FINDING KISS's GENE SIMMONS!
Ever since I got sick, life has been hard for us. Our focus shifted solely on one purpose; to spend as much time with family as possible. Three years ago, I was diagnosed with a rare, congenital heart disease.
Randy and I had been together since Junior High School.
It would be our 32nd wedding anniversary this year.
As he was a die-hard KISS fan ever since we met, our marriage had been peppered with KISS.
Year one: Married at 18, we settled in a small, studio apartment.
As a new wife and home-maker, I was 'nesting', trying to create a homey apartment. Randy wanted his own brand of homey with a poster of Gene Simmons, full make-up, his face and infamous tongue dripping with 'blood'. I replied, "Sweetheart, do you think that... really...boss, but... um... large KISS poster will go with our new... uh decor?"
Back in those days - the salad days they called them - we'd go to KISS concerts anytime they were remotely near; Indiana, Kentucky, Ohio. Two $15.00 tickets and ol' White Lightning and we were on our way!
White Lightning was my name for her. A beautiful piece of art, 1965, candy apple red, Ford Mustang convertible in mint condition - was what I wanted. What I got was a ragged out, white-ish, bald-tired, wreck of a 1968 Mustang. I bought her for $300.00 from a guy named Slim Jim by working as a roller skating waitress at our hometown's drive-in restaurant. I got paid $1.25 an hour to hang metal trays of food and root beer on their half rolled down window, but the tips were good. And ya' know, like Bruce Springsteen says, "You ain't a beauty but 'eh you're alright. And that's alright with me."
And it was alright with me! I loved that ragged out car. I'd go so far as to say I was proud of her. She may not have been much to look at, but her motor purred.
Year 6: Our first home with our first baby on the way!
There were so many exciting, scarey, wonderful changes. Mostly to my body and more scarey to Randy. But he had his KISS hobbies to occupy him. He played the bass guitar just like his hero Gene Simmons.
We had to retire White Lightning. We knew she was on her way out when she shook, rattled and rolled at the speed of 25 mph. We'd fashioned a bungie cord from the door to the seat to keep it closed. It was time for a sensible family car. Ol' White Lightning was sold for parts.
The Destroyer! Randy's model of Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley, Ace Frehley, Peter Criss formed, 12 inches tall. "Hun! We've gotta baby on the way. You're going to scare her to death!" After I choked down a prenatal vitamin I sputtered, "Nicely done though, babe!"
Year 20: We'd hit our stride. I began to get sick, but in between doctor visits, I'd managed to carve out a decent career. Our daughter hit her teenage years like a brick wall and Randy was doing great at the local paper mill. So we were 'movin' on up' as the famous t.v. show goes.
We secured a three bedroom house in the best part of the city's suburb. We were livin' large. Randy had a black Jeep Cherokee and I had a Ford ZX2. White Lightning was a bittersweet memory.
Randy came home one day with four shadow box frames with an image of each KISS member. Our daughter, Ashley of course had the second bedroom. I imagined he was going to try to use the third bedroom for his KISS "toys" as I improperly called them. Putting away the last of the dishes, he came to me with an astonished look on his face. "Wha... where..." he was speechless, holding a hammer in one hand and the Gene Simmons shadow box in the other. "I assume you're wondering about the extra bedroom," I said, trying to help him out. He shook his head. "Ashley has been working on that all week, sweetheart," I said feeling his mood with a sincere sad inflexion. "Aw... honey, a t.v. room for her and her friends? You know how hard it's been for her. You even told her she could. Don't you remember?" He put his hands to his head, slowly shaking it back and forth, still holding the frame and the hammer, defeated yet again.
Year 30: Our daughter had graduated college with honors! But the paper mill closed down. Randy took a job at a hardware store. My illness had gotten worse, with no diagnosis. I was forced to file disability. We sold our house and moved to a smaller one. Everything was on one floor, which helped. But it did have a basement that was just right for a 'Man Cave' someday for my deserving, sweet husband.
We had to sell our cars and get a beater; one to take him back and forth to work and for him to take off work to take me to my doctor appointments. I was sick most everyday. I spent most days in my pajamas, in bed. My hair falling out. Dark circles under my eyes. Not the vibrant red head that burned up the highways headed to concerts. Randy was burdened with everything.
And then we got the call. I had a rare, congenital heart defect. Surgery was recommended. We scheduled the surgery.
