32

The Husband & your host, when first we met

Dearest Readers,

Do I ever thank you enough for taking a look at Post Apocalyptic Bohemian? Having this little spot on the Internet brings me palatable pleasure. I feel more authentically myself when I am sharing my stories & reminding all of us of the contribution of those judged as queer through human history. I appreciate that you stop by.

Today marks the 32nd anniversary of your host & the Husband as a couple. We were married on our 25th anniversary, October 9th 2005, in Vancouver BC. The traditional gift for a 32nd anniversary is an automobile & for a 7th anniversary, wool or copper, your choice. Perhaps a knitted car would work for a combined choice for the 2 occasions.

My closest circle, including my spouse, have voiced concern that I am too candid on Post Apocalyptic Bohemian, yet my life is an open book & I wouldn’t have it any other way. Some incidents have been condensed for a shorter reading experience & some names have been changed to protect the innocent.

1979

Relationships sometimes take work & a marriage is an especially formidable entanglement. I don’t think I would do it again & I hope I don’t have to.

Postings about my husband, on his birthdays, on his art openings, & design triumphs, have elicited lovely comments from readers about how lucky I am, & notes such as: “I would love to have a husband someday”, “I think I will always be alone”, “It’s just me & my little parakeet”. I feel twinges of guilt about how people perceive our relationship. It has not been all hearts & flowers. 2 years ago, I was certain that we would not be celebrating the 31st anniversary of being a couple. The roughest of times in our relationship have been in the past 4 years & it is mostly, but not exclusively, my fault, often because of my boorish behavior: drugs, booze, adultery, money issues. The problems & events that drove us apart were not mundane, but rather sensational & very dramatic.

I am not certain what brought us closer together in the past year, except that possibly our love is incontrovertible, indubitable, infallible, & irrefutable after all. When our alliance was at its weakest, I had suggested that we go back & attempt to revive the friendship component. We have always been best friends to each other.

2009

The fact remains, the best of times & the happiest times, the most magical times & the times I have been most content, have been made more so, because I shared them with my Husband. I have spent more than half my life with this man. 4 cities, 6 dogs, a near divorce, & yet today we start our 33rd year as a couple.

I'll Know That Moment Divine...

On the occasion of our 10th anniversary of being a couple, after a swell party thrown by our neighbors & dear friends- R & M, I found myself alone with the man who would eventually be my husband. He presented me with a piece of his art, one of his marvelous & meaningful assemblages, just for the occasion.

I had planned this moment... yet I doubted that it could be pulled off without interruption, giggling, dog barking or humiliation. I stood facing him in our little Seattle cottage, I looked him in the eye & without flinching, using what I have to admit is my simply striking, if uncommon singing voice, I performed Jerome Kern’s- All The Things You Are, verse & chorus. I was more nervous than any stage performance. I finished- I'll know that moment divine, when all the things you are… are mine". The Husband had teared up. Then he said: “beautiful… how come you never sing to me? I love to hear you sing”. He kissed me.

Time and again I've longed for adventure,

Something to make my heart beat the faster.

What did I long for? I never really knew.

Finding your love I've found my adventure,

Touching your hand, my heart beats the faster,

All that I want in all of this world is you.

You are the promised kiss of springtime

That makes the lonely winter seem long.

You are the breathless hush of evening

That trembles on the brink of a lovely song.

You are the angel glow that lights a star,

The dearest things I know are what you are.

Some day my happy arms will hold you,

& some day I'll know that moment divine,

When all the things you are, are mine!

Jerome Kern/Oscar Hammerstein II

1939

My voice is not as clear & pure as Will Young... I was born with a whiskey voice.

On This Day in Post Apocalyptic Bohemian History

Presented by our real estate agent on the day the house became ours- October 8th, 2001. Click on the image to enlarge.

Living in our beloved little cottage in the Wallingford neighborhood of Seattle, we enjoyed a visit Portland for shopping, dining, & adventure. In the late summer 2001, just before the world changed forever, the Husband & I were in Portland visiting friends. We had recently been given news by our very good friends, former next-door-neighbors, & landlords, of a sizable & shocking rent increase. Shocking, because we had lived in the cottage for 15 years, paying low rent, but improving the property with major construction, new windows & doors, decks & walkways, & a stunning & imaginative garden that would stop people who were passing by.

