Free At Last
The next time I saw Lemmy, of course, I told him that my marriage had essentially ended. We talked about the effects of the Vietnam War. For the first time I told Lemmy how bad my marital relationship had become.
“Poor bastard” he responded, shaking his bowed head. Obviously, Lemmy identified with warriors, as evidenced in his ballad “1916”, a lament of a soldier at the Battle of Somme, the deadliest battle in the British Empires’ history. Certainly, in a past life he had been a soldier in World War II. I’ve often contemplated whether he would have been German or English in that war, since he had such an affinity for the Nazi aesthetic. Concerned about this, I asked him once, early on, what it was about. Was he anti-semitic? He said he had no Nazi sympathy but only appreciated their style.
He picked up a pen and paper and started writing, and then handed the paper to me. It said:
“Tiny termite found some wood,
He tasted it, he found it good,
And that is why your Auntie May,
Fell through the parlor floor today”
Ever so sweetly, he was trying to cheer me up! So he did have some empathy for the effects the war had on my life.
We talked more intimately and quite lovingly for a time.
“We are so different he said. “You are calm and at peace, like Chopin, while I’m fiery, passionate, turbulent, like Tchaikovsky, he said while waving his hands in the air to illustrate. It was a beautiful moment of him reflecting on who I was in relation to him and how different we were, how different our lives were. I always knew we were too different to ever think our relationship could be anything other than it already was, still, I often hoped that by sone miracle we could be more.
It was rare for Lemmy to divulge much of anything about himself especially about his feelings. I was always careful to not ask many questions in order to respect his need to protect himself emotionally, but that conversation was a warm and soothing response to my now being on my own after nearly 20 years.
“You love showing that picture to people, don’t you?” “Of course I do!”
Being a seamstress I offered my services whenever I saw the band. I sewed patches on Lemmy’s coats, smiling to myself when he said ”Be careful not to sew through the packet of meth in the cuff lining!” You know, for all the Jack Daniels and methamphetamine Lemmy was known to use, he never appeared to be drunk or high in any way. Likewise, there is a well known quote of his when asked if he ever got hangovers. He responded “To get hangovers you have to stop drinking.”
I really wanted to make things for Lemmy so I measured him, and next time I saw him I gave him a linen vest I’d made. I used little buttons with the nickel Indian head on them, knowing he liked all things western. He loved it, in spite of the fact that linen wrinkles so easily. He asked me to make a vest with buttons going down both sides in a more maintenance free fabric, and that I did. But the biggest hit was a black western shirt which I’d embroidered the iron cross in a white circle surrounding the iron cross, painstakingly onto the shoulders and back. I sent it to him, so I didn’t see him open the box, but Phil said he was thrilled with it, and very excitedly, pulled it out of the box and immediately put it on. Of course I’d used a stay-press fabric that wouldn’t run because of the white circle, but someone washed it with black clothes and ruined it. But there are some great photos of him wearing the shirt that I love!
Another big hit was the psychedelic glasses just like the ones he had in 1968. It took thirty-five years, but I found the exact same crystals as Lemmy’s original glasses. I found the crystals in Dublin, in a shop on Batchelors’ Walk on the River Liffey. I got some copper wiring, and struggled to fashion the frames around the crystals, somewhat successfully, although a little crudely.
The next time I went to see Motorhead, I presented them as a gift to Lemmy. I had told Phil and Mickey about the glasses and they were watching with me as Lem opened the box. When he saw them, he literally lit up with a childlike delight, and completely surprised, as if they were the original glasses, long lost and returned again. I was beyond joyful myself, having made him so happy. Luckily I bought extra crystals for myself and years I later found a talented jewelry maker sitting on the sidewalk in Northampton working with copper wiring and asked him to make some glasses for me. His were much more expertly made than the ones I’d made! Speaking of beautifully made items, Sylvie got a Motorhead ring for me that is gorgeous made by a Polish jeweler.
