For these books Pat Mulvaney's Diary has provided me with a wealth of information on the life he lead with Judy Spinaker aka Jutta Kessler. Why he even kept a diary I do not know, but I came into the possession of Pat Mulvaney’s Diary under the most sorrowful conditions – as I was removing Judy's belongings from my house after her death. I found it in the most unusual location. I was already virtually in tears having to do this deed, but she had been gone for almost eight weeks before I had the strength and the determination to remove her completely from my life. That is to say if such a thing were possible for having loved someone physically, spiritually and soulfully for so long. I realize I should have hired someone to do it, but then again I had hoped that maybe I would learn more about the woman who had stolen my heart. When you are married to someone, you think you know your spouse, but I was always surprised by her intelligent innocence, despite having gone through what would have been considered an extraordinarily exhaustible life.

I had started in the living room of our modest little home and looked around. All I could see were the momentos of times since passed which in time had become part of my past. There were the glass boots from Germany, the camel hair brush from Libya, the Persian rug from Iran and of course the dinosaur fossil from Utah. Oh how she was ecstatic when she found that. My oh my did she have some funny stories to tell and because of those stories I felt a sincere fondness for each of them as they represented not only her, but her work. For me to remove them would be like throwing away Picasso’s easel.

So I decided to go into the kitchen and all the little things that she had bought, which made the house a real home for the two of us were everywhere. Most of these things a guy would never buy such as a toaster cozy, shelves of spices, pot holders with the word "Ouch" on them, and all sorts of aprons among which was her favorite - the one with strawberries because she always liked me to wear especially naked. She had cut a hole in the front right where the stem for a strawberry stuck straight up. Although I found myself coveting these things, I was unable to remove them despite the fact that they were hers. To throw away everything that she stood for would be to throw away a part of me. I simply could not do such a thing for it would be like cutting off an arm or a leg.

I was determined to accomplish something so I quickly went into the bathroom and grabbed whatever was not mine and threw them into a box. I first emptied the medicine cabinet of her medicines, creams and anything that I did not recognize. I squatted down and began to empty the cabinet under the sink. Her hairdryer, combs, soaps, and lotions were all thrown into the box. I stuck my head far inside to make sure I got everything and I glanced up into the corner. There up on the shelf that I had built for her, I spotted the 9mm pistol with forty rounds of ammunition. I remember the day clearly how she said she did not want to be caught in the bathroom without a pistol again. I thought that situation was somewhat humorous at the time only because I was really standing outside of the door, while the killer was inside with her. He didn't have any weapons with him.

When I thoroughly emptied the bathroom, I went into the bedroom. At first I thought this would be easy. One side of the walkin closet was hers and the other side was mine. All I needed to do was grab all her clothes and throw them into the box. I slid her door to the side and in full view were the many evening gowns that she wore to important dinners and believe it or not on one occasion to McDonald’s. I grabbed several of them and tossed them into the box.

I went to get more when I noticed some old ones that I accidentally ruined. Why she kept them I don’t know? There was the coffee stain from Salt Lake, the dates from Tehran and of course the purple one with the deep V cut in the front with my blood stains on the shoulder. I had never seen her cry so much as she did holding me after I was shot. Actually the wound was not that bad. I was so tired I just couldn’t move; besides, the dress was cut so I could see her breast as she held me. I remember thinking "What a way to go!" I am certainly surprised she saved so many of them since they had no value at least not to anyone else, but then again the value was in the chronological history of her, just hanging in a closet. This was her. This was her past and mine too. I pulled all of the other gowns back out of the box and placed them back on the rack and quickly shut the door.

Judy and I never conceded defeat in all the fights that we were engaged in and I’m afraid that on this point I was ready to give up. I decided to call in some help as I looked around the room. Her chester drawers should not be hard to empty. I opened the drawer to her lingerie and the aroma of her perfume tantalized me just as it had so many times in the past when we were alone and when we were not. I had become so acute to her scent that I was able to determine if another woman was wearing the same thing just by passing by her. My heart raced a little at the sight of the blacks, blues, and my favorite pinks. I tossed them all into a box on the floor. I must admit to you that I did keep one. You may call it a fetish, you may call me sick; but I call it a love and devotion like no other.

This particular pair of panties holds a special place in my heart. The two of us were at one of those traveling carnivals and we came upon the airbrush T-shirt booth. I asked her if she would like one with my name on it along with the saying "I’m with stupid." She replied that she had more than enough T-shirts, besides she thought everyone could tell without being told. We laughed, but I seem to recall that she was more amused than I. She had a better idea. She asked me to go get some ice cream and come back no sooner than fifteen minutes to get her. She wanted to surprise me. I returned fifteen minutes later, but she refused to show me what she had gotten until we were home.

When we arrived home she still would not show me at first. As we were getting ready for bed I sat down in a chair in the corner of our bedroom to remove my shoes. Judy suddenly turned down the lights and turned on some dance music. I believe it was the theme song from Flashdance. She came into the room doing an extremely sexy striptease. When the time came for me to slowly remove her clothes I got a very close view of what she had done at the carnival. She got the man to airbrush her panties. On the back they said "Authorized Personnel Only." On the front was brushed "Warning!" my name and the word "Only." When the music had finished, she asked me what I was waiting for; I was authorized. I was physically incapable of waiting a second more. My God how she could dance and how I loved her and certainly more than I am able to write.

That particular pair I stuffed into my side of the drawers. When I looked closely to see if there was anything else in the drawer, I noticed at the bottom and way in the back was a booklet. On the cover was the title written in what appeared to be Judy’s hand - Patrick Mulvaney’s Diary. The booklet had the seal of the U.S. Army on the cover with an olive green background. I opened the book and began to read the passages. The first entry caught my eye and I began to read a few more. Eventually, I sat down on the floor of the bedroom and leaned up against that same chair that I sat in for Judy’s dance. In the beginning of the Diary some of the entries were trivial day to day activities, but there were others which recounted Pat and Judy's exploits. As time progressed he appeared to enter only relevant details and the entries began to spread over several days and sometimes weeks would pass without a single entry. His innermost thoughts were there in front of me and most of my favorite entries dealt with his meeting Judy and their relationship. He actually had written several poems to her. He was a musician, but I do not recall him ever writing any songs and he makes no mention of doing so in the diary - not even a small reference as to his intentions.

Obviously, at some point in their relationship he had presented the book to her. On the other hand she probably kept it after his death. Pat could write much better than I and I feel he was more capable than I to say what we both felt about Judy for I could only reiterate what he says. I will allow him to speak for the both of us. I think it would make both Pat and Judy happy. I wonder though that when I die will I be able to spend eternity with her or will Pat or for that matter neither? As I slowly stood up and noticed that three hours had passed without any real progress. I closed the drawers and took what I had downstairs. I sent out for pizza and sat quietly under a reading lamp in the living room and began to read the diary. I noticed that I could still smell her perfume in the surrounding air. I looked over at the chair she used to sit in and study. I suddenly felt incredibly alone. My God how I loved her so and I still wonder who loved her the most. Was Pat more in love with her or was I? Judy called him an intensely exceptional man. Here was a man who actually wrote poems to her, which is something I never had the talent to do. I slowly turned the pages and read certain portions of the diary. When I came to the first poem, I was extremely jealous. I was jealous of a man who in my opinion could express his love so eloquently. At that moment I decided to publish the poems and write books on their lives.

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