Wayne, his friend Tom, and I scorpion hunted for Dr. Stohnkie at ASU. We went out at night, covered head to toe in the 100+ heat with black lights, #10 cans, and tongs painted in green florescent paint. Shine the light on the desert and it was like picking up quarters. I rattlesnake hunted with them once. Once.

Enough, I said, is enough.


My "back from death experience" at 17 resulted in family friends inviting me to Tempe; my senior year was the best in my life. Not only because I found myself healthy and well liked at school and church, which was significant, but because of Wayne. He was, and is, my one true love--though we were never romantically involved. At the time I was being molested by the doctor under whose care my mother had left me (also leader of the Young Life group at Scottsale High.) I understand Angelou's I Know Why A Caged Bird Sings. Because of Wayne, I sang. His extreme intelligence, his goodness and humor brought music to a soul in starvation.

I've spoken to my friend only twice since June 2, 1972, the day I married and life ended. Perhaps someday we'll run into each other again. NOTE: An update on this can be found in my blog.



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