(no subject)
So my great-aunt and uncle recently had their 50th wedding anniversary and my mom sent me a copy of my great uncle's toast and it was incredible so I am posting it here for everyone else to read and enjoy:
50-years. 50 years!!!!
How many people stay married that long? How many couples stay together for even 5 -years? Or 2-years? How about 1-year? And here we are, this great woman and I, about to celebrate our 50th anniversary.
50 + years ago I played racquetball every Sunday at the YMHA (gone now) in Jersey City, NJ with Archie Lewiskin, a big, burly, monster of a gentle, pussy cat guy. I had recently returned from active duty in Korea, and, starting at the bottom of the ladder at a CPA firm, was just commencing what I then perceived was going to be a rewarding career in Public Accounting.
Drafted right out of college, and never having practiced, I feared that much of what I had learned in school I had forgotten. But needing a job and having been trained and educated to do the Accounting thing, I chose to give it a try. While I would learn in a few years that that honorable profession was not what I thought, and that I was not of a suitable temperament for its demands and dedication (and, for me, drudgery), at that time I thought I really was on my way. Also, dating heavily, I commenced to make up for lost time, and was really enjoying my new life.
Now it seemed that whenever we finished our games, and were in the steam room or in the resting lounge, Archie would interrogate me about my social life i.e. whom was I dating, was I happy with whomever I was seeing, etc. Invariably the topic would evolve to a lovely, bright girl who was the sister-law of his wife’s brother. Now, I liked and trusted Archie, and would normally have responded with interest, but when he advised me that the young lady lived in Brooklyn, my interest ceased. Nothing to do with the then borough of dem Bums, but I felt that Brooklyn was just too long a distance to travel for a date; especially a “blind” date, and especially since I was doing so “well” on the dating scene at that time.
Archie, who would have made a great salesman, did not relent, however, and week after week after week persisted in pressing me to meet this bright beauty from Brooklyn. Then, finally, maybe a couple of months after starting his “campaign”, I said to hell with it, and asked for her phone number.
I called, we seemed to hit it off sufficiently well, and agreed to meet at her apartment on 86th Street in Brooklyn. Now, this was early 1954, like I said I was just starting a new career, and at $50/week I did not own a car (nor did most of my friends then). I had to
borrow my father’s car, and with the directions given me, commenced on this journey to unknown territory. Now, you may find that a little dramatic, but when you consider that I have what may be the world’s worse sense of direction (a Lou Silverman legacy), and that I had only recently gotten my license to drive, this was a serious challenge. When I remember that guys in my platoon often depended on me to get back to base on night patrols, I both laugh and shudder.
Somehow, I made it through the Holland Tunnel, crossed Lower Manhattan, found the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, the Shore Parkway, the correct exit, 86th Street, and miraculously arrived on time. Taking the elevator to the 4th floor, I found the apartment, and knocked on the door.
A beautifully coiffured, stylishly dressed woman with a stunning face and complexion greeted me. Studying me intensely with a piercing gaze, she invited me into her bright, cheerfully decorated apartment. Archie is my man forever I thought as this beauty offered me a chair. After a few moments of polite conversation, however, I was advised that she was not my date. I had knocked on the wrong door. This lady was Ruth, my date’s sister. My date lived with her folks next door. Having explained this, she excused herself, and left the apartment.
Somewhat disappointed, my thought was that Archie was not yet off the hook. I was filled with the worse kind of blind date fears. What if….? No, Archie would not do that to me. Or would he? The door opened, and my life changed forever. Archie was indeed vindicated. I was thrilled. The lady I was meeting for the first time was beyond any expectations I might have had then, and, I must add, continues to be so even now.
I cannot seem to contemplate
These years that we’ve been paired.
Lovers, parents, partners, mates
A fulfilling life we’ve shared.
A burst of brightness in my life
‘Twas me you took a risk in.
You’ve been the best of any wife.
Here’s thanks to Archie Lewiskin
50-years. 50 years!!!!
How many people stay married that long? How many couples stay together for even 5 -years? Or 2-years? How about 1-year? And here we are, this great woman and I, about to celebrate our 50th anniversary.
50 + years ago I played racquetball every Sunday at the YMHA (gone now) in Jersey City, NJ with Archie Lewiskin, a big, burly, monster of a gentle, pussy cat guy. I had recently returned from active duty in Korea, and, starting at the bottom of the ladder at a CPA firm, was just commencing what I then perceived was going to be a rewarding career in Public Accounting.
Drafted right out of college, and never having practiced, I feared that much of what I had learned in school I had forgotten. But needing a job and having been trained and educated to do the Accounting thing, I chose to give it a try. While I would learn in a few years that that honorable profession was not what I thought, and that I was not of a suitable temperament for its demands and dedication (and, for me, drudgery), at that time I thought I really was on my way. Also, dating heavily, I commenced to make up for lost time, and was really enjoying my new life.
Now it seemed that whenever we finished our games, and were in the steam room or in the resting lounge, Archie would interrogate me about my social life i.e. whom was I dating, was I happy with whomever I was seeing, etc. Invariably the topic would evolve to a lovely, bright girl who was the sister-law of his wife’s brother. Now, I liked and trusted Archie, and would normally have responded with interest, but when he advised me that the young lady lived in Brooklyn, my interest ceased. Nothing to do with the then borough of dem Bums, but I felt that Brooklyn was just too long a distance to travel for a date; especially a “blind” date, and especially since I was doing so “well” on the dating scene at that time.
Archie, who would have made a great salesman, did not relent, however, and week after week after week persisted in pressing me to meet this bright beauty from Brooklyn. Then, finally, maybe a couple of months after starting his “campaign”, I said to hell with it, and asked for her phone number.
I called, we seemed to hit it off sufficiently well, and agreed to meet at her apartment on 86th Street in Brooklyn. Now, this was early 1954, like I said I was just starting a new career, and at $50/week I did not own a car (nor did most of my friends then). I had to
borrow my father’s car, and with the directions given me, commenced on this journey to unknown territory. Now, you may find that a little dramatic, but when you consider that I have what may be the world’s worse sense of direction (a Lou Silverman legacy), and that I had only recently gotten my license to drive, this was a serious challenge. When I remember that guys in my platoon often depended on me to get back to base on night patrols, I both laugh and shudder.
Somehow, I made it through the Holland Tunnel, crossed Lower Manhattan, found the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, the Shore Parkway, the correct exit, 86th Street, and miraculously arrived on time. Taking the elevator to the 4th floor, I found the apartment, and knocked on the door.
A beautifully coiffured, stylishly dressed woman with a stunning face and complexion greeted me. Studying me intensely with a piercing gaze, she invited me into her bright, cheerfully decorated apartment. Archie is my man forever I thought as this beauty offered me a chair. After a few moments of polite conversation, however, I was advised that she was not my date. I had knocked on the wrong door. This lady was Ruth, my date’s sister. My date lived with her folks next door. Having explained this, she excused herself, and left the apartment.
Somewhat disappointed, my thought was that Archie was not yet off the hook. I was filled with the worse kind of blind date fears. What if….? No, Archie would not do that to me. Or would he? The door opened, and my life changed forever. Archie was indeed vindicated. I was thrilled. The lady I was meeting for the first time was beyond any expectations I might have had then, and, I must add, continues to be so even now.
I cannot seem to contemplate
These years that we’ve been paired.
Lovers, parents, partners, mates
A fulfilling life we’ve shared.
A burst of brightness in my life
‘Twas me you took a risk in.
You’ve been the best of any wife.
Here’s thanks to Archie Lewiskin