Dreams Do Come True, all about love...

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%.

I dreamed of my "gentle-man" as I called him. I had many crushes during my teen years, but none matched up to the faceless kind of love shown in this tiny paperback book of poems.

This ideal for what love would look like when worn by two people stayed with me and when I saw it in Emery, I knew right away. He was the person with whom I could be 100% me, be silly, be contemplative, seek answers with, and rest in his arms and feel a level of security that was beyond words.

Amazingly my dreams all came true and they continue to blossom into so much more. I kept being focused on never settling for less. I waited until 1978 to find this gentle man of mine and now nearly 30 years later, it is even more than I ever imagined it could be. We still walk in the rain together, I still pop my hand in his back pocket or hang on his collar as we walk. Love notes still find their way onto pillows and chairs. We still have deep and meaningful conversations about the meaning of life and picnic on the grass, watching clouds float by. We still toss a Frisbee, laugh at what it feels like to skip together at our age, and my favorite place in all the world is in this gentle mans arms. Dreams do come true, even when they are formed by a 16 year old.

Photos: Steven Hansen