Friends – Page 2 – Here Back East

Couples Meet

January 2022

I sat across from a lovely couple last week at a friend’s birthday party, in a private room at a local club. The couple were acquaintances, having met them on several previous occasions socially, but this was our first opportunity to get to know each other more personally. In the course of our conversation—the usual background enquiries and more–I casually asked how they met. Their story made me realize how fortuitous it is when couples meet and truly live happily ever after.

Harry and Miriam had met at Purdue University where they both were teaching in the mathematics department. A mixer for single faculty members was planned, and they were each prompted by colleagues to attend. At the event, the two met and seemed to click right away, to the point that Harry, the senior professor, was comfortable enough in asking Miriam, the young associate professor and future lovely wife, “Do you plan on having children?’ She laughed and responded, “Of course and many!” That sealed the deal and shortly thereafter they became a couple. They have been calculating the algorithms of their large family and careers ever since.

After hearing their story, I was intrigued enough to ask the question of other couples Patti and I know. Their answers have been wide ranging, yet all the stories seemed to share the element of fate in common. Meets early on in childhood, high school, Hebrew School, holidays, family events, college and more currently on Match.com. Especially interesting meets included one at a camp in the Adirondacks, where families went in the 1940’s to escape New York summer heat, while another was a beach romance in the south of France, where two families reconnected after the War. Then there was reunion of two 80-year-olds prompted by the obituary column in the local paper. Both lost their spouses at around the same time and saw each other’s name, as survivors of the deceased, in print on the same day. They connected for the first time since graduating high school together in Palm Beach 60 years earlier. Many of the meets are instant attraction, even as youngsters, yet it is what emerges afterward that creates the connection. Words like “open” “friendly” “easy to talk to” and “always laughing” are often used to describe the attributes that draw two people closer together.

I met my late wife when I was in the 9^th grade and she was in the 8th. I originally had a crush on her sister, Harriet, who was in my grade, but Harriet was more interested in older boys. She wisely offered to introduce me to her younger sister, Judie, whose locker happened to be across from my own. And that is where we first met, Judie and I, a bit awkwardly, in the halls of Benjamin Franklin High School. The awkwardness very quickly gave way to a mutual attraction that sustained our relationship for the next 63 years, until her passing in 2017.

Recently, there was another meet in my life, but this time it was a gradual one. There were no claps of thunder or love at first sight moments, but a somewhat distant friendship of 30 years turned into something more meaningful two years ago. It happened over a few shared meals and through the encouragement of mutual friends, and now Patti is my new partner in life.

It was touching to see the academic couple who, when sharing their story, spoke to each other – not over each other- while she lovingly lay her head on his shoulder. Meets that lead to lifelong relationships are like that star forever in the sky that lights up every cloudless night.

Parents

December 2021

I recently had my Mountain Messenger columns assembled into book form, which I have shared with my friends and colleagues. In return, I have received a number of responses from people which, perhaps inspired by my own personal musings, often include reflections on their own lives. My life-long friend Jerry, who I grew up with in Rochester, New York, sent me profiles he had written some time ago of his parents. Fathers were the toughs in our lives. Jer’s father was tethered to the TV, which was a new invention at the time. Because of his fragile health, he was home all day, which was unusual for us since most of our fathers worked during the day and in most cases evenings as well. When we visited Jer, we tiptoed around the house so as not to disturb Jer’s dad. Any noise prompted a serious shushing from Jer’s mother. Ron’s dad was the owner of a men’s clothing store in a predominantly Black neighborhood of Rochester, around Kelly Street and Joseph Avenue. In the winter he would drive a few of us –Ron, Jer and myself– to school some mornings, sparing us the wait at the bus stop. The trouble was that he was a chain smoker. Because of the below freezing weather outside, he wouldn’t let us open the car windows, which always led to a fight between Ron and his dad, and which Ron always lost. Ron’s dad was typical, in that all the men in our lives were heavy smokers during this era. Secondhand smoke was unavoidable and probably contributed to health issues for many of us later in life. I stayed away from smoking until I was introduced to the habit in college and stayed addicted for the next seven years, finally quitting when my father became ill with emphysema.

