13/06/2026
Dear Synergy Press fans:
This is a story of a Wedding Celebration in February of 1987. A story that went from a blind date with the daughter of a friend of my Grandmother Alice. A girl who remembered me the evening of a family gathering after my mother got married to a man who would always encourage my passion with creative writing: always trying to impress him with my breaking the records of my Literary attempts to break my own personal best records. My grandmother Alice gave me the number.of this girl from the past in February of 1987 and I agreed to meet her in the Admissions lobby at The College of Communication. As I was expecting a very pretty lady. She, someone who could rock her world. She finally asked me as I sat on a wooden bench across from her if I was Patrick. I believe that she and I were expecting the other one to look more than how we did at the time, so, after saying that we were not interested in going out, parted ways from the Admissions lobby at COM where we met for all of my dreams to come true.
The story gets more interesting though. On that very evening after this blind date, I went to my room on Washington Street to prepare for the very first night of the COM group meeting for a Communications course that had to meet periodically and each of us had to take a certain angle in promoting a product line. Ours was Rubbermaid, the company that sold tupperware. As we all (about five of us) sat in the basement student lounge at George Sherman Union, a girl named Gina was talking to me quite nicely. She found me on the first floor of the George Sherman student union waiting to see her face as I only remembered her face. She finally walked on the way to the stairs going down when I realized that this was the group project member, and as we realized my miscommunication, joined the rest of the group in the basement student lounge as she joked about where I had been waiting for the group of COM students in this COM course I was taking with all of them.
After we finished discussing who was going to write about one aspect of the product line 'Rubbermaid', she, another male student, and I walked outside while it started to rain. I pulled out a portable umbrella from my bookbag strapped around my right shoulder and, just as Gina tried to get under it with me, the other male COM student broke away from us, and saying goodnight to both of them, I walking to where 'the T' stopped for me to go back to my room in the tenant house on Washington Street that cut the C-line of the Metro subway that went to Boston University to Brookline, Massachusetts and all the way to the end of the line that was, for me, a metaphor for life's true romance turning into art's dream of unrequited love.
You may find this hard to believe, yet that very evening before I headed to the BU George Sherman Student Union on the wrong floor where I thought we were going to meet, one of the tenants where I lived in Brookline, Massachusetts on Washington Street, caught me excited about seeing this girl for the first time outside of the COM class at the student union asked me if I really liked this female COM student and I said yes, that I really did. He then cupped his hands together and whispered in my left ear: "Give and take." I didn't understand so he did the same, hands cupped over my right ear. I asked him in front of the oldest tenant that got paid by the late-Flora Fields, who owned the house, what "Give and take" meant. Then, this heavy drinker who worked for The City of Boston who lived a flight of stairs about my first floor room answered while looking at the older female tenant with a smirk on his face: "Well, you put up with a woman and she'll put out for you." Of course, the magic is that when the group met that night, after we discussed the Rubbermaid group project, Gina actually asked me if I ever heard of "Give and take". I said that I did. Then, continued by saying: "Most people don't know about it, which I later found out that despite the Catholic Church's side of it as a Holy mantra, it was almost an underground secret that was said to those being rehabilitated, an axiom reserved for people struggling to become more proactive by working despite personal challenges, or more acceptable or useful to society.
There I was looking like I knew something most did not. I believed this summer between the years 1987 until 1990 while I was a student of The College of Communication at Boston University, that every hurdle in life was meant to be conquered, from Beacon to Washington Street.”
–John Patrick Acevedo, Poet.,
June 13, 2026, 8:59 a.m.,
Guaynabo, Puerto Rico
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