by Young
Andy and I did our best to calm my Master but to no avail. He swore revenge on Mario for his vituperative belligerence towards the apple of his eye. While the Count avowed that he had never violated or imprisoned anyone against their will, let alone the Moroccan.
This exploit ended his bromance with the athlete. The feud between the Playboys continued after Tad had terminated his cursory affair with the quacky bipolar Kalf.
We achieved little success even though my lover and I did our best to amend the men’s relationship. The duo finally made peace on a sunny day in the merry month of May 1969. Their bromance resumed with a vengeance as if nothing repugnant had ever happened.
On the other spectrum, Mariam and Kalf bonded like a couple of long-lost siblings. Both had similar aspirations to grip onto the men that succored their physical beauty for them to climb their respective ladders of success. Not only did their clutches resulted in woeful goodbyes; their dramatic exits also engendered P to shy away from future intimacies with women, and Tad avoided any long-term affinities with potential life partners.
The musicologist moved on to greener pastures after her breakup with the prince. Unfortunate for Kalf, he was back to square one when his fleeting dalliance with my Master ended. The Moroccan revamped himself as a tour guide to wealthy visitors to the Maghreb. That was the last I saw of the femme fatale and the boy toy.
On the contrary, Anastasie made a hasty decision to marry the bisexual prince. By providing P with an heir, she thought she could tether his straying eyes, but sadly, that was not the case. Instead, her speedy resolution caused more damage than an advantage. Subsequently, their child custody litigations flew its fugly colors between the American and the Bahraini Royal family. It ended poorly for both parties.
We disbanded our sojourn up the Atlas after that detrimental air balloon incident. The prince and his entourage returned to Bahrain; while the Sheik, my Master, and our cortège headed to Buenos Aires to bolster Tad’s forthcoming Polo tournament. As for the photographer and the supermodel, they left for Paris; where Andy and I rejoined them later for the grand Swarovski fashion presentation.
Second Week of October 2014
My Message to Andy and David
Wow! Both your emails overwhelmed me. I’d no clue that you, my beloved ex-Valet/lover suffered such a traumatic meltdown after we parted ways. My heart reaches out to you.
Our separation wasn’t easy for me either. Although I did not suffer a nervous breakdown, I ventured down some disreputable alleyways; as you read in A Harem Boy’s Saga – II – Unbridled.
Srihan, the Sri Lankan E.R.O.S. recruit was the only bipolar sufferer I encountered. I know little about Bipolar Affective Disorder except for that incident, and from your account, David.
That leads me to a question - has either of you encountered mythical creatures? I’m curious to know your thoughts on this subject. ??
Young
Being A Big-Brother (Chapter Thirty-Nine)
“You learn more about life from observing your Big-Brother than from reading a book.”
Dr. Richard Lichman
Second Week of September 1968
Bahriji (Oasis) School, Dubai, United Arab Emirates
I couldn’t help but wonder how I would fare as a mentor to a Freshman as I contemplated my future Big-Brother’s role. At that precise moment my Bahriji fencing instructor, Dr. Richard Lichman bumped into me.
“Young, nice to see you back at the Bahriji,” the professor greeted.
I remained quiet when I acknowledged his salutation.
“Why are you looking so glum on this beautiful morn?” he chirped.
“I’m unsure if I’m up to the task as a Big-Brother (BB)?” I replied noncommittally.
“You have the makings of an exceptional BB. There’s nothing to worry about,” Professor Lichman emboldened.
“Come, have a fencing match with me. I’ll demonstrate the X-factors to be a premier Big-Brother,” Richard suggested flirtatiously.
I nodded and followed him to the fencing studio.
Fencing Skills
As we changed into our dueling outfits, the professor remarked, “Big-brothers are like these protective clothing we wear before tournaments. BBs take on a protective role when it comes to the well-being of their young charge, like a lion to its cubs. With his Big-Brother around, Little-Brothers (LB) will never have to worry about creepy men.”
As we stood en garde to commence our combat, my instructor inquired, “Do you remember the person who introduced you to sports and fitness?”
“My Big-Brother Nikee,” I answered.
“That’s correct. A Big-Brother can influence his charge to tap into his competitive side. This skill becomes an asset when his Little-Brother tries to succeed in his career path. A BB provides his charge with great insights into the male-dominated world of competition. He will help develop the boy’s self-esteem and leadership skills,” Richard advised.
Lichman threw me a feint without warning. I parried his attack.
“I almost got you. You’ve to keep your emotions in check when you play the role of a comforter to your LB, especially when he’s in a tricky or tragic situation.
“You’ll also have to be a defender cum bodyguard and be ready to jump to his aid at a moment’s notice. A Big-Brother is his LB’s knight in shining armor before his Prince Charming shows up,” he expressed amusingly.
Before Richard could complete his sentence, I remised. This time around, it was Lichman who countered with a touch.
“Got ya there, son,” my opponent declared facetiously before he added, “A BB knows all his Little-Brother’s shameful moments. He’ll never expose his secrets even if he teases his charge mercilessly. His charge is safe with him because he knows his Big-Bro is his biggest supporter and will brag about him to his friends.”