The rent increase was offered up by our landlords/friends, a couple who we spent holidays with, traveled with, & gave our hearts to. They had explained that since their move to Mexico, the landlords felt that they were forced to get the best possible rent & no longer afford us a “deal”. Distressing news in any light, but complicated by the announcement that they would also be doing major construction, jacking the 700 square foot hovel up to accommodate their new mother-in-law unit. They would use the new daylight basement apartment when they were in Seattle.

The Husband & I were none to thrilled to pay almost twice as much to live in a major construction zone. After 15 years, we began to question improving someone else’s home equity, & we began to explore the possibility of owning our own home. I took a one day class on house purchasing. When we received notice that the amount of our pre-qualified mortgage would get us nothing in Seattle (we could possibly get a studio condo way north or south of the city), we were disheartened.

We loved our house & our neighborhood. The Husband & I had a 20 year history in Seattle. We had 2 decades worth of friends & acquaintances. We had employment, friends, & memories.

Discussing our situation while driving around Portland, the Husband bolted from our automobile in order to grab the flyer from the Plexiglas holder on a for sale sign of a sweet Portland Victorian with a rose garden. This only confused us. Had the listing left off a zero? You could purchase a quality home on Portland, Oregon for $160,000? We felt as if we were in a haze as we motored around Portland. The Husband suddenly demanded- “stop the car, pull over, pull over! Oh my God, oh my God… we are gonna move to Portland!?!”

I came to ask a handsome interesting gentleman, I had met on that Internet thingy, for suggestions & advice about moving & living in this beautiful & cool city. This man insisted that the1st step to relocating to Portland would be to engage Celia as my real estate agent. Celia, along with her charming girlfriend- Barb, remain friends to this day. She never seemed to mind picking me up in the morning at Portland’s Union Station, showing 10 houses, & getting me back to the train in time to go back to Seattle.

After a several tries of this method, I knew that the Husband would need to be involved in this important life decision. In early September 2001, he joined me for 2 days of house hunting. We hated every house we viewed. We were completely discombobulated, not feeling that we lived in the Seattle cottage & not visualizing living in Portland. Celia, the agent: “well based on all the houses you have seen, which one can we get you into? I am not going to be able to show you your dream house. You need to get into a home, let it increase in value, & in a few years we can look for your next one, taking our time to you find that special home”. Hmm… we didn’t know that it worked like that. We chose the house that seemed to be the best blank slate; the cleanest, least offensive residence that we could move into being householders.

We made a lot of changes to the street view of the house

We chose Post Apocalyptic Bohemia. We made an offer, then a counter offer that was accepted by the seller. We didn’t love the house. We cried. The Husband returned to Seattle, & gave a month’s notice at his job. I continued to travel by train between the 2 cities to deal with the business of house buying.

The Husband contemplates our decision a decade later

10 years ago, on this very day, our house closed & I received the keys. I went to the Title Company office with Celia. I was shaking & crying as I signed paper after paper, as myself, & then as the Husband, as his power of attorney. It was frightening & emotional at purchasing our 1st home without my man by my side. To add to the emotion, the next day was our 22nd anniversary, & we would not be together. He was living in our old world & I was starting my 1st day in our new world, but we were separated by 3 hours & a ton of doubt.

Happy Birthday To The Brooklyn Bridge

One of my favorite structures in the world & a movie star, my best Brooklyn Bridge moments in cinema history would include Diane Keaton & Woody Allen under the tower in Manhattan & the ancient Italian grandfather leading his pack of dogs to howl at the full moon in Moonstruck. The bridge offered inspiration for major artists such as Walt Whitman, Frank Lloyd Wright, Hart Crane & Georgia O’Keefe.

“The work which is most likely to become our most durable monument, & to convey some knowledge of us to the most remote posterity, is a work of bare utility; not a shrine, not a fortress, not a palace, but a bridge."

