What is a Massapequa? (Herman's Story)

What is a Massapequa?

When I was 22 years old, a friend who lived on Long Island near Massapequa, asked me to come out and share expenses with her. Her husband was going into the Army. Having just survived the most extreme year of my life, I was happy to change my geography, thinking that it might just change my attitude as well. I told her yes, I would be happy to move in with her.

There Is Something About A Man In Uniform.

I was able get a job at the 7-11 convenience store at 80 Brooklyn Avenue in Freeport, which was about 1/4 mile from the apartment we lived at. I walked to work everyday. I tried to work as many hours as possible to be able to pay my bills. I was working the 7 to 3 shift this June 2^nd Wednesday that the YooHoo man made his delivery. I was stopped in my tracks. I stared at him. Gawked is a better word for it. He went about his business not noticing me. He put away the bottles of chocolate YooHoo and brought me the packing slip. I wiped away the drool that was dripping from my chin and took a deep breath. I left to count the wares and signed the packing slip. He left without another word. He would return with more YooHoo on Friday.

Move Over Fabio.

For the next two days my fantasies had us in every romantic situation possible from riding white steeds to piloting airplanes to secluded islands. As Thursday turned into Friday, I walked to work with an extra bounce to my step. My YooHoo man was returning. He walked through the same series of steps that he had done on Wednesday. It was simply a prelude to the rest of our lives together. I counted the YooHoos and as I handed him the slip back, I asked him his name. "Herman." Getting him to say more was going to take tact. "Okay, Herman it’s nice to meet you." Ugh, meet him? I wanted to lay down in sweet green grass with this man and let him read poetry to me as we sipped Chocolate YooHoo’s til nightfall. Do better my mind shouted. "Doyouwanttogotodinnerwithmeandmaybemovieafterwardtonight?" He smiled at me and laughed. "Are you serious?" This was the most serious string of words that ever rushed out of my mouth. "Yup, serious." Oh My God Oh My God I’m sounding like a half-wit! "Sure, should I pick you up here?" At that point I think I did the Snoopy dance in front of him with a little yippee shout. I gave him my phone number and told him where I was staying.

You Call It Soda, I’ll Call It Pop.

On June 4, 1982 at 7:30 pm Herman and I went out on our first date. We saw the movie Poltergeist starring Craig T. Nelson, JoBeth Williams and Heather O'Rourke who played this really creepy five year old girl. I remember taking the opportunity that scarey movies allow to curl up close and tight next to Herman. He protected me from the fictitious demons on the silver screen and kept me safe from harm. We went to a little hole in the wall pizza joint for dinner. It was the best New York pizza I ever had. A slice of pizza pie with fresh mozzarella cheese and sweet basil on mine. I can’t remember what he had on his slice. We drank pop, he called it soda. I was in heaven. I remember what he smelled like when he put his arm around my shoulders as we walked down the street. Still some 27 years later, I remember what he smelled like.

Unfortunate Crucial Information.

It is unfortunate that I have to add the next few statements. It is crucial to the decisions that will unfold as this story is told. On September 14, 1981 I had a baby I named Christopher. She was born 6 weeks early. She lived four hours. When she died, I lost a part of myself, a part that would remain empty for the rest of my life. I think all mothers who lose children feel some part of the same way. I went wandering for a couple years, sometimes getting lost, and sometimes just hiding. I was resisting the urge to live. I was heartbroken and empty. This is what I eluded to in the first paragraph when I said, "Having just survived the most extreme year of my life ..." With that understanding I was certainly not ready to conceive another child. I barred my uterus from accepting any sperm whatsoever. I was on the pill. Knowing that the pill is only 99.8% effective, I also had a diaphragm with spermicide that I used religiously. Coupling the pill and the diaphragm might have been enough, but to add to my own sense of security I also used the ‘Today Sponge’. While still used today, it was most popular in the 80's. The whole spongeworthy concept and all. Four types of birth control used simultaneously every time I had an inkling that I even might have sex so I wouldn’t ever be put in a heart wrenching situation.

Hershey’s Can’t Make Them Sweeter.

Herman may have thought he would get lucky on our first date. I know just smelling him did things to my soul that I thought were dead to me. I was feeling again for the first time in a long time. I was wanting to feel again. He did that to me. It was instant combustion when I saw him the very first time. Whoosh - strike a match, set a fire, light up the sky with fireworks ... To my own surprise, Herman didn’t get lucky that night. We talked and held hands. We walked with his arm around my shoulders. He made me feel safe in his arms. We were both very surprised when we saw the sun coming up. We left and he kissed me goodnight - sweet, delicious kiss. A kiss I have not forgotten. A kiss that was to begin the rest of my life.

Meatloaf or Marriage?

On the beach. At night. Full moon. Water lapping at the shore. I loved him. He loved me. It was beautiful, he was beautiful. I wanted to live forever in his heart. I wanted to be the reflection in his eyes for as long as his eyes could see. I wanted him to marry me. I never said that. Asking for dinner is one thing, asking for a husband is an entirely different conversation. Our time together was coming to an end, but of course neither one of us could have possibly known that yet.

Instructions For Positively Negative.

