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July 13, 2005
Sunday Afternoon Around the Corner from the Park with Robert
The continuing saga of how I met, fell in love, and pursued, pursued, pursued—you get the idea—Karen until, well, it's a megillah.
The scene thus far: Karen is on the couch being interrogated by my mother, AH. My father is pacing, jingling the change in his pocket, an habitual gesture which continues to this very day.
Enter my sister.
"Caron this is Karen."
Yup, the love of my life has the same name as my sister.
Caron (sister) gives Karen (not-yet-wife) a friendly greeting. Caron (sister) scopes out the situation in a fraction of a second. Caron (sister) sits down with Karen (not-yet-wife) and my mother, and joins the conversation.
The sound of the change in my father's pocket seems to grow even louder. I look over at Karen—you can figure out who's whom, right?—and shrug. My apartment is genuinely tiny. Take six paces in any direction and you hit a wall.
Karen and I are no longer lost in our magical conversation. Now Karen is politely talking with my mother and my sister. My father has switched on the teensy-weensy black & white portable television to watch the Yankee game — but don't worry, the coins in his pocket continue to chime.
And now the doorbell rings. Again.
My Aunt Pearlie, my mother's youngest sister, makes an entrance like Bette Davis. Hugs and kisses are exchanged. Aunt Pearlie studies Karen so carefully I'm pretty sure she's going to take whip out a microscope for a closer view.
"So, Rob," (Note: some people in my family feel it's their G-d given right to call me Rob, sometimes Robbie. Who am I to argue?) "So Rob, who is this lovely young lady?"
"This is Karen Singer. We went to Yeshiva Flatbush together."
"Rabbi Singer's daughter," my father notes without tearing his eyes away from the TV.
"A Ph.D student at Ferkauf," my mother quickly adds.
HELLLLLP, I silently scream.
"Very pleased to meet you, Karen," says my beloved Aunt Pearlie.
Karen smiles and shakes my aunt's hand. Pearlie gives me a look which says: Marry this one or I will personally disembowel you! At least I think that's what the look expresses. Or perhaps I'm just projecting. And Karen? She's looking, well, a bit uncomfortable, if not downright confused.
Aunt Pearlie positions herself to the left of Karen. My mother and sister Caron are to the right. Good grief, they've got Karen surrounded!
ALL SOUND FADES:
All I can hear is my HEARTBEAT thump, thump, thumping in my chest like a galloping horse. The light coming through the window is so bright my head starts to ache.
My eyes focus on Karen, she is poised, talking with my mother, my sister, my aunt, but every once in a while her eyes shift towards me and beckon me to return to planet earth.
I step towards Karen. I must remedy this situation which started out so promisingly and abruptly turned so... weird.
And believe it or not, the doorbell rings. Again. Who could that possibly be?
I swing the door open.
"Hello cutie-pie!"
There stands G. She's a lovely girl from Boro Park. We have (ahem) a complicated history. She's got a blazing head full of reddish blond hair, deep sea-green eyes, and when she speaks Yiddish you do a double take because it's a bit like Rita Hayworth speaking the mama lashon.
Remember the scene in A Night at the Opera, the classic Marx Bros. film where the stateroom just overflows with bodies? Well, the resemblance is startling.
G. sweeps into the room. I introduce her to my mother, my father, my sister, my Aunt. Smiles all around.
I break into a cold sweat.
I look at Karen. Karen looks at me. I try, oh how I try and convey to her that G. is, well, not the one. I have this impulse to confess to Karen that I love her, that I have always loved her, that no matter who I've gone out with she, Karen, has always been the love of my life.
But of course, I'm not insane. Well, maybe just a little. How else to explain falling irrevocably in love when you are nine years old—in fourth grade for crying out loud—and never getting over it?
I introduce Karen to G.
G. smiles.
Karen smiles.
You know how women smile at each other but the smiles are really daggers? Well, that's what is going on here. But squared to the 10th degree.
There is perfect silence in my perfectly tiny apartment. Karen and G. gaze at one another for what seems like an eternity. Karen is still stuck in that couch. Meanwhile, G. has maneuvered herself so that she's standing right next to me. In fact, her hip whispers against mine. She's making sure that Karen sees this.
Karen abruptly stands up. How she manages to move this fast, extricating herself from the vacuum-like couch cushions is a wonder of modern physics.