Harper's Weekly (1883)

Plans for a crossing between the city of Brooklyn & lower Manhattan dated back to the early 1800's. When the East River crossing was planned, Brooklyn, with about 400,000 residents, was still more rural than urban. NYC, which at the time consisted only of Manhattan, had twice as many residents, & the bridge was seen as a solution to overcrowding in Manhattan while spurring development in Brooklyn. The bridge would enable people & goods to cross the turbulent East River quickly, regardless of weather conditions.

In 1855, John Roebling, a famous bridge designer, proposed a suspension bridge over the East River after becoming impatient with the Fulton Street Ferry. Roebling worked out every detail of the bridge, from its massive granite towers to the 4 steel cables. He thought his design entitled the bridge "to be ranked as a national monument a great work of art."

The bridge took 13 years to build. 27 workers lost their lives trying to complete it. Roebling himself died from a tetanus infection after his foot was crushed in an accident & his son Washington Roebling also suffered a paralyzing injury as a result of decompression sickness from working in the channels below the river. His wife- Emily Warren Roebling provided the critical written link between her husband & the engineers on site. Under her husband's guidance, she studied higher mathematics, the calculations of catenary curves, the strengths of materials, bridge specifications, & the intricacies of cable construction. She spent the next 11 years assisting Washington Roebling helping to supervise the bridge's construction.

On this day in 1883, the opening ceremony was attended by 5000 people. President Chester Arthur & the Mayor of NYC crossed the bridge to celebratory cannon cacophony & were greeted by the Mayor of Brooklyn when they reached the Brooklyn side. Arthur shook hands with Washington Roebling at the latter's home, after the ceremony. Roebling was unable to attend the ceremony, & never visited the bridge again. He held a party at his house on the day of the bridge opening.

On that first day, 1800 vehicles & 150,300 people crossed what was then the only land passage between Manhattan & Brooklyn. Emily Warren Roebling was the first to cross the bridge. She carried a chicken.

The bridge's main span over the East River is 1,595 feet high. The bridge cost $15.5 million to build.

One week after the opening, a rumor that the Bridge was going to collapse caused a stampede, which crushed & killed 12 people.

When I was living in NYC in the mid-1970s, Dan Rodill, an aspiring playwright, climbed up the Manhattanside tower to draw attention to his unemployment. When the police tried to talk him down, Rodill handed them a press release.

I walked across the bridge on foot on a spring day in 1977. It was thrilling & I enjoyed a monumental view of the Manhattan skyline. I kicked around Brooklyn Heights, when Brooklyn was not the center of hipster cool.

On September 11, 2001, tens of thousands of people fled by foot across the bridge to escape the destruction at the World Trade Center.

The Brooklyn Bridge had become a symbol of not only of the greatness of NYC, but also of American ingenuity. I continue to find the bridge a wondrous thing to behold, a construction of beauty in the best of all American cities. It remains one of my most favorite structures in the world.

With Your Blessing, I Would Like To Start Year 3...

During a spat 3 years ago, the Husband stated: “for 27 years, you hardly ever said a word, & now you won’t shut up!”

Post Apocalyptic Bohemia began as a birthday challenge in 2009. Every January 3rd, I ask of myself to try & do something in my new year that would be difficult, but still possible for me to achieve.

I had poked the world of blogs after discovering my first one after a Google search in 2008- American Irish (which I still read) & I became a daily reader of about 20 blogs.

The idea jumped at me out of the blue, & on my birthday- 2009; I challenged myself to have my own blog & to do a post every single day. It took me a while to get going as I studied the templates & options, & attempted to make my choices for a name for my site & a point of view.

My first post was 2 years ago today. As I looked at that original post today, I realize what a naïf I was at the time. But, I did eventually find my voice; I related anecdotes from my life, weighed in with my opinions, & celebrated the lives of famous gay people, throughout history, on their birthdays.

I named my little spot on the Internet- Post Apocalyptic Bohemia because I share a structure with my husband of 31+ years & our 2 canines, which appears to be a squatter’s shack claimed after a cataclysmic event, & because we are all 4, decidedly Bohemian.

The best part of blogging for the past 24 months:

Having a relationship & sometimes daring to call them friends, 50 other bloggers & readers. I have met some in person, & although I was at first intimidated, I am thankful to have spent time with Mark, Will, Arnie & Blair. I have been blessed to have readers that don’t have their own websites… Glenn in L.A., thank for your many comments, compliments & for cleaning up my vintage photos. I have discovered that I have readers that never comment, & I am very grateful to them also.