Then a strange thing happened. Almost comic thing. No, a LITERAL comic thing happened. Comic-Con was going to be in Cleveland, Ohio the weekend before the Monday we had to be at the Cleveland Clinic. Randy read this to me. Without looking up, I said "Yeah... so?" Randy liked his Marvel Comics, but not enough to attend Comic-Con. "He's going to be there!" he said setting his iPad down. Its glow accentuated the sheer brightess of his smile. I looked over to his iPad and saw the living legend himself. Gene Simmons was going to be signing autographs at Comic-Con.
I looked at Randy. He'd been to so many concerts. He had posters, t-shirts, KISS guitars, models, autographed memorabilia, statues, McFarland figurines - the list goes on. He deserved this. No he NEEDED this.
Running for Gene: It was a six hour drive to Cleveland. We entered Comic-Con exhausted and looking at a line that snaked around the center to the entrance. I was embarrased to bring him but knew he was necessary; Texas is what I named my walker. It did have wheels and if you had to, there was a seat on it. Texas, Randy and I inched our way to the front after 2 hours. We grabbed our wrist bands and searched for Gene. We finally found him answering the last question of the day with about 300 people surrounding him. "And thank you for your room card!" His baritone voice micheviously was heard and I spotted a tall, black haired figure with a black shirt, black jacket and sunglasses fawning over a buxom brunette. "Thank you. That will be all!" said a voice.
'What?' my heart raced. I looked for Randy. We had been separated. My eyes darted back to the black fuzzy hair over the crowd. Gene was on the move.
'NO! No way' I said to myself. It's been THIRTY TWO YEARS of that man being in our lives. Discussions and fights over his products. Years of going to concerts with ticket prices sky rocketing. But it wasn't the money or the things. It was Randy. How much admiration he had for him. How much energy and heart he put into everything KISS. Everything Gene.
Just then my body kicked in to high gear. I was a woman possessed. This man was NOT going to short change my husband. And with my failing, bursting heart, I followed the man with the bouncing black hair. The group that followed after him tapered slowly behind as he and his security walked faster. Running! I was running! It was like ol' White Lightning's spirit was urging me on! My resolve growing strong with each squeek of my wheel, with each beat of my heart. No one but me was following him after what had to be an incredible ten minute journey. I was not behind him. But adjacent to him ever closing in! I was almost there! Sweat beaded off my brow! I saw him and his security headed for a cold steel door! I couldn't let him get away without meeting Randy! I couldn't. Not after all these years! We were 50! When would we ever get another attempt?
But I was one step behind. The door was opened for him and just like that - he was gone.
I slowed to a halt, unable to catch my breath. My rolling walker bumping continued to roll like an errant shopping cart. It was over. I'd failed.
Randy caught up with me. He too out of breath, camera in hand. But he wasn't disappointed. All he could think about was me.
"Where did you go? Why did you separate from me?" Catching his breath, "Are you okay?"
I took Texas and rolled him down the hallway, turned him around and sat on the seat, my back toward the door.
"I'm sorry, babe," I said starting to tear up.
"It's okay." Randy bent down and cupped my face with his hands. "As long as we're together. That's all that matters." He kissed me tenderly on my sweaty forehead. At that moment I truly knew I had the best husband in the world. I looked up. Randy had straightened up and backed away. "Honey, I know I'm sweaty, but you've been through a lot worse with me," I joked. His eyes were wide open looking above me, behind me. Then I felt someone from behind me take off my glasses and hang them on my shirt. I looked behind, above me. It was Gene Simmons! He took off his sunglasses and put them on me. I started to laugh he posed for Randy's ready camera.
"YOU!" I said almost angrily. "You have been in our marriage for 32 years!" There was a pause. A silence for 10 seconds. Then he started laughing. I started laughing. So did Randy. Gene leaned on a nearby table and talked to us."32 years!" he exclaimed. "Tell me. What's the secret to a healthy marriage?" His security man close by was the only difference than having a chat with an old friend. And he was somewhat of an old friend. Seeing him in concert since we were in junior high school.
Randy got to meet Gene Simmons. Better than that, he got to 'hang' with Gene Simmons. Sheer joy was on Randy's face. I was so happy for him! And me? My heart was and always will be in good hands. 
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See video of Gene on Instagram lolo8567![20170422_165140.jpg]()
This is a fairly good true story... with pics even! Can I re-steem my own story? Maybe change the keywords?