"I think it's time for me to go," she says in measured tones.
I excuse myself and accompany Karen outside. I decide not to say anything about G. I'll deal with that later. I cut to the chase.
"Will you go out with me?"
"When?"
"Tomorrow. Let's meet after work?"
"Yes."
Karen gives me her phone number.
I enter my apartment. My mother looks at me. My sister looks at me. My aunt looks at me. My father looks at the ball game on TV.
G. crooks her finger, beckons me to a join her in the galley kitchen.
Oh boy.
To be continued...
Karen Adds: When "another woman" showed up, I really got confused, and although not doubting Robert's interest, felt quite uncomfortable, and there was no question the scene had to close. This was an instance where a woman's intuition and split second timing was essential. Before I could articulate words, my body extricated itself from the couch, almost gracefully, and I said, almost in a dignified way, "I think it's time for me to leave." and I made my exit. Just like Robert wrote. There was nothing else to be said or done.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at July 13, 2005 08:17 AM
Comments
Seraphic Secret is private property, that's right, it's an extension of our home, and as such, Karen and I have instituted two Seraphic Rules and we ask commentors to act respectfully.
1. No profanity.2. No Israel bashing. We debate, we discuss, we are respectful. You know what Israel bashing is. The world is full of it. Seraphic Secret is one of the few places in the world that will not tolerate this form of anti-Semitism. That's it. Break either of these rules and you will be banned.
I just sat here at my desk at work, during my lunch hour, grinning stupidly as I read this story. To hell, with Harlequin (shhh...don't tell them I said that; their paychecks help pay for my trips!) romance novels, your story reigns supreme!
BTW, is that your Tante with whom I share a name?
Posted by: Pearl at July 13, 2005 10:04 AM
Actually, this is a different tante. I have two tantes who I am very close to.
Posted by: Robert at July 13, 2005 10:21 AM
My Mom, A"H, loved to read Harlequin novels. she would go to the library and check out a stack full, and breeze right through them.
It's good to have romance...and as a divorcee, I enjoy this saga, since it gives me hope, I will meet my true b'shert one day.
If my future romance is anything like this..I assure you I will share it.
Looking forward to the next episode....
Posted by: Lance at July 13, 2005 12:32 PM
Lance:
Karen and I thank you for telling us about your mother's AH, reading habits. What a vivid image! We like to think of "How Robert Married Karen" as the Harlequin/Jewish/Seraphic/Romance--whew! Anyway, you've told us where you live and we realize that single life in your city though growing is still a tough nut to crack for Jewish singles. We sincerely hope that you too will find your bashert and that you too will be creating a blog titled: How Lance Married ---- (fill in the blank).
Posted by: Robert at July 13, 2005 12:50 PM
Actually my Mom, A"H, was a voracious reader....up until an eye ailment made it difficult for her to read....
Nothing beats a good a book to find escape or just pure enjoyment.
Posted by: Lance at July 13, 2005 01:10 PM
Lance: Did your mom listen to Books on Tape? Some of the readers are just wonderful.
Posted by: Robert at July 13, 2005 01:55 PM
Hey, Robert,
You just gave yourself an idea: The Hebrew Kid and the Apache Maiden as a recorded book. Hmmm, which fine cast of Hollywood folks could become Mama, Papa, Ariel, etc.?
Posted by: Pearl at July 13, 2005 02:03 PM
Pearl: Our research indicates that kids do not buy recorded books. Look on the bookshelves of your local book stores. The only recorded book you will find in any volume is Harry Potter and a few other fantasy books. Kids, believe it or not, like to read. Thanks so much for thinking the thought.
Posted by: Robert at July 13, 2005 02:34 PM
Like Pearl, I've also been sitting at my computer (in my case, at the YU library supposedly working on a paper) grinning, giggling and sighing. What fun!
Keep 'em coming.
Sara
Posted by: Sara at July 13, 2005 03:09 PM
This is a good story.
Posted by: Jack at July 13, 2005 03:23 PM
Sara: Good to hear from you. Now get cracking on that paper!
Posted by: Robert at July 13, 2005 04:21 PM
Jack: This is not a mere "story." It's the truth.
Posted by: Robert at July 13, 2005 04:22 PM
I can't wipe the huge grin off of my face. This is just so beautiful. (I feel like I was in the room, too)!
P.S. My children call my sisters "tante", too.