I am the only son of an only son, the end of the line. I am in deep late-middle age. I feel that Post Apocalyptic Bohemia is my legacy, my story, written down & on the record. I think of it as my memoir, a record that I would be too lazy to write down in anything other form than these small installments with instant feedback.

I have always longed to be the center of attention & in the spotlight. Thank you, readers, for allowing me. As of today: 1,100 posts, 4,213 comments, 147 followers, 170,000 hits, 500-1000 views per day. I have received comments from post subjects: one of Robert Rauschenberg’s lovers, writer Peter Cameron, singer Karla De Vito, & thrillingly- Larry Kramer! 2 years ago today I never would have dared to believe. Much love & thank you to the Husband. He does not crave attention, & is an unwitting foil in all this. He is also a fine editor.

Thanks for stopping by my little place on the Internet. You mean the world to me, & if it is OK with you, I would like to renew my option for another year.

My own personal favorite post:
http://nopoboho.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-life-is-david-lynch-movie.html

October 9th, 1979

This is what was playing on my stereo at the very moment that we confessed that we were in love with each other. We came into our relationship loving Harry Nilsson, & we still are wild about Harry. Somethings don't ever need to change.

The First 31 Years Is The Hard Part

Posting about the main man in my life on our 30th anniversary, on his birthday, on his art openings, & design triumphs, has elicited lovely comments from readers about how lucky I am, & notes such as: “I would love to have a husband someday”, “I think I will always be alone”, “It’s just me & my little parakeet”. I feel twinges of guilt about how other people perceive my relationship. It has not been all hearts & flowers. A year ago, I was not actually certain that we would be celebrating a 31st anniversary of being a couple. The roughest of times in our relationship have been in the past 3 years & it is mostly, but not exclusively, my fault. The issues & events that drove us apart were not mundane, but rather sensational & very dramatic. I am not certain what brought us closer together in the past 6 months, except that maybe our love is incontrovertible, indubitable, infallible, & irrefutable after all. When our alliance was at its weakest, I had suggested that we go back & attempt to revive the friendship component of relationship & fuck the romance section. We have always been excellent friends to each other.

In the past 6 months we have each grappled with mortality, me with Deep Vein Thrombosis, & he with Crohn’s disease & Dupuytren's Contracture. Our medicine cabinet quadrupled in contents. We found comfort in each other’s strength & concern. In my mid-50s, I am still in tune with my perpetual party boy persona, which can manifest itself as truly loutish behavior. This part of my personality can surly test a spouse or a lover. It gives me a bit of unexpected start to discover over the summer that we adjusted, accommodated, & adapted into a more substantial, sweeter, strong, solid & satisfying partnership. Falling in love all over again can be quite the electrifying & enchanting experience.


We circled around each other for a couple of years. We were in the same group of friends & we did a lot of theatre projects together. The first time he saw me, ironically his wife pointed me out while I was crossing near them in a restaurant. The Husband claims that he knew at that moment that I was the ONE. I didn’t much care for him at first, actually. He was devastatingly handsome & jaw droppingly talented. He possessed a painful shyness that manifested itself as being cold & aloof. We very slowly started to become friends. I remember once being in the parking lot of a theatre where we both were employed, & my saying- “it is too hard to reach you. It is not worth it. You are too much trouble to try & be friends!" I was trying to reach him. It was not easy... but we slowly started to connect.

 He had come by my apartment on the pretense of working on some theatre stuff. I was so in love with him at this point that I couldn’t breathe in his presence. For about 6 months, there had been some little signs. Our fingers would linger while passing a joint. We would catch each other in a sustained glance. I was thinking of moving to another city because I could not stop thinking about him, Day & Night, Night & Day. He was all I could think about.

On October 9th, 1979, in the late afternoon of a beautiful autumn day, we told each other that we were in love with each other. With uncustomary restraint, we waited 24 hours to be intimate.

Oh, those crazy 1980s! With the Husband's daughter- Nimy & our mannequin- Jack.

