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| new post! new post! new post!
Mainly so anyone leaving something doesn't have to link onto one of the old chains...
I've been writing a lot lately, for reasons I won't disclose yet. It's been great to feel inspired. Here's the short story of how my parents met & married:
My parents are John and Suzie Weiss. John grew up in Belleville, NJ; Suzie is from Queens. They met in college, although the story of how they met differs between them. The way my dad tells it, one autumn he was standing behind her in a registration line. He noticed her and peaked over her shoulder to steal a peek at the name on her registration form, and he said something like, "How's it going, Marie?" My mom, a confident girl from Queens, replied sharply & coldly, "My name's not Marie." She was standing in line because her name was incorrect on the form.
The way my mom tells it, they met at a party the night before, and she was cold to my father's greeting because she thought he should remember her. Dad claims to have no recollection of said party.
They went on a few dates, and my mom really liked my dad, but then he stopped asking her out. He worked in the library, and so, one day my mom went in and said to him, "you know, there's this guy I really like, but he doesn't ask me out anymore..." my dad said, "maybe this guy doesn't have any money." and my mom replied, "well, we don't have to spend money, we can go for a walk or go to the park..." and from that point they were set, courting around new york city. In a year, after graduating from St. Peter's College in NJ, my dad moved to Wisconsin for engineering grad school.
Some time later, dad came home to NJ for a fall break. The night he was leaving, my parents found themselves in his car. My mom was crying. She didn't want him to go. And my dad said something like, "we should get married." And my mom replied something like, "OK." They bought their rings later at a flea market. They were married that Christmas. He describes this decision later by saying, "I went to Wisconsin and I didn't have her there, and I just thought it would be nicer to have her there with me."
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| ... and it will be like this for the rest of the week!
Oh, how I love these early, pleasant days of autumn! That clear, crisp sunshine makes great days for getting outside. I love the anticipation of putting on sweaters, the execution of baking things with cinnamon & nutmeg. Bring it on, I say! Autumn is finally, blissfully here!
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| Now that I'm through with Potter, I'm so hungry for another story to bury myself in. I want to get wrapped inside it, I want to love and cry, and miss it when it's over.
Any suggestions? | | |
| Lori says I need a new post, and suggested this one:
My dad has a saying about men & pies. And that saying is, "men like pies."
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| I've seen 3 couples on F trains in the last 24 hours. The first were young & hip, with another young guy, their friend. He carried a heavy case of water; they carried liters of soda. They put them down around a pole and stood; as the train starts, the boyfriend goes to grab his girl and says confidently, gently, "you must hold on to me." She gives a wide grin at the command, tucks her arms in, and leans into him.
That second I saw that night. I didn't notice them until the car had almost emptied. I noticed them when they started to kiss. They didn't stop. I missed what sparked it - they had been talking, but did he say something sweet? Did he lean in like a brute? I see him say something & lean in, and then their lips lock longer than my glance. It's uncomfortable to watch. I look again & they're more active; his hand grabs her back & pulls her closer. There's another woman at the end of the car - is she as uncomfortable as I? She's not looking. High worship should take place behind closed doors.
The third was the saddest. They were older, in their 40's, unmarried. Now it was morning; they had slept together the night before. She was trying desperately to salvage something. She did this by conversation. He replied with one-words. I noticed them when she said, "You know, just give me a call. We can get together for drinks in the city, no big deal." I think about laying down in bed, and laying down one's life for another. He stood apart from the pole, holding onto it for balance. She stood close to the pole, leaned on it, and wrapped her hands around his one, caressing his fingers. She tried to fill the inevitable pauses, her 40-year-old voice doing its best to sound young & syrupy sweet. "Does your back hurt?" "Why?" "Because you slipped & fell on the stairs last night. Do you remember? Do you remember that?" He said it didn't hurt. She paused, then launched into a story about a party she had, slippery steps, a guy who had fallen who had almost broken his neck, and she had been scared. He looked at her. It was unconvincing - the story, her fright, his listening, their relationship. They leave the train to walk accross a platform & get another. He hand leaves the pole; it doesn't grab hers. | | |
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