Don't Misunderstand Me

I want to explain, because it is suddenly extremely urgent and important that, in the end, we are not misunderstood.
-Morag Joss
in the book "Half Broken Things"

There was another song I heard repeatedly while driving along in France and Spain in May 2009 that caught my ear. It is called 'World, Hold On' and I share the tune with you today. It has a special beat while it reminds us all to brace ourselves and 'open up your heart' to what you really feel.
http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=world+hold+on+lyrics&docid=872954659610&mid=1E0B4C6A76FE1B4CCFE71E0B4C6A76FE1B4CCFE7&FORM=VIVR5

Twenty-five years ago today:

July 5, 1984
Thursday

I have only one more workday in Downtown Oakland!

I telephoned Frank Vasconcellos on my lunch break because I had no plans at lunchtime. Frank had said he would come over to visit tonight. I had forgotten about that.

I rushed home after work and had a quick light bite at mom’s place.

At about 6:15PM Frank called from the Fruitvale BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) station where I picked him up (of course). I introduced Frank to my pad here at: 3348 Solomon Lane. He seemed rather impressed with the townhouse but did not talk about it much. I think he wanted to 'move in'. We decided to go to the Red Robin in San Leandro for a drink. I had an avocado burger and a melon ball. Frank enjoyed a banana milkshake.

We went for a ride into the Hayward Hills and we caught up on each others’ latest “goings on”. It was fun because we laughed a lot about nonsense. I drove Frank home where I had a glass of water and was cordially introduced to his mother and sister.

Frank told me he was having some trouble with some new guy named Carlos. Earlier in the evening I had fun reading him old entry excerpts from my journal/diary. He liked hearing the parts about him from our old times. The June 1983 parts from when we had first met were fascinating to him.

I came home and crashed on my bed for a while. I called Mary (Danny’s roommate) and was speaking to her when my call waiting interrupted. It was Danny Garcia calling me from San Jose, California.
“You won’t believe it. I placed eighth and did not make the finals,” Danny said in a sad, monotone voice.
I could tell Danny was feeling down. I tried to encourage him as he seemed to quickly ‘get over it’.
“Listen why don’t you come over tomorrow?” Danny asked.
“Okay,” I said happily, “That’s a great idea”.