Again, I am going to admit that it has not always been smooth sailing, often because of my boorish behavior. But the fact remains, the best times & the happiest times, the most magical times & the times I have been most content, have been made more so, because I shared them with my Husband. I have spent half my life with this man. 4 cities, 5 dogs, 3 near breakups, & yet today we start our 32nd year as a couple.

Today in Post Apocalyptic Bohemian History

Presented by our agent on the day our house became ours- October 8th, 2001. Click on the image to enlarge.

Living in our beloved little cottage in the Wallingford neighborhood of Seattle, we loved to visit Portland for shopping, dining, & adventure. In the late summer 2001, before the world changed forever, the Husband & I were in Portland visiting friends. We had recently been given news by our very good friends, former next-door-neighbors, & landlords, of a sizable & shocking rent increase. Shocking, because we had lived in the cottage for 15 years, paying low rent, but improving the property with major construction, new windows & doors, decks & walkways, & a stunning & imaginative garden that would stop people who were passing by.


The rent increase was offered up by our landlord friends, a couple who we spent holidays with, traveled with, & gave our hearts to. They had explained that since their move to Mexico, the landlords felt that they were forced to get the best possible rent & no longer afford us a “deal”. Distressing news in any light, but complicated by the announcement that they would also be doing major construction, jacking the 700 square foot hovel up to accommodate their new mother-in-law unit. They would use the new daylight basement apartment when they were in Seattle.


The Husband & I were none to thrilled to pay almost twice as much to live in a major construction zone. After 15 years, we began to question improving someone else’s equity, & we began to explore the possibility of owning our own home. I took a one day class on house purchasing. When we received notice that the amount of our pre-qualified mortgage would get us nothing in Seattle (we could possibly get a studio condo way north or south of the city), we were disheartened.


We loved our house & our neighborhood. The Husband & I had a 20 year history in Seattle. We had decades worth of friends & acquaintances. We had employment, friends, & memories. Discussing our situation while driving around on a visit to Portland, the Husband bolted from our automobile in order to grab the flyer from the Plexiglas holder on a for sale sign of a sweet Portland Victorian with a rose garden. This only confused us. Had the listing left off a zero? You could purchase a quality home on Portland, Oregon for $160,000? We felt as if we were in a haze as we motored around Portland. The Husband suddenly demanded- “stop the car, pull over, pull over! Oh my God, oh my God… we are gonna move to Portland!?!”


I came to ask a handsome interesting gentleman on Gay.com for suggestions & advice about moving & living in this beautiful & cool city. This man insisted that the1st step to relocating to Portland would be to engage Celia as my real estate agent. Celia, along with her charming girlfriend, remain friends to this day. She never seemed to mind picking me up in the morning at Portland’s Union Station, showing 10 houses, & getting me back to the train in time to go back to Seattle.


After a few tries of this method, I knew that the Husband would need to be involved in this important life decision. He joined me for 2 days of house hunting. We hated every house we viewed. We were completely discombobulated, not feeling that we lived in the Seattle cottage & not visualizing living in Portland. Celia, the agent: “well based on all the houses you have seen, which one can we get you into? I am not going to be able to show you your dream house. You need to get into a home, let it increase in value, & in a few years we can look for your next one, taking our time to you find that special home”. Hmm… we didn’t know that it worked like that. We chose the house that seemed to be the best blank slate; the cleanest, least offensive residence that we could move into being householders.


We picked Post Apocalyptic Bohemia. We made an offer, then a counter offer that was accepted by the seller. We didn’t love the house. We cried. The Husband returned to Seattle, & gave a month’s notice at his job. I continued to travel by train between the 2 cities to deal with the business of house buying.

The front door & walkway, summer 2010

9 years ago, on this very day, our house closed & I received the keys. I went to the Title Company office with Celia. I was shaking & crying as I signed paper after paper, as myself, & then as the Husband, as his power of attorney. It was frightening & emotional to purchase our 1st home without my man by my side. To add to the emotion, the next day was our 22nd anniversary, & we would not be together. He was living in our old world & I was starting my 1st day in our new world, but we were separated by 3 hours & a ton of doubt.

