Way back in 1970 I used to listen to Dick Summer on the radio. Disc Jockey extraordinaire that wrote amazing love poems. His rich voice, soft and so full of love for the woman he wrote about in his life. Now I must admit that most of the true meanings of his poems slid past me, my innocence never picking up the deeper more intimate meanings. That is how much of life's understandings go, we don't catch what we don't know about. (some of his poems make me blush to this day)
Dick Summer had a book of his poems published and I paid the $1.95 out of my summer job pay check as fast as I could get my hands on a copy. The photography in the book took my breath away. Pictures taken by a fellow names Steve Hansen. All black and white's. The kind that makes you feel something, even if you have not experienced it yourself. That is art. To this young girl of 16, with eyes filled with fancy, this book set into motion the very ideals for what I wanted to find in love. To have someone to love so deeply that at times no words need be spoken, and that in other moments, laughter in the rain would fill me soul. And always, always to have a love that held hands and that I would always find that safe feeling in being myself, 100%.