Sheilaclapkin's Blog;

I tried to find Bernie’s Bio on Google, but he seems to have disappeared, at least the Bernie Shore I used to know sixty years ago. He became a doctor, one well renowned. He was honest, forthright and slightly Napoleonic.

He was no one I should remember for anything other that what I am going to tell you. I double dated with Bernie, his older brother, the doctor and Anne Francis, a starlet. I was cute, really cute, great budding body, but no match in age, physicality and or in sophistication for this group. I was barely sixteen. I do remember several great one-liners added to my score, but Anne’s deep and slightly graveled voice beat me into a corner. Who can remember what was ordered and or what was eaten. Who can remember even tidbits of the conversation that night. It is not important to the story.

Bernie and I had several dates after the first double date and each thought the other a nice person. I lived in the inner city and he being a Beverly Hills Boy found the distance unmanageable. We parted ways for many, many life changing years.

As the world turns, I came in contact with Bernie about twelve serious years later. He had matured. I had just completed the task of beginning to raise our five children, gained baby mama weight, wore little face saving paint and struggled to get out of the house and home let alone look like I used to look.

Bernie and I stood face to face at an event. I said, “Are you Bernie Shore?” He said, “Yes.” I said, “My goodness, hello, I am Sheila.”

He said, “Oh my God what the hell happened to you?. You used to be so cute?” Crushed to the matt, I said,” I have been busy, you shit head.”

If you are still kicking Bernie, I do hope you are well. But I also hope you are fat and ugly. Toothless. I hope you waddle. I hope you shrunk. I hope you have hopeless amounts of unwanted hair in your nose and ears. I hope you stink. Oh, I do hope so…