He paused before he re-commenced teasingly, “Like Andy is to you.”
I countered with an unexpected riposte.
“Ay! You caught me off guard, you crafty devil!” The fencing instructor conveyed.
“You will make a superb Big-Brother. As soon as I get a little too self-assured, you brought me back to reality by a stop-thrust.
“This is definitely a mortifying moment. You were an awkward kid when I taught you, your first fencing move. Now, you’re a pro like me,” he declared before we ended our gregarious duel and headed to the shower stalls.
Our manhood stood to attention like they did in the past as sprays of sparkling aqua cleansed our athletic physiques. This occasional fuck-buddy of mine gave a flirtatious wink that play was a welcome finale to our combative engagement.
“When your charge feels like the world is crumbling at his feet and he feels as if he cannot do anything right; you, the BB will always be there to catch him when he falls because you never want to see him be anything but unhappy. A Big-Brother will always be there for his charge.” Professor Richard Lichman concluded before our evening of fun and games.
Third Week of October 2014
Andy’s Response to My Email, c/c to David
Young,
You always come up with unconventional topics like encounters with mythical creatures. ?? The only mythical creature I’ve encountered is you. You are a unique specimen in a positive way. You are also one fantastical being I’m trying to figure out. Although I don’t dwell on the past and had come to terms with our separation; I’m still mystified by the “real” reason you rejected my life partner’s proposal. I promised to care for you, but you chose differently.
Over the years, I’ve failed miserably to find for someone like you. Although I had a couple of successes, they were short-lived. It was your idiosyncratic modus operandi that attracted me to you. After that, I could not omit you from my life.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to win you over from your life partner of twenty-one years. You are happily married, and I respect that. I’m merely reiterating the promise that I’ll always be here for you as your ex-Big-Brother
and Valet whenever you need my guidance and love.
You have a best friend in me forever.
Love,
Andy
Third Week of October 2014
David’s Response to My Email, c/c to Andy
David’s email arrived a few days after Andy’s message. I couldn’t help but simper at their responses.
David’s email:
Hi guys,
You two lovebirds should message each other privately and not have me involved. I don’t mind reading your lovey-dovey chitter-chatter. Why don’t the two of you have a romantic liaison and get it over with, rather than pining over a lost love? ??
Below is my response to Young’s “serious” question. I do have a tale to tell. LOL!
When I vacationed with my family in Nova Scotia in the Fall of 1967, I encountered Evangeline, A Tale of Acadie. This epic poem was composed by the American poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. The poesy follows an Acadian girl named Evangeline and her search for her lost love Gabriel. It was set in the period of the Expulsion of the Acadians.
The Legend Of Evangeline
“Our perception of the past is often an illusion, a mirage created as much by the biases of the creators of historical records as by the biases of historians themselves. While historians cannot divest themselves altogether of their personal outlook, molded as it is by environmental factors, they can at least attempt to pierce the veil of subjectivity surrounding their chosen topic.”
This is a quote from Carl A. Brasseaux - In Search of Evangeline: Birth and Evolution of the Evangeline Myth.
According to Longfellow, Evangeline is a harrowing but fictional account of two lovers. Evangeline and Gabriel were separated on their wedding day during the expulsion of the Acadians from Acadia (present-day Nova Scotia, Canada). In 1755, the English Governor of Canada issued an ultimatum to the Acadians to swear allegiance to the British Crown and to forsake their Catholic faith or be exiled. Those who refused were forced to leave and herded onto ships without regard to family ties.
Upon Evangeline’s arrival in Louisiana, she learned that her beloved, Gabriel was in the Atakapa district. Soon she began her journey there and found that Gabriel had left the region in a grief-stricken state. The woman wandered through the American frontier to search for her lost love. She eventually gave up her search and joined the Sisters of Mercy in Philadelphia and dedicated her life to the service of others. Years passed before she found Gabriel on his deathbed. He died in her arms, and she died soon after.
Longfellow had heard the story of Evangeline and Gabriel from a Rev. Horace Lorenzo Connolly at a dinner party. Longfellow did not want his poem to be a documentation of historical events even though he consulted with Thomas C. Haliburton from the Historical and Statistical Account of Nova Scotia.
Other Versions
One of the first Louisiana writers to re-tell the tale was Sidonie de la Houssaye. She used the story in her 1888 novel, Pouponne et Balthazar. She details the story as a family legend handed down by her grandmother. In this story, Pouponne Theriot is separated from her fiancé Balthazar Landry during the deportation. Through the period of exile and resettlement, she cared for her fiancé’s elderly father and remained faithful to her betrothed. Balthazar attained the rank of Captain in the French army and returns with an education before the couple wed.