Mothers were the main influencers in our lives. My late wife Judie’s mother was a single parent living in a cottage behind the grandparents’ main house on Rauber Street, with two beautiful teenage girls– both sought after by young, thirsty University of Rochester college students. My high school prom date was Sharon. Her mother was another single parent of four– three boys and beautiful Sharon. When Sharon and I dated, I was never far from the watchful eye of Murph, her brother who was just a couple of years older than myself and who was a linebacker on our high school football team. When he wasn’t around, her older brother, home from attending law school at Syracuse, was never far. Sharon and Judie’s moms worked outside the home since they were supporting families on their own. The other moms were mostly stay-at-home housewives, although I recall Jer’s mom was a saleswoman for Encyclopedia Brittanica and we all bought a set from her. The stay-at-home moms were there in the morning to prepare school lunches and in the evening to make dinner.

My mother didn’t work outside the home, but her hands were always full, and I often helped her. Sometimes it took the form of protecting her from my father’s harsh words, because of the tough fathers, mine seemed the toughest. Whether he was dissatisfied with his dinner, or furious from the disrespect he felt from my older brother or sister, his temper was easily triggered. My mother was always defending the conduct of my brother and sister, however insignificant it was in my mind and it led to constant flare ups. My sister refused to go to college and married young, which caused tension in our family, as education was ingrained in us as paramount. My brother left for college in his senior year of high school to get out of the house and away from my father. With my brother and sister gone, my father had only me and my mother as targets for his anger. I learned early on to stand between him and my mother when she started to cry, a sure sign of an escalation in hostilities. Standing face to face with him, he zeroed in on me as a target for his anger. I would lure him away from her until he physically chased me around and outside until we both collapsed from exhaustion. I was always proud that I could outrun him. Even at the end of his life my father was tough on my mother. By then, she was suffering from dementia, and unable to perform the usual familial duties–such as putting dinner on the table every night– that he expected throughout 60 plus years of marriage.

What Comes Around

November 2021

It has been nearly 60 years since my closest friend Jerry Poss and I palled around as freshman at Rutgers College in New Jersey. I was a newbie from upstate New York. Jerry was a Teaneck boy, following in the footsteps of his older brother who was graduating and about to become every mother’s dream: a doctor. Jerry was a tall, handsome, athlete who didn’t have a care in the world except sports and girls. I was afraid of flunking out after we were instructed at orientation to “look to your left and look to your right–one of you will not be here after a semester.” If anything would scare this pimpled kid from Rochester it was that pronouncement. I started out pre-med with pie-in-the-sky expectations that my high science scores on the aptitude test would support my grandiose career plans. I quickly learned that a full load of liberal arts courses plus the sciences were too much for me–especially when I turned to my left and right and heard the New Jersey pre-med boys’ quick responses to the professors’ questions. I dropped pre-med and picked up geology and American studies per Jerry’s advice and counseling. We both knew it was to be law school for me eventually-the other choice was podiatry, and I wasn’t going to do toenails for the rest of my life. So once my classes were straightened out and I was free of the torturous studying, Jerry and I tackled our second semester dilemma: which fraternity to join. Jerry was a legacy at ZBA on campus through his brother, so it was an easy choice for him, and I just followed along. We both pledged and the rest is history. Now, 60 years later, we are both widowed. Jerry lost his Stef, his coed love from Douglas, and I lost my Judie, my high school sweetheart from back upstate. Together we are bachelors again, embarking on this new phase of our lives. I have been fortunate enough to find a wonderful companion in Patti. Jerry is just starting out, and since I am four years ahead of him in widowerhood unfortunately, this time it is my task to guide him.

First lesson: don’t read the grief books. They will only take you down someone else’s path of loneliness. Second, find some activities that you always wanted to do but couldn’t for one reason or another. I started writing this column and took watercolor painting classes. And finally, be open and honest with yourself. Don’t shy away from the notion of finding another partner in life. I know the saying “time heals all wounds.” I disagree – only companionship will heal the loneliness. More importantly, at 80 years of age, how much fun time do we have left? Travel, take classes, plan outings with friends. It’s great to have the children to visit and take trips with but as bachelors at 80 we still need companionship of the female kind. So Jer, we are off. You need to learn to fish, and I need to dust off my old golf clubs to tag along with you. We may even try to play tennis again. There is still life left in these old bones.