When I Get Up Each Day, I have No Idea What I Am Going to Write About

I had been using a computer for more than a decade, & I was proficient at Excel, Word & Publisher, I could negotiate my way around shopping on line, downloading music & finding porn, but I didn’t know about the world of blogs until the 2nd half of 2008. I had Googled a subject matter that took me to a blog & I was immediately gobsmacked. This blog was a daily journal sort of thing that documented the life of a hot young American guy, living in Ireland with his hot doctor boyfriend when he wasn’t going out to sea on the ship that he worked on. This blog was butch (the author was obsessed with pugilism & football) & very gay (naked men & lots of same sex kissing). I still read this blog: American Irish. Soon I was reading about 10 blogs everyday & I was fascinated to get to know people from around the world & bits about their lives & their opinions. Little did I know what I was in for.

For years, I had been in the habit of challenging myself to do something different, & shake things up on the occasion of my birthday in early January. On January 3rd 2009, I vowed to start a blog. I had no idea how to proceed & it took me until the 24th to make my first post. I had challanged myself to do 1 post a day for I year. I failed miserably, with just 2 posts in January & 3 in February. I felt I had lived a fairly interesting life so far, meeting & working with some very talented people, living in several great cities & traveling to even more. I had deeply loved & been with the same man for almost 30 years…but I had no idea how to put my experiences into words that would engage a reader. My 1st posts were about my Husband, my dogs & our house. I didn’t tell the husband about the blog until March 2008 & he was, at the start, none too pleased, & he made me change a few things in my initial post about him. My very 1st comment from someone was on this very post.

Then I decided to celebrate the birthdays of famous gay people that mattered to me. I enjoyed the research & the connection I felt to these figures, but the Husband suggested that my posts were too verbose & encyclopedic. I began to streamline & put the emphasis on why these famous figures mattered to me.The Husband has the eye & the temperament of a good editor. The posts improved. One day, the Husband left a complimentary comment, & I was thrilled.

 Because of the blog, I have taken some flack from people in my life, mostly saying that I am way to candid & too open about my life & opinions. Someone once mentioned that the posts were always love- “ with you it is just love, love love”. But yeah, that was the idea… a celebration of what matters the most to me. I think the writing improved, the posts came more easily to me & I started having fun by having relationships with other bloggers.

Bloggers love to get comments & I started to note what sort of posts generated the most comments. I never geared a post toward the goal of garnering more comments, but I did notice that the most comments were on the posts that were the most personal. I also that discovered that I had many readers that never or rarest left comments. I was actually surprised & immensely pleased when my dear friend LJSM (whom I met doing theatre 26+ years ago) told me that she read me, but would save up for a week so that she could have a bunch of posts in 1 sitting. I found out that WCK3, who is often mentioned in posts, reads it almost everyday. Of course there is the bewilderment & heartache due to a small handful of major players in my life that NEVER look at it! I am torn between- “hey, reading the blog is not a requirement for my friendship” & “fuck you, this blog is my baby”.

I can honestly say that having Post Apocalyptic Bohemian has made me feel more authentically myself at exactly the time in my life that I needed it the most. I have made some very dear blogger friends. I have met 2 of them in person & was thrilled to be in their company & meet their spouses. I reviewed a favorite book- Someday This Pain Will be Useful To You & the author- Peter Cameron wrote me a thank you email. I did a post about one of my favorite recording artists from the 1980s- Karla Di Vito & she left a comment on the blog! I had record label write that they liked my music reviews & could they send me recordings to consider? & best of all, I was finding my voice.

A Few Of My Own Favorite & Most Personal Posts:

http://nopoboho.blogspot.com/2009/07/25-years-ago-today-my-best-day-ever-so.html

http://nopoboho.blogspot.com/2009/11/never-face-facts.html

http://nopoboho.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-life-is-david-lynch-movie.html

http://nopoboho.blogspot.com/2009/09/one-ringy-dingy-born-on-this-day.html

http://nopoboho.blogspot.com/2009/07/reflections-on-my-garden-in-summer.html

http://nopoboho.blogspot.com/2009/07/mr-steve-goes-to-town.html

574 posts, 84 followers & 29,750+ hits since I started counting in April… today is the 1st anniversary of Post Apocalyptic Bohemain. Thanks for having me. I am grateful. I'll drink to that!