The best-known version of the Evangeline story is Acadian Reminiscences: The True Story of Evangeline, a novelette by Felix Voorhies who was a district judge and member of the Louisiana House of Representatives. Voorhies’ story, published in 1907, is about Emmeline Labiche and Louis Arceneaux, the “real” Evangeline, and Gabriel. According to this version, Emmeline and Louis tried to flee the village of St. Gabriel in old Acadia before the deportation but were caught by the British and were subsequently separated. Emmeline was exiled to Maryland before she arrived in Louisiana with a group of Acadians led by Rene LeBlanc, the former patriarch of St. Gabriel. According to Voorhies, Emmeline and Louis reunited beneath the oak tree by Bayou Teche in St. Martinsville. By that time, Louis was married to another. Emmeline lost her sanity. Heartbroken, she withered away and died.
The Truth Behind the Myth
This story came to be a thinly veiled historical account until the 20th century. Evangeline and Gabriel were widely accepted as fictional characters. Carl Brasseux, the assistant director of the Center for Louisiana Studies at the University of Southwestern Louisiana, released a book in 1988 to put this traditional tale to rest.
Rev. Jean-Marie James, a pastor at St. Martin de Tours Church in St. Martinsville said, “Longfellow wrote a beautiful poem, but poetry is not history. Evangeline could have existed, but there was nobody to write history except the pastor of the church who recorded baptisms, marriages, and funerals.”
Since history is defined as recorded past events, none of these stories can be authenticated. Even if Evangeline, or Emmeline Labiche, did not exist, there were plenty of folks who lived, suffered and died as she did. It is likely that the legend persevered because of its romantic appeal and its testimonial to the enduring spirit of Love.
The reason I’m relating this tale to you, guys, is: I hope the both of you will not become the likes of Evangeline and Gabriel; only to reunite on your deathbeds. Conciliate your past differences and get back together while you still have time to reconcile.
I will leave this rigmarole and say no more.
Yours,
David
PART THREE
Argentina - Buenos Aires
Saudi Arabia – Riyadh, Mada’in Saleh مدائن صالح
England - Isle of Wight, London
Brazil - Rio de Janeiro
A Puppet on Strings (Chapter Forty)
“The truest characters of ignorance are vanity, pride, and arrogance.”
Samuel Butler
Third Week of November 1968
The Plaza Hotel Buenos Aires, Argentina
Our arrival at the Plaza Hotel was nothing short of fanfare for the athlete and his entourage. The presence of Sheik Fahrib, one of Sharjah’s heir apparent added cloud to this historic establishment. Ernesto Tornquist, the local landowner, banker, and the creator of this monument spared no expense to welcome his distinguished guests. We were greeted by an assortment of well-known Latin American music, played by a big band as our motorcade drove up the hotel’s driveway. When the Himno Nacional Argentino (Argentine National Anthem) was performed in the elegant foyer, fashioned by Alfred Zucker (of New York Metropolitan Opera House fame), we stood at attention.
In 1968, the Plaza Hotel Buenos Aires was the most elegant and contemporary building in South America. All the rooms were centrally heated with telephone and elevators accessibility. The furniture was imported from Thompson & Co. and Warin & Gillow of London. Statues by Gustav Heinrich Eberlein stood to salute visitors as they entered the great hall. Last but not least, the Spanish artist Vila y Prades enticed guests, the likes of Edith Piaf, Luciano Pavarotti, Indira Gandhi, Charles de Gaulle, and Theodore Roosevelt into the building’s inner sanctum with his scrumptiously painted ceilings. This Grande Dame was then and still is one of the most luxurious accommodations this side of South America.
At La Biela Café
La Biela took his name from the Connecting Rod in the engine of a vehicle that transforms a swaying movement to make the car or train runs smoothly.
La Biela is also Buenos Aires historical café that began life more than a hundred and fifty years ago. Not only was the venue and decorations impressive, but it was also a place for the well-to-do for a social time-out.
It was in this institution, I circumvented my Master’s inamorato; the neurotic and arrogant Kalf. At La Biela, his haughtiness took on a life of its own and little did he suspect that his conceitedness would be his downfall.
In the event of a rainy day, Tad had given the lad a credit card for safe keeping. Instead, the Moroccan used the plastic as if it was free money. He bought everyone drinks at La Biela as
if he was a big spender while the athlete was in practice for his upcoming polo tournament.
Eberhardt remarked, “I wonder how long his superciliousness will last?”
My Valet negated, “We all want to be confident. It is a quality that helps us build strong relationships with others, get things done, and move forward in our work and life.”
My teacher countered, “It is well and good to have confidence, but if we let it go overboard, confidence can turn into something dark.”
“What is that something dark?” I questioned.
“Arrogance,” Curt replied. “Arrogant people never admit they make mistakes, and when they do, they try to deflect attention to others.”
Even though my Valet knew the answer, he parried, “And what do humble people do?”
My teacher declared, “They readily admit and accept their mistakes, apologize, and learn from them, but this is not Kalf’s way.”
I gazed at the Moroccan and quipped, “He should demonstrate accountability and be responsible for his actions; rather than to deny any wrongdoing and cast the blame on others but himself.”
“You are absolutely correct,” the educator commended.
“That fellow should communicate and behave respectfully, instead of flaunting his self-importance,” my chaperone remarked.
“He is the height of arrogance. He believes that he knows all the answers and doesn’t want to accept the input of others,” Eberhardt opined.