55 Years and Counting

-
“How did you meet?” is one of the questions that frequently comes up when celebrating a milestone anniversary. My answer, unsurprisingly, took the form of a brief story which I read to family and friends gathered together.  It was a perfect day with wonderful food, music and dancing.  And while many of our friends have known us for most of those years, they were curious to know how we met. While my memory has dimmed somewhat, this day is still vivid and bright.


First Glance

Dad’s Day Weekend at the University of Illinois is in 3 weeks and we have just rehearsed our skit for the past 2 hours.  My hair hangs in strings and I feel gritty and slippery.  My glasses are smudged, make-up gone and as I follow my dorm mates into the lobby, I cannot decide if I am more hungry or tired.  Papers litter the tables, students lounge on the floor, sofas and chairs.  I walk up the accessible ramp, stepping over books and backpacks.  A hand taps my shoulder and I turn to see who is behind me.  No one I know.

“Want a bite of my apple?” the boy asks.

I say no, am fixated on the apple and more than a little confused. His shirt tails hang loose, and he has a day’s growth of beard.  Now I stand against the railing and we talk about nothing really, but I can’t seem to move. I know the others will be wondering what happened to me.  But I continue to talk.  He says his name is Steve Bauer.  We laugh and I know I like his smile. His eyes are clear, and I feel comfortable.

Thirty minutes later I am on my way to the social room.  The pizza box is empty, and everyone is annoyed with me.  I concentrate on remembering the guy’s name that I just met and ask if they saw him standing on the ramp.  No one did.  I ask does anyone know a guy named Steve Bauer and no one does. I stay for a few more minutes, then go to my room.

My roommate is awake. I tell her I just met someone named Steve Bauer.  She looks up for an instant and returns to her history text, answering me with a hmmm, her usual response.  I lie in my bed, conjure up Steve’s face and wonder if I will see him again when the phone rings.  We talk for what seems like hours.  We meet for coffee the next day.  I learn to pronounce and spell his last name correctly. 

I struggle with his intensity.  He struggles with my resistance.  And then one night, deep in a challenging conversation, the call abruptly disconnects.  Thinking he has hung up on me, I arrive at his apartment ten minutes later only to discover that the operator had disconnected our call.  And the rest is history.

 
 Steve and Barb, August 15, 1964

Comments

Post a Comment

Thank you for leaving a comment

Popular posts from this blog

Scars

-
Image
It’s 7:00 in the morning on a warm July day in 2008. I’m nervous and excited about the prospect of Ben being able to live longer and feel stronger. A new invention, surgically implanted, is supposed to keep his diaphragm moving his lungs so he can breathe. His friend, and film collaborator, is with him in the next room, helping him bathe and dress. Ben is excited, having waited nearly one year for FDA approval. Steve has already gone downstairs to have a quiet breakfast.   My heart races so fast, I think I might be having a heart attack. I take some deep breaths and imagine Ben a few days from now taking steady breaths. I step carefully into the bathtub and turn on the shower, wash my hair and let the hot water massage my back but the tightness in my throat remains.  As I step out of the shower, I slip on the floor and collide with the edge of the toilet seat. In seconds, blood covers the toilet, the floor, my face. The gash is directly above my left eyebrow and may...
Read more

In Search of a Peaceful Transition

-
Image
  The service for Ruth Bader Ginsburg left me in tears. I felt the loss as deeply as that of a close friend. To see a Jewish woman of her stature being revered so deeply by so many left me sobbing. Her clerks standing vigilant over her casket in silence was riveting. The care and love by so many.  Just thinking about it gives me hope.  Because these days there's so little of it and so much fear. I can think of little else than the election looming ahead.  We've adorned Trump with so many adjectives and yet none of them seem to be enough.  He's a Stalin, a Hitler, a monster, a tyrant, a fool, a despot, an ignoramus.  But he's really just a frightened man/child looking for scapegoats to blame for his own ineptitude.  Instead of the Jews or the Capitalists, it's the Democrats or Socialists who are to blame for whatever needs blaming. Or it's the protestors who will take away your rights and destroy your homes. Only Trump can save you from whatever he thin...
Read more

Surviving Mistakes

-
Image
It’s been a challenging time.  Between my tendonitis, the state of the country, the pandemic keeping us close to home, concern for our children and grandchildren’s safety, and more has left me exhausted. On the positive side, I am one of the lucky ones, safely inside with plenty of food and no worries about how to pay the rent.  The world has turned in monstrous ways. Separate factions are digging deeper holes than ever before with no stopping in sight.  I remember when my vote mattered but I wasn’t frightened when the man (it was always a man for president until 2016) I supported did not win.  The other guy was ok enough.  That was true for most of the choices I faced at election time.  But that’s no longer true.  The divide is so deep it’s a bottomless cavern.  And the challenge we all face is to figure out how we will pull ourselves together after November 3. The 2016 election was filled with mistakes. Some sat it out, others voted for...
Read more