Posted by: Stacey at July 13, 2005 06:05 PM
Stacey: Robert and I are thrilled that we can give you so much joy. Stay tuned.
Posted by: Karen Avrech at July 13, 2005 06:24 PM
Hi Robert/Karen,
Forgive me if my prior comment sounded as if I doubted you, I do not. I find the story of how you met and ended up together to be quite compelling.
You do an excellent job of illustrating a deep and powerful love. My grandparents have been married for 71 years. They met when they were 11 and now 80 years later are still together.
I have a strong appreciation for other couples that share that kind and lasting kind of love. It is a beautiful thing to see.
Posted by: Jack at July 13, 2005 11:21 PM
It occurs to me that Karen's decisive move served several purposes, even if she only understood this intuitively at the time:
1) it ended a stand-off and excruciating social experience.
2) it gave her an opprotunity to find out how serious and assertive Robert was - was he going to stand next to his girlfriend and just watch Karen leave, or DO something? It forced him to choose.
3) given that he did follow her into the hall, it gave them an opportunity to make further plans in private.
Posted by: Yehudit at July 13, 2005 11:48 PM
I just had to get out of there, but who knows!
Posted by: Karen Avrech at July 14, 2005 12:36 AM
Jack: You should right up the story of your grandparents.
Posted by: Karen Avrech at July 14, 2005 12:38 AM
Hi Karen,
I have written about them a few times, but I haven't been real pleased with how the posts have come out. Sometimes words are inadequate.
Posted by: Jack at July 14, 2005 08:42 AM
Jack: I have written about the poverty of words on numerous posts. Especially when it comes to Ariel.
Posted by: Robert at July 14, 2005 08:52 AM
Yehudit:
Karen and I agree that your evaluation of the situation ia 100% on-target. You should hang a shingle and go into business as a therapist. You are one preceptive lady.
Posted by: Robert at July 14, 2005 08:53 AM
Perhaps this would be a useful tool in marriage counseling...for each to write the story of "how we fell in love", remembering and renewing feelings that were once unencumbered and sweet. Just a thought...thanks for story.
Posted by: Randi at July 14, 2005 09:09 AM
Randi: As a therapy tool. Hmmm, I don't know. Our story is so out of the norm that I believe most people will simply see it as a fantasy. In fact, many readers have compared it to a Harlequin Romance. In marital therapy, couples have to bear down on the nitty gritty of day-to-day existence. As for writing about feelings, well, most people cannot write. Take a look at the most basic interoffice memo. Usually, a document as impenetrable as the Rosetta stoine was for generations. But, who knows. Marriage, love, and relationships are the ultimate mystery. As always, thanks so much for your thoughtful comments.
Posted by: Robert at July 14, 2005 09:39 AM
Robert,
Regarding Pearl's suggestion for the Hebrew Kid being made into a recorded book - you said there's really no market for children's recorded books - but how about for adults? I would buy it and my pigtail years have been long gone :) Just a thought :)
Most sincerely,
Rachel :)
Posted by: Rachel at July 14, 2005 11:38 AM
Thanks, Rachel, for seconding the motion. When Robert pointed out that kids do not buy books on tape, I thought that he had a point. But his answer also jarred me a bit, because I realized that when I'd made the suggestion, I hadn't even been thinking of children, but rather of adults as the listening audience -- I thought adults might enjoy HEARING the story as well as READING it.
There are also visually impaired children who are a niche market for such products; or a tape could accompany the book in the bookstores; or it could also be marketed for the classroom. Robert told me a number of months ago that certain schools in the L.A. area were going to add the book to their syllabus; perhaps a tape could be an additional learning tool or a substitute learning tool...
Posted by: Pearl at July 14, 2005 12:26 PM
A book on tape would enhance an already fantastic book. Imagine getting someone who has some really good voice talents. Short of a movie it would make the book leap to life.
Posted by: Lance at July 14, 2005 12:55 PM
Rachel: We have not yet sold enough copies of Hebrew Kid to justify the expense in producing a book on tape. If my readers would help spread the word to their friends, schools and synagogues, and we could sell more copies of the book, well maybe a recorded book could be something we could look at in the future. Thanks so much for the thought.
Posted by: Robert at July 14, 2005 04:48 PM
Hi Robert...what I meant was, for couples to write their own "how we fell in love" story...to help bring them back to a time when they were unencumbered with the nitty-gritty of daