I ended the "therapy." One day, just like that.

About eight years later, in 1981... I tried Lou's old number and I called. I needed closure. Lou was very excited and happy to hear from me. He was now divorced. He started calling me twice a day. I had to tell him to calm down. 

So, we had dinner at a Manhattan restaurant. He sat there all pompous and smoking a nasty cigar. We went back to my apartment and well... anyway, when he left he hugged me and I knew he was saying good-bye forever. He had not changed. He had told me over dinner his experience with me took him to a place where he made a decision to never allow physical contact with a patient in a session ever again. The man was a fast and quick study!

I look back on this episode of my life now and it is somewhat bittersweet but also somewhat meaningless. I am not angry. I feel nothing. I know this goes on. I watched "In Treatment." Lou was verbally unprofessional, unethical, and his behavior was inconsistent. He did not know what to do about me and he could not handle and come to terms with his own feelings. 

I hope in real life transference is being handled properly by those who have fallen under it's seductive spell. I am happy I saved all of Lou's cards because I am reminded of what I believed to be what Diane Keaton has called "the sweet anguish of love..." in my specific situation in all it's full-blown and enabled delusional glory.

Dec. 6 2020:

I wrote the above memoir back in 2009 and reposted it today. I wish I had, for the readers of this piece, a more romantic denouement. 

There is a final part that happened, regarding Lou, since I wrote this back in 2009 that I will keep private because it does not impact the saga. 

All the readers need to know is that after that day in my apartment in 1981, I never saw Lou or ever spoke to him again. 

Lou passed away in 2014, but he will live forever within my own memory and quite honestly... I do wish I had a chance to say good-bye. 

THERE MUST BE STREET LAMPS IN PARADISE

The street on which I grew up had no fancy street lights. There were no special quaint lights to guide the way home at night. There were no magical street lamps to remember. My street lights do not light up "the corners of my mind."

But there are some vintage street lights on roads in America that would make me feel I was living in... paradise. 

And there are lights that remain even as the seasons change: