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Most of you live normal, uncomplicated lives. I used to until I met a young lady in 1977;
Linda Harnist from Lizella, Georgia. That's the name, or rather, maiden name, of the young
lady I knew very briefly in 1977. If she is now happily married then I'm glad, after all, I
haven't seen her in over 32 years and I do care, a great deal, about her happiness. So
much so, in fact, that I just spent over four months trying to contact her to apologize
for the worst thing I ever did to anyone in my life; I slapped her and walked away. It
was complicated, the reasons why, and I have felt terrible about it ever since.
I would also benefit from apologizing to her now but it's knowing that I hurt HER that
won't leave me alone. I tried, for decades, to let it go and move on but it's not easy. If
any of you who know her can please talk her into calling me, well, her family won't, and
she is likely too proud to admit that I hurt her.
What I did has left me in shambles and I need her help if I am ever going to get over it.
I should have done this three decades ago.
As foolish as this personal entry seems, this is a matter of the heart that I know I need to
deal with. It's not like her family is giving me any other options.
Many men know of the ordeal of falling in love with someone who has been victimized by
**** or ****** but not also ***** ******* and ********* ******* and ******* **********.
I may have been dealt just such a card with her but she was a liar, too, so who knows
just what I really went through. It was extraordinary.
I probably have been traumatized by falling in love with her and having to live with my-
self for hurting her and not being allowed to apologize after, ever, in all this time.
That she vented her pain with hurtful words to me has left a deep scar, too.
I recently spoke to her brother, Kenny, last February, and he claims that she doesn't want to
see me. She wants to forget the past. I'm convinced that she would appreciate my apology if
she could trust that that is all I am after. I'd probably like to marry her if she were single and
actually loved me but now that I have reason to believe that she is married I am still
left with the need to apologize so that we can move on with a better goodbye than the one we
gave each other, then. That goodbye was not fit for anyone. It was cruel and wrong and
I know that she is still hurt by it. Me too.
There is every reason in the world for me to run away from her, including the obvious ones
already mentioned. In spite of her problems she did have some rare qualities and, it's
true, she is the only woman I've ever even thought about marrying, ever.
So, here we all are; me with a need to apologize; her with a fear of dredging up her past; and
all of you readers having a messenger who still needs to get this resolved before I am any
good for the rest of you.
Her brother asked me; "What do you want?!" I told him; "I need to apologize to her."
They won't budge. I am hoping that you readers out there who may know her can talk her
into calling me.
I did try, vigorously, to apologize to her when it happened. What I got was arrested for
it. Her family, or she, herself, filed a false police report alleging that I kidnapped her
at knifepoint and she then made her escape and I was last seen driving on some road. It
was a complete fabrication, I never saw her at all, and I would never do such a thing, ever.
All of it is false. It never, ever happened. I was released ten days later and I made the
mistake of staying away from her and her secretive family all this time. I did learn her real
name, then, but that is the only good that came out their stunt. When we lived together
I knew her as Danielle Phillips.
Her real name was Linda Harnist but now she is, allegedly, married to someone and living in
Texas. She may be 52 years old by now. She is the pretty, five foot tall, blue eyed, medium
blond with irresistible good looks. She has a truckload of charm and personality and she
is very intelligent and spirited, too. If you know her please tell her I need to tell her that
I am sorry and that, if she is married, then I'm very proud of and happy for her,
really, I am. I really do need to apologize to her, personally, if she will call me.
She is one of eight children raised in Lizella in the late 70's and may have been raised,
origionally, in Ohio. She is a mix of German and Italian, born, perhaps, in mid February.
Linda,
This is a new, distilled, briefer message to be current and lend new perspectives.
For over a year now, now being July 28, I have been preoccupied with the notion of being
able to see you one more time, at least, to patch up our bitter goodbye, a goodbye that
was anything but, 'good' or 'bye'.
I can't find peace until I can personally apologize to you and hold you and tell you how
sorry I am and have been all this time for slapping you that evening and walking away.
It was cowardly and cruel and wrong and small and I've been quite the mess over it all
this time.
That you refused to give me a shred of a chance to apologize after, in all this time, has
really taken its toll on me. It's the improperly healed wound of my life and I'd like your
help, now, in fixing this hurt, please.
I think I have a right to know some things about you so I can understand what happened.
When I dared to recall the magical memory of you I got sucked into the center of all the
reasons I fell in love with you and every irreplaceable quality you ever showed me. It was
enough to reassure me that I would probably marry you if I ever got the chance to. I realize
that may not be an option with us and I am willing to respect your relationship s and the
rest of your life but I need to see you again.
Pardon my mush as I gushed, perhaps, too much over the internet in my efforts to get past
your secretive siblings and their efforts to frustrate me from contacting you.
Now the whole media knows our secrets and I am no happier about it than you are.
I'll try to learn from the experience and conduct myself more privately from now on.
Now I know how you must have felt when I walked away and left you in that lot. I had no
idea, at the time, what I had done.
I just have to see you again and mend up as much as we can for both our sakes, I think.
I will do anything you ask of me if you will see me and let me let you know just how much
I regret what I did, then. I need some answers to some questions, also, but not much else.
I am willing to let you and your life be if you will see me and mend these fences. I am
not willing to never see you again. In fact, now that I've opened up that can of worms and
my scars have shown themselves, I am determined to get to the bottom of this debacle
as soon as I can even if that means going through the people of central Georgia to get
the answers I need.
It's you that stands wanting now that I have made the gesture of reconciliation. It's not
fair to leave me in the dark about what I went through with you. It's your option, now.
The question is do you and your family want me to have to go that route or keep it in house?
Meanwhile, how have you been? I hear you have two boys from your first marriage.
I hear your new guy is good to you. I can't believe anything your family tells me, you know.
Preface;
Regarding Lori's e-mail; If, indeed, she spoke with you recently about me then I am pleased
at your positive slant and I sense a hint of vulnerability and sentimentality in you, too.
As you already know, I tried to forget about you these past three decades. The first year
was very tough;
I stayed away but it took several years of trying to get over you. I never really have
gotten over you. You're one in ten million.
When I drove through Macon, last June, I got a strange feeling that we had some very un-
finished business between us and I should see you. I tried, a little, but drove on to a
job in Wisconsin where I worked with a guy from central Georgia who swore that he knew
you. He said you were single and living with your folks in Macon and I believed him.
When the thought of you came up it occured to me that there was nobody on earth that I
had more to say to than you. At first I thought you might be too old or overweight and
all those things and I was reluctant to reopen a dialogue with you, again. Then I thought
about just what a wonderful woman you are and I decided to cancel my New York swing and
see you. I absolutely do need to tell you I'm sorry and that I know I was wrong.
If I'm too late for anything more, I'm too late.
My history with Harnists is such that I will have to wait until I hear your voice before I
am convinced that you are married or even aware I am trying to apologize. Call me. Find
your courage. Do you have my number? It's an easy matter to settle rather than have me
vent here for therapy. It's pretty easy to block caller I.D.; *67, I think. Whatever you have to
say I can handle.
This is more about healing the hurt between us than whether you are married or not.
This is my only way to reach you, for now, until I hear from you.
I do not enjoy exposing my private life like this any more than you, believe me.
What I did was supposed to make you hate me, then, but whatever you may feel about
me, since, I wish you'd re-evaluate. As it turns out I didn't mean that, never, ever, and I
want to fix things between us, very badly, now.
Even if you're situated with someone else I still need to make things right with you.
I am not that awful guy who slapped you. I did that to get you over "Us". I only succeeded
too well and I need to apologize to you, now, for that, for my sake, if not yours, too.
(Much of the following may sound jumbled and disjointed. In fact, I have deleted most of
what I already wrote - this immersion therapy is actually working - and I have left only the
essential thoughts up, for now.)
Linda;
What I have to say to you is too personal to share with the world, here. Still, I must just say
a few things; I'm more sorry than words can say for what I did. I have suffered far more
than you can imagine over that. It was the biggest mistake of my life and I am not over it at all.
That I ever hurt you or caused you pain or sorrow has bothered me all this time.
It's actually both our fault that I didn't reach out sooner.
We were both at strained crossroads, then, and I think you're being foolish to judge the
potential we have based on those days.
I had my own problems before we met and I'm not blaming only you.
As for you, I think that you should have never lied to me and should have given me a fair
chance with you. Playing with me like you did wasn't necessary. We could have worked.
But in those days, let's face it, we were both young and stupid.
I can't blame you for taking off for a while. I was pretty standoffish and confused. Beyond that
my own upbringing was also a factor. It seems we were both damaged on arrival. With you I
felt we could both heal each other and start from scratch and wind up with something special.
Beyond even that I found, in you, someone worth falling madly in love with. You were great.
While you were gone for a few weeks you decided that your past was more than I could
cope with. You even said as much. You were too insecure to trust me with your baggage.
Suddenly you started to tell me the very important truths about you, the ones that could stitch
us together, stuff that had me jumping down the well of your heart for the first time, and
then you clammed up with;"..But you'd never accept or understand.."
Consequently you never let me in your life when we met up again. You acted mean and you may
have only come back just to say goodbye. You flaunted your independence and I reacted, the
next day, by starting our first, ever, fight. I was mostly mad at your lack of faith in me.
When I said those words; "I feel sorry for you." and left you crying in the parking lot I was
the bad guy. Don't I know it, now.
When I came by a few nights later it was because I felt you were in serious trouble and you
needed me. You were very troubled, indeed. You were on a rampage and out of control and the
next thing I knew I had slapped you, hard, and just walked away. I felt, if it was over, I was
not about to let you fret over us and possibly cut yourself over it like you, apparently,
already did over someone else before me. That's why I walked away, to get you over me.
It was the worst thing I've ever done in my life. It was the wrong thing to do and I am sorry for it.
I want nothing more than to be able to hold you tight and tell you, over and over, how
much I love you and to call you sweetheart, over and over and over and heal that up.
If you're married I sound like a fool but that's how I feel, no matter what. You are the only woman
I ever hit in my life and I only knew you for a few weeks. I'll never hit you again. That's a promise.
I remember every quality you ever showed me about yourself . You are different.
You have left your mark on me and your last words to me over the phone have left a scar
that only you can heal. You must have really loved me to be so hurt that you would ever say
that. I love you, too, sweetheart. The thought of ever having your love back is beyond words.
It would be so nice to patch up what's wrong between us. I know I need it. I remember
almost everything you ever said and I know some of what you must think about me. You are
stubborn and wrong. I was a brain synapse away from not slapping you and things got out
of control for the worst one second of my life. It was a once in my life mistake.
I did, at the last moment, take 20% off and cradled your soft cheek in my palm. When your
pretty face left my hand I knew that I had just ruined my life. These past decades of sor-
row and regret only I know the extent of.
Mid April;
It's the anniversary -mid April- of when we met. I had just returned from The Masters golf event
and started a new job when your curious head started checking me out while I was washing
the equipment wearing rubber gloves. I'll save the reminiscing for later, but I am very careful,
now, before I go too headlong into that soup. It's a great memory and I want to make
sure we repair our hurt feelings, first.
I wonder just how embarrassing it must be to admit that you lied about your name and every-
thing else? I'm sure you had your reasons and I won't sit in judgement over it.
I remember the night you looked up at me in your bare feet on our balcony, the moon drench-
ing your face and eyes and the way you made me feel, then. Pure magic. Thank you for the
beautiful memories and for just knowing that someone as special as you is even in this world.
You knew how to turn on the charm, perhaps to compensate for your other issues, but it
sure worked on me.
You know, I've only had two dreams about you in all this time that I can remember; The
first was just days before I made my initial discovery in July of 1982; We had met atop a fence
and walked up to each other. We bowed our heads, held hands and reconciled everything. It
was so powerful I found myself bolt upright from my sleep, sweating and joyful at the memory
of you and how wonderful you made me feel. I already felt that the government killed Len-
non but you reminded me what I had to do. You would have busted that cult, no hesitation.
Just days later I found myself, like a torpedo, heading for the library and history. It was your
courage and jest for life that inspired my heroism, then, and you should know that.
The only other dream of you was just last November; I was at a party. I was talking to
some ladies when you just walked right up to me and stood before me. Because the light was
behind you I could only see your silhouette. One girl said; "Hi, Danie." It was you, alright. I
awoke, enthralled. It was like an omen that you might come back into my life, again.
My life would be changed for the better if you would see me again. Do you really want to
keep hurting me?
I paid my dues and spent 10 days in the Macon County Jail, even avoiding serious stuff there.
That scared me off of you all this time. It hurt a lot to know that you would do that to me.
I know that you couldn't understand how I could do what I did. I can't believe it either.
I do remember feeling as though you were suddenly throwing my heart onto the asphalt.
Yes, I was afraid of what you might do to yourself after our breakup, that was my main con-
cern, but, also, I was in so much pain at that moment that I did what I did to get me
over you, too. I didn't think I could ever go through that kind of pain, not even one
more time, with you. I made it hard for me to get back with you even if I wanted to. I
didn't have time to think. It just happened. I wish I could take it all back. I didn't mean
it. My mind was a blur of emotion and I was caught in a moment of weakness. I remember
the song lyrics; "..You always hurt the one you love..." running through my mind as I walked
away in horror and shame and immense pain. I was actually saddened, later, when you
didn't call the police on me. I felt very alone.
Reliving our affair has been so real and vivid - like being right there - that I couldn't believe
that I couldn't just poke through the membrane of that memory and change things.
When you called and asked me to pick you up in Macon, I dumped frozen, uncooked french
fries under the heat lamp, right after. I knew, then, that I still had a lot of regrets about
your leaving, after all. That you called me to be with me, again, changed things considerably.
You wanted me more than I thought and vice versa. Maybe you were sincere, after all.
Some of the things you said just got to me over the years.
Your last call to me, out of the blue, and after I had moved to North Carolina, and the fact
that you went through some trouble to even find my number, let me know, in spite of what you
actually said, that you had a huge regret about our breakup and that you were very hurt.
Either that or you were just a very hurt and miserable and mean person. I would hope not, though.
It was like your ultimate, insecure cry for help.
Nothing I could learn about you, and I know a lot, would surprise me or discourage me.
Probably encourage me, in fact.
In case you don't know, it's been very hard getting over our experience. It's not normal
to have you still lingering in my mind afer all this time. Something is unattended. Even
if you have your man and are happy I don't think I can ever really be happy, myself, and move
on until we mend our fences. The way we said goodbye - two wrongs - doesn't make things
right.
Talk about unresolved issues, feelings and apologies needed between two people. It's us.
I'm a broken man until you meet up with me and let me mend up all that went wrong then.
Just a year ago, when I traveled through Macon I, inexplicably, forgot your last name, get-
ting it mixed up with the street you lived on. Since I took that wrenching trip down memory
lane I found you still mean a great deal to me, after all. A serious, great deal. You might
think I'm old news, now. I thought the same about you, though, just a year ago.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring? I'm asking, now, for just a chance to see you and fix
up some of the hurt we left behind. I saw your folks after they had me wrongfully jailed and
I was very respectful and polite. I don't know what you could be afraid of, now.
The two of us seeing each other again, sometime soon. Please give it some thought.
I think of the time I still had my chance with you, when we were shopping at the supermarket
You were acting defensive and testy and insecure and I should have allowed for that and
valued what you were offering me; a second chance.
It bothers me very much that I ever hit you or hurt you or failed to understand you.
If you would let me see you again and apologize, properly, to you I would be able to let go
and do anything you ask. Until then I'm a mess that only you can clean up.
I remember every time I made you cry; The time I questioned your 'stories' in front of our
fellow employees. Your tears flew from your eyes away from your face, like a sprinkler.
You seemed exasperated.
The time I left you in the supermarket parking lot you were like Niagra Falls. You bawled
like a toddler, unbridled and all out.
Our last meeting in Macon you went waterworks all over, again, and I knew how much I had
hurt you. That hurt me a lot, in case you don't know.
Then there were the times I didn't see you cry over me; maybe in the parking lot where I
slapped you and walked away and the many times you may have cried privately, by yourself.
These are the times that won't let me go, Linda. When you cried it touched me deep
inside and I have to comfort you for my own peace of mind if not yours.
I'd rather just speak with you rather than get central Georgia caught up in a buzz of
gossip and intrigue.
When I slapped you, yes, there was imbued in it a message to stay away from me and never
come back. Underneath it, also, was my fear of taking you back unless I drove you away.
You seemed to read it very well, too well. I regreted it immediately but, the damage
already done, I didn't want it to be for nothing. It hurt me a lot to just walk away. It was
all insecurity, on my part, and I felt the opposite way about you. Please don't think I ever
meant it or ever felt that way about you. It wasn't me, at all. If I never saw your wrists
or worried about you after it would never have happened to begin with. I had a split second
to decide and made the wrong decision. I need to to unhurt you if you will let me.
Do you know that, in all this time, I have never, not once, looked upon you in anything but
a loving light? I never once rejoiced at our breakup or anything I did. I only loved you,
unconditionally, through it all. I always knew that it was I who was wrong and that you
could not be blamed for anything. I have always cherished the thought of you, Linda.
Linda, I made a terrible mistake and I know it, for sure, now. My life has been one great
big torment over that act of cruelty to the one woman I loved and still do. I was young
and stupid as could be and would give the world to take it back and undo the hurt I caused
you.
You know how you find yourself regretting unkind words or deeds towards someone when
they die before you can patch things up? Well, this is a lot worse. I'm beside myself
with grief over that mistake.
I paid my price and am asking you for the chance to mend that all up and undo as much of it
as I possibly can, and soon, if you care about me at all. I think we both need it, Linda.
You were just Linda Harnist from Lizella, your father just a family man of modest means.
If you only knew how beautiful I would have found you, then, just as you are.
P.S.
I checked your employment application when I started to question your stories and it
listed Danielle Phillips. How did you get paid, then, using that name?
Your siblings should have my phone number. Only an e-mail or letter or call from you,
and very soon, can stave off my next move.
I'd like to bring up all the good times but it would tear me apart, now.
Miss you, Steve
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