When the weather is high you

can stretch right up and touch the sky

when the weather is fine

you’ve got women

You’ve got women on the mind

Have a drink have a drive

Go out and see what you can find

Move along the lake

You’re turning twenty-five

We’re always happy

Lots of living in this sound philosophy

Sing along with us….

Nuremberg, Germany… a Saturday morning, Roger

and me loose in town for the weekend.

It’s party time!

We’re at the park, the sky is crystal blue, not a cloud on the continent today I think, and the pond, like a sheet of glass, with little paddle boats peddling back and forth, people milling, picnicking, playing Frisbee catch. Music is playing all around, a small band is at the south end of the pond, and the smell of grilling bratwurst, drifts through the air. It’s 1978 and I’m turning 25 like the song says, and life is good, life is good, and the grass is so fucking green.

We’re with a large group of friends, some German, mostly American, and the mood is relaxed and pre-partying, the air charged with excitement – for everyone to feel. I lean back on my arms, on the blanket that covers the grass, and think about nothing other than breathing the fresh air, and letting the world soak into me, as I accept the cold beer handed to me by Cindy.

I’ve known Cindy for 3 months and though we’ve had our times, it’s others we’ll be seeking today. She and Roger tried it out too, but arrived at the same answer we did. What is it I wondered to myself, that solves the mystery of where you’re going and what you’re looking for?

“What you thinking?”

Roger’s question darts through a thin cloud of hashe smoke, and gently pokes my sub-conscious, and as I look at him and see the thin line of sweat above his lip, the day old beard and his smile, I capture the moment to replay it over and over during my life. My best friend for three years now, ever since we’d met back in Huntsville, assigned by the luck of the draw to the same unit in Germany.

“How I’d like to meet the woman of my dreams today.”

Roger laughs, and takes a drink of his beer as he glances in the direction of Leah, his latest flame, and who I know he will be with when the sun disappears. It is a given, for when he’s on it, he’s on it, and for now Roger is on Leah.

As for me, I’m loose, free, and open to all possibilities, and feeling that feeling which has rarely been wrong in my life, the feeling that today will be special, today will be one to remember.

Looking around I marvel in the fact that just over 30 years ago this place was the center of Nazi Germany, and a man by the name of Hitler ruled supreme. Now, Hitler is gone and the scene is totally relaxed, peaceful, and quite beautiful. The Coliseum, not 200 feet from me, once held scores of Nazi Celebrations, burning torches and all that, now just a hazy artifact of a past nobody wants to remember.

Three females come from nowhere, interrupting our group, but known by some, and as introductions are passing around, I seize upon the girl named Sandra; dressed like a German, speaking fluent English, and sporting a set of Army Captain bars on the lapel of her blouse; the girlfriend of some Army Captain somewhere, but not here.

“DeWayne” she says, rolling it over, deliciously, as her eyes brighten, turning my own into small black pools, mysteries bouncing back and forth between us. Without a thought I offer her my beer, and she takes a long drink, handing it back while wiping her mouth. Nervousness tries to take hold of me, but I shove it back from where it comes, and light a cigarette to hide any leftover evidence, all the time watching her.

I realize that we’ve parted from the crowd, and that neither seems to care. In the middle of all the conversations, we hold a séance for two, everyone else removed. I barely notice as Roger, recognizing the signs gets up and moves over to some other people who are smoking hashe.

“Where you’re from,” the most asked question in this city I’d bet, comes from Sandra, her voice rich, velvety, and smooth, and as my mind clicks around to the perfect response, the one she wants, I let my eyes wander over her body; long brown, almost reddish hair lies lightly on her shoulders, her face - makeup free but radiant and alive, smiles as I whisk by, down the long slender neck unadorned with anything shiny or metal, to her perfectly balanced shoulders that harbor breasts, full and jutting upward, even through the blouse pinned with Captain’s Bars. I barely question them as I move lower to her waist where tan shorts cover the part of a woman I call heaven, and admire legs meant to be shown, along to bare feet, pink toenails, and something embossed in the middle of each one, something pink. “The Hills of Oklahoma,” I say, as she strokes my bare arm and says, “I knew that wasn’t all tan.”

We are up and walking away from the group, hand in hand, the sun warming my face as I slide my sunglasses on, and look to my right - into the eyes of what I’ve been looking for.