October 9th

Thank you, Readers, for you kind comments & good wishes. One of my favorite bloggers- Alex commented that he liked seeing the old photos. Here is one circa 1982 (a favorite era of mine) with our daughter- Nimy & our mannequin- Jack. You can tell that the husband & I fully embrassed the 80s. Note: the Husband still has the 29 inch waist that we both had during this period (we actually had one wardrobe & shared all our clothing), but I have filled out just a bit since then.

30 Years

We circled around each other for a couple of years. We were in the same group of friends & we did a lot of theatre projects together. He says that the first time he saw me, ironically his wife pointed me out while I was crossing near them in a restaurant, he knew at that moment that I was the ONE. I didn’t much care for him at first, actually. He was devastatingly handsome & jaw droppingly talented. He possessed a painful shyness that manifested itself as being cold & aloof. We very slowly started to become friends. I remember once being in the parking lot of a theatre where we both were employed , & my saying- “it is too hard to reach you. It is not worth it. You are too much trouble to try & be friends!" I was trying to reach him. It was not easy... but we slowly started to connect.

He had come by my apartment on the pretense of working on some theatre stuff. I was so in love with him at this point that I couldn’t breathe in his presence. For about 6 months, there had been some little signs. Our fingers would linger while passing a joint. We would catch each other in a sustained glance. I was thinking of moving to another city because I could not stop thinking about him, Day & Night. Night & Day. He was all I could think about.

On October 9th, 1979, in the late afternoon of a beautiful autumn day, we told each other that we were in love with each other. With uncustomary restraint, we waited 24 hours to be intimate.

I am going to admit that it has not always been smooth sailing. The last 3 years have been particularily rough, often because of my boorish behavior, but not exclusively my fault. But the fact remains, the best times & the happiest times, the most magical times & the times I have been most content, have been made more so, because I shared them with my Husband. I have spent half my life with this man. Today we start our 31st year as a couple.

This is what was playing on the stereo on October 9th, 1979, as we admitted that we were smitten with each other: A Little Touch of Schmielsen In The Night by Harry Nielsen

Musical 8 Ball... Just Ask A Question

The Husband & I will be marking our 30th (!) anniversary in a few weeks. I am trying to find a way to celebrate & make it a special day while still adhering to “the new austerity program”. For our 5th anniversary, friends in Seattle reserved space in front of the giant fireplace at the Sorrento Hotel. We had drinks & cake & then we were presented with a room for the night… very romantic. On our 10th, our very good friends/ landlords/neighbors-Margo & Robert threw a party or us on our adjoining decks. They collected a large group of friends, neighbors & acquaintances to celebrate with drinks & food & a lovely speech by Margo. They then gave us a gift of a night at the beautiful Inn at Langley on Whidbey Island. We had champagne in the huge spa tub. Yummy. On the 15th we were in Venice as part of a 2 week stay in Italy… extra romantic. We rented an apartment for a week in NYC for our 20th. We spent the day walking around the city; we stood on the very top of the World Trade Center (not the observation deck, but the rooftop!) at sunset & watched all the buildings in mid-town turn pink, orange & red. After an amazing dinner at Boom! in SoHo, we taxied to the Upper East Side & saw Barbara Cook in her cabaret act at the St Regis. For our 25th anniversary, we went to one of our most favorite cities in the world- beautiful Vancouver BC, where we got married in the presence of our dear friends Ken & Eiric, on a rooftop with a view of skyline & then we drove to Seattle where our neighbors Paul & Cammi threw a big shindig with our friends & family who came from all over. It was a beautiful & very special day. But how do we mark our 30th?


I am afraid the readers will think this is nutty, but I have a little ritual all my own. When I get seated on the MAX train, I take out my Ipod & choose “shuffle”. I then close my eyes & I ask the mighty & powerful Ipod a question & the answer is the song that comes up when I push play. It is sort of a musical 8ball. It is often uncanny. I recently asked it about my money woes & the song was Cyndi Lauper doing Money Changes Everything. I'm not kidding. On Tuesday I did the ritual asking the question- “what can I do to make the anniversary special?”. The song/answer that came up was Dean Martin doing That’s Amore. What could that possibly mean?