Step 1.) Take the pill.

Step 2.) Squeeze a line of spermicide around the lip of my diaphragm.

Step 3.) Put the diaphragm in place.

Step 4.) Wet the sponge, squeeze it out, snug it up tight to the diaphragm.

Everytime. Period.

No Period.

One morning, I think it was Oct 29, of 82, I woke up knowing something was not copasetic . I was positive I was pregnant. I took a test and it showed negative. I took another, it too was negative. I was positively positive I was pregnant and did not know what to do. I felt so alone and so perplexed. How? How? How? I was 100% on my 1.), 2.), 3.), 4.). Everytime. So here is where I threw all my Baggage with a capitol B into my thought process. The way I saw it through my eyes, the same eyes that in the not so distant past had received a devastating blow to the soul was

1.) Herman would ask me to marry him. Yippee! I would have said yes, emphatically YES! Then I would spend the rest of our married life wondering if he felt stuck, forced, having no other option but to marry me, or,

2.) Herman would give me $300 bucks and point me in the direction of an abortion clinic, or

3.) Deny, deny, deny.

Dear John, err, umm Herman.

I wasn’t going to hear any of the above. I left. I skipped town. I ran away ... fast. Herman got a letter I left for him there at the 7-11. I didn’t mention the baby. I don’t remember what I wrote about, but I know it was a pack of lies. I was ‘going home’ to my mother’s house to have my baby. I probably told him something like ‘it was time to move on’ or perhaps, ‘I need to go visit a sick friend’. I don’t remember, I do remember crying the entire time I wrote. I so bad wanted to stay, but I was more afraid of what he would say. The next day I was gone.

Positively Positive Pee.

I urinated on so many sticks during the next couple of months. I was positively positive that I was pregnant, but it was showing negative on every single one of those taunting sticks. My sister in law said I was being wishful. My aunt asked me how did I know? I told her ‘I just do." My mom thought I was unbalanced. She knew what transpired within me during the aftermath of my Christopher. She fully expected me to turn up pregnant. Funny thing though, is, that I didn’t want to be pregnant, hence the overkill on the contraceptives, I just knew I was. It took 14 weeks for the pregnancy to show up on a contemptuous pee stick.

The Cowardly Lion has just received a Courage Medal.

July 13, 1983 came and I delivered the most beautiful baby boy. He looked just like his father, even at birth I could see Herman in him. Dark hair, dark eyes. Everyone said he favored my daddy, but I knew the truth. I found the courage I needed and I called Herman on December 31, 1983. We talked and laughed together for over five hours. Straight through the birth of the New Year. I had sent him a Christmas card with my son’s photo in it. Herman’s mother opened the card he told me. When she looked at the photo she said to Herman, "That baby is yours. He is you made over again." I told him then that, yes he was my son’s father. My son was almost 6 months old at that time. I remember there was a long, quiet time on the phone, then Herman whispered, "Why?" "Why now? I just got married." I remember all my air rushing out of my lungs. I couldn’t breath. The lights went dim, then they flared with blinding light. I blew it. Blew It Big Time.

Love Letters and Roses

When my son was two years old I took him to Long Island to meet Herman. He brought me a red rose, (I still have it) and a romantic Hallmark card (I have that still as well). It didn’t turn out the way my minds eye had fantasized about it. He was aloof. He was uninterested. He cared less than I thought he might. I left New York knowing I had made the right decision, but yet, I still loved him. Still yearned for him. Silently.

And Even Though I Know How Very Far Apart We Are, It Helps To Think We Might Be Wishing On The Same Bright Star.

My son, now a man himself got married this past summer. It wasn’t long afterward that he came to me and asked me a bit about Herman. He said he found what he hoped was the right address on the internet. He had mailed him a letter. I called Herman, I wanted him to know that the letter was coming. I wanted him to answer the letter. I wanted just to hear his voice say my name one more time. I spoke with Herman’s wife. They are still married. I didn’t know if she knew about my son or not, so I thought I better not mention him to her. I did ask her to pass my phone number on to Herman. He called me two and a half weeks later. Nearly twenty seven years disappeared when I heard his voice. He apologized to me. I miss him. Funny how that is, but there it is, I miss him. I still love him ... somewhere in my heart there is a place where love resides solely for Herman. He gave me the best part of me - he gave me my son. I never asked a thing from Herman, ever. The only thing I ever really wanted from him I couldn’t have anymore. He gave it to another woman. That’s sad.

Ever After.

I don’t know how this story is going to end. I sit here writing this tonight and wishing he would call.

Strange how all this makes me imagine him riding white steeds to piloting airplanes to secluded islands ... ... ...

Several Weeks Later ....

My son recieved the letter he had hoped for. It was filled with the information he wanted to know. There was photographs of Herman's family, he has two brothers. He also saw who he looks like, something I have known all his life, but never told him. My son is happy with the news and found out that his brother wants to make contact with him has thrilled him.

Me? Well I haven't heard back from Herman, nor should I. He is a long ago, albeit important figure in my life. Hearing his voice spirited me back into a time that was comfortable and easy in memory. It's was a soft sweet place to visit.