Brian, Cynthia, Sun, and Sylvie 1987My family all grown up!
“She gave me all her numbers, gave me all her names”.
Too Good To Be True
At the age of 37, I was married to Brian, (who was born December 21, 1945, 3 days before Lemmy.) He is, in some ways, similar to Lemmy. I had 2 children, Sun, 10 years old, and Sylvie, 2 years old. We had an interesting life during these years, though not altogether easy. Those years are best left to another story. Brian is a Vietnam veteran with a PTSD disability, so we had very little money at that time, but it was mostly OK for me and I enjoyed raising my children.
In 1973, before Brian, Sun, and Sylvie were a part of my life, I went back to London for a visit, and hoped to find Lemmy, with little expectation of that being possible, or any idea how to go about it, so it was to no avail.
Somewhere around 1982-84, I was hardly old, early thirties, but suddenly came to the realization that I was getting older. I felt sad, feeling that Lemmy and my youth were fading away into the past. I decided to write to the recording company that recorded “Escalator” to see if I could find Lemmy and I told Brian that I needed to try to find Lemmy. I’m sure he was didn’t like it, but he said nothing in response.
The letter came back labeled “return to sender, address unknown” because the company had folded. I knew of no other avenues I could take to find him. I knew nothing of Hawkwind or Motorhead. For all I knew Lemmy was back in Wales raising horses as he’d told me this was something he’d likely do if he was not a musician.
Now, in 1988, with Brian, I had been busy raising children, homeschooling. It’s amazing to me that I hadn’t heard about Motorhead or Lemmy sooner than this, but there you are. Don’t laugh, but I was listening to Rod Stewart almost all the time.
It was early December. Brian, the kids and I had just gone to Haymarket Cafe’ in Northampton for morning coffee, our daily ritual. Carrying Sylvie in my arms as we walked down Main Street, out of the corner of my eye, as we passed Main Street Records, I saw “Motorhead” in the window. I did a double take, only glancing momentarily at the silhouettes on the Ace of Spades album cover. (“Who the hell are these three Mexican’s and how do they play so fast?!?” Scott Ian).
The only time I’d ever heard the word “motorhead” was when Lemmy excitedly told me Leo had called him “motorhead” back in 1968 in Earls Court Station. I kept it to myself for the moment and walked on home with my family. Somehow I knew it was related to Lemmy. Recalling it as I write now, I again feel the nervous anticipation I felt in the pit of my stomach that afternoon after seeing those albums in the window.
As soon as the kids were settled, Sylvie napping and Sun reading, I told Brian I had run up to State Street Market for some things for dinner. He was rather controlling, jealous and suspicious, you see. I didn’t want to let on at this point, because it would be an issue whether I ever actually contacted Lemmy or not. I went up to town, and after staring at the album covers in the window, I thought “that could be Lemmy… those look like his legs”. I reminisced about him standing in front of the mirror in his new trousers while I admired his legs! I went inside and looked for Motorhead albums. I’ll never forget that moment when I picked up an album and slowly turned it over and saw the circular photo of Lemmy on the back. I gasped, realizing it really was him. Maybe now I’d actually be able to find him…
Holding the album in my hand, I went up to the counter. “Do you know anything about this band?” I asked the salesgirl.
“Oh, she said, they’re kind of a heavy metal band. Their best known song is “Ace of Spades”. They’re playing at the Hartford Civic Center tonight”.
Oh my God…Lemmy was less than an hour away from me.
I left the store and slowly walked down the street, thoughts spinning in my head. It wasn’t possible for me to go with my first instinct, to jump in the car and drive down there. We had no car, I had no money, I had nothing to wear, I had children to care for. Sun was fairly independent at the age of 10, but Sylvie was with me all the time other than when playing with her friends in the park, with the collective of mothers taking turns watching them. Even Brian didn’t spend much time alone with the kids.
As I walked towards home wondering what to do I passed by a couple of punk kids sitting on the curb. Both of them wearing black, boots, and leather jackets studded and spiked. They both had long hair, and one of them had a brimmed hat circled with red and white dingleberry trim. (an odd choice!). I didn’t hear what they were saying, but “Lemmy” stood out in the midst of the conversation. This was the first time I’d ever heard anyone say his name other than when I spoke of him to my friends or family. I could hardly believe it. It seemed so strange, just moments after finding the album to hear someone speak his name. I was in a daze, my head spinning. It was as if some magical portal had been opened and after being invisible to me for all these years I could now see him.
As I walked home I made a decision. I would call the Hartford Civic Center as soon as I got home and try to connect with Lemmy while he was there. Brian already knew about Lemmy (everyone I knew did). I knew he wouldn’t like it, but I had to do this.
I spoke with a woman who worked in the office. My conversation with her went something like this: “Hi, I just found out this afternoon that my first love, when I was 16, is playing there tonight with Motorhead. I haven’t seen him in twenty years. Would you please get a message to him?” She was very sweet, and understanding about how I was feeling, said she would be happy to.
“Oh thank you so much!” I said. “My name was Cynthia Palczynski back then, and his name was Lemmy Willis. My name is Cynthia Jensen now, and his name is Lemmy Kilmister now. Here’s my phone number… please ask him to call.”
I gave her my number, thanked her sincerely and hung up. I took a deep breath. Would he call? Would he remember me? What will I say?
Actually, I knew what I wanted to say. I wanted to thank him for respecting my innocence. He was 22 when I met him and I was only 16, a big difference in age in the teen years, and he had been a gentleman, always. I think I might have done whatever he wanted, I was so crazy about him, but he was neither aggressive or even assertive. I think Lemmy took my inexperience for apprehension so my experience with him remained sensual rather than sexual, as reflected in his song Grass, on Escalator:
“Rings of uncertainty carry you from me, or does your minds eye shed lonely tears?”
