A new and different look at the Amicus, John Cole, former radio announcer and newspaper reporter…. and… father… which is why… A recent family reunion of fifteen grandchildren, eight boys, seven girls, reminds me of what life is all about. I have had a life many would aspire to, ran from an abusive step father at age twelve, joined the US Navy at seventeen, married at eighteen, a baby girl at nineteen. Toured Europe on a motorcycle, thus, “Natasha”, let Miss Canada drive my ‘57 T-Bird, the one with t hr port-holes, drove my little girl around in a ’58 Austin-Healy Mk 3000. Interviewed Joan Baez... Had Don Ho and his band as guests on my radio program many times. Built and sailed a boat from Miami into the Caribbean, cut down 1400 trees with a 32” Stihl saw as a logger and cut beef as a butcher… Been to Alaska, loved a Canadian girl and served fifteen months in Goose Bay, Labrador as an Air Force communications supervisor. But my six children have proven to be the greatest delight of all… hi guys… I have some life to share with you… Got arrested, along with a nineteen year old co-ed from the University of Hawaii, for painting a Pink line down the main street of Waikiki on St. Patrick’s day… Judge said had we painted it green… I loved my work as a DJ and radio and television talk show host, loved even more the newspaper reporting for high school sports, and play by play game broadcasting… and now I write naughty stories about all the girls I met and then some… in the hope of entertaining you for a while…
Harvest Moonby Amicus
Harvest moon: a time of rejoicing after the crops have been harvested and the wood stored for the long winter ahead. At a harvest moon dance, a boy watches a spirited girl dancing and his life is forever changed by her grace and form. Afraid to ask her for a dance, he watches glumly as she dances away the night in the arms of others. The next year, he vows, will be
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Harvest moon: a time of rejoicing after the crops have been harvested and the wood stored for the long winter ahead. At a harvest moon dance, a boy watches a spirited girl dancing and his life is forever changed by her grace and form. Afraid to ask her for a dance, he watches glumly as she dances away the night in the arms of others. The next year, he vows, will be different…
When I was a boy my father explained that the moon was full and that was how we determined the months of the seasons that came and went from warm to cold and back again.
He told me that the Harvest Moon was a special time. A time when the crops of summer were harvested and stored away for the coming cold and how the people were happy that their work in the fields and the woods would see them through.
Sometimes when it was large and full, the moon took on colors that it seldom did, ranging from a blue tint, to a deep yellow, to gold, to orange and sometimes an angry red with dark lines of clouds across the face. Those were not good harvest moons he said, but I did not understand.
As the days grew shorter and the evenings cooled, there was less work to do; distant families visited, and we went from farm to farm to renew old acquaintances and share the fruit of the harvest. It was a very good time of the season.
It was always planned and adjusted for the time of a full moon, but the harvest season ended with a huge festival that the entire village attended. Everyone brought food and tables abounded with good things to eat; smells of cooking meats and baking things filled the air and music came from all directions; it was the best time of the whole season.
There was the dancing too, at night, on a raised platform with torches lighting the night. I never paid much attention; happy to roam and run and cause mischief with my friends and eat and tease and run some more until I was exhausted and the evening deepened and it was time to leave.
This harvest moon was different.
The friends I ran with all seemed to find girls to wander away with and I found myself alone, watching the dancers on the stage.
And this girl... oh, my, this girl... glided across the dancing area not in any human fashion; but floating, swaying, bending, moving in ways I had never seen before. I could not look away from her.
My eyes were entranced with her long dark hair vibrant in motion, the low cut bodice of her flowing gown, her uplifted arms in movement and rhythm, her delicate fingers and feet seeming fantasy-like in the shifting and glowing lights. My eyes were wide, my mouth open and my heart raced. I had never felt such things before.
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