Okay, this is a follow up from something I mentioned the other day, regarding my first slow dance with a boy, the first bar mitzvah I attended, and a phone call from Carole King — all when I was 11 years old.

It also leads to my first kiss with a boy (at age 12). Then to a time in life when things just got hopelessly awful. And ultimately to the death of yet another boy I knew, from a motorcycle crash. (Between 1974 and 1976, 4 of my freinds had been killed in motorcycle crashes; all of them boys, aged 15 – 17.)

First, here is something that I find kind of astonishing. I was able to easily find the 2 photos below and the 2 newspaper clippings — and I have moved 16 times, lived in 8 different cities, and 4 States since this all happened. There are tons of things I have lost along the way, but oddly enough, not these things.

Here is a photo from the bar mitzvah that took place in Columbus, Ohio, in early 1972. The boy not wearing a boutonniere, on the right, is Michael, the boy who had just gotten bar mitzvah’d. (And the boy on the left, is my older brother, at age 13.)

So that was the first bar mitzvah I attended.

Michael and his family lived across the street from us when we first moved to Columbus in 1971, back when my parents were still married. Our families became very close because we were all really Jewish.

I liked Michael a lot, however Michael had a huge crush on me. He was the first boy (that I’m aware of) that had a crush on me. When he asked me to dance with him at the bar mitzvah party, a slow dance, I felt really shy and really awkward (and really tall — I was 5 ft. 7 1/2 inches when I was 11).

At this point in his life, Michael was really, really nice. And dancing with him felt okay, even though he held me really close and all of our parents were watching us and smiling.

And then while we were dancing — Carole King called on the telephone.

This is remarkable for a couple of reasons, the main one being that she was EXTREMELY famous at this point. The other being that she had called the synagogue, where the bar mitzvah & party were being held — and she lived in Los Angeles — so she went out of her way to talk directly to Michael to congratulate him on his bar mitzvah.

Michael and his family were first cousins with Carole King.

So, my first slow dance with a boy, at age 11, was interrupted by Carole King! However, I was just thrilled! I, of course, had her album, Tapestry — it was a HUGE hit by then. I knew every word to every song on the record. So that was a pretty cool interruption, in my opinion. Plus, I wasn’t really that thrilled with the closeness of slow dancing so I was happy with the interruption, all the way around.

Michael didn’t attend public school. He attended a private Hebrew Academy at that point. And later that summer — the fateful Summer of 1972, when my entire life burst wide open and was never the same again because the Rolling Stones went on tour that summer, promoting their new album, Exile on Main St, and I discovered the Rolling Stones and my life completely CHANGED…

Anyway. Life changed. It seemed like it changed for everybody that summer. But at one point, that summer, a group of us — including my brother and Michael, and Michael’s cousin, Mark — were hanging out at the back of our backyard, and right there in front of everybody, Michael kissed me.

I had never been kissed before. There were no tongues, or anything, but it was a kiss on the mouth. Michael just had this intense crush that I didn’t share. And I didn’t like the kiss. At all. But I was polite, and everything.

But that fall, when all of us went off to a public Junior High School and Michael was stuck in a private school, he started to rebel. Sort of like crazy. But by the following spring, all of us were rebelling in various ways. (Including my dad, who had left us for a much younger woman.)

Here’s a photo from late Spring of 1973, once again in our backyard. I’m taking the photo, so I’m not in it. But Michael is in the center, facing the camera. 2 neighbor boys are standing behind the fence. My brother is facing away from the camera. Michael’s cousin, Mark, is looking at the camera, and the 2 girls, Debbie and Carol, were 2 of my closest freinds back then.

This is the last memory I have of Michael being a nice guy. Shortly after this, he was arrested for stealing, so his parents sent him to a military academy and from then on, he rebelled beyond belief. And he became just a really angry, racist, and hateful guy.

The following summer, when he was home on summer break, and my mom and brother and I had moved to an apartment complex where the 1970s were in full swing… Michael showed up at our apartment with a friend from school. He let himself into our apartment (the doors were always unlocked back then) and he and his friend came right up to my room, wanting to get high.

I was home alone, which was not unusual, since my mom worked. But Michael attacked me in my room, Started pulling my clothes off. He was just so full of inexplicable rage at the mere sight of me. But thankfully his friend intervened and made Michael stop. After that incident, though, I tried to stay as far away from Michael as I could get.

He finally became so unmanageable that he got kicked out of the military academy when he was 16 and his parents enrolled him in public school — so, for the first time, ever, Michael was in a public school. The same high school I attended. And Michael just went wild. He got himself arrested with some other boys, for beating up some black kids at one of our high school football games (using tire irons, chains, etc. — it was just awful). And then it was really imperative for me to stay the fuck out of his way.

If I saw him in the school hallway or on the stairs, I would turn right around and hurry off in some other direction. And he would shout after me, stuff like, “What’s the matter, Marilyn? Can’t you even say hi? You bitch!”

That Spring, though, it all officially came to a halt:

I was stunned, of course, but even back then, when I was 16, I felt like it was a blessing for him. He was such an unhappy guy; he had really, really railed against Life.

I cried at his funeral, because I remembered the boy he had once been, but I still felt that, overall, he was better off dead.

Okay, so that’s the quick story of all that.

I’m gonna scoot now, because I’m meeting my long-time friend, Steve soon — who knew all these same people back then, because he and I met at age 11 and he was also Jewish. All the Jews knew each other.

Anyway, we’re meeting at Three Tigers Brewing Co. in Granville for lunch today, in honor of the anniversary of the passing of our mutual friend, Kent. I’ll have a regular blog post tomorrow!

But, quickly, here’s this–

The setlist from Nick Cave’s concert in Macedonia. Once again, an incredible encore!!!

Have a good Monday, wherever you are in the world.

Thanks for visiting.

I love you guys. See ya!

************

I leave you with this. So eerily appropriate.

“It’s Too Late,” Carole King’s HUGE hit from her 1971 album, Tapestry.

RIP, Michael. 49 years gone.

“It’s Too Late”

Stayed in bed all morning just to pass the time
There’s something wrong here, there can be no denying
One of us is changing, or maybe we’ve just stopped trying

And it’s too late, baby, now it’s too late
Though we really did try to make it
Something inside has died and I can’t hide
And I just can’t fake it, Oh no no

It used to be so easy living here with you
You were light and breezy and I knew just what to do
Now you look so unhappy, and I feel like a fool

And it’s too late, baby, now it’s too late
Though we really did try to make it
Something inside has died and I can’t hide
And I just can’t fake it, oh no no

There’ll be good times again for me and you
But we just can’t stay together, don’t you feel it too
Still I’m glad for what we had, and how I once loved you

But it’s too late, baby, now it’s too late
Though we really did try to make it
Something inside has died and I can’t hide
And I just can’t fake it, Oh no no no no no

It’s too late
Baby
It’s too late
Now darling
It’s too late

c – 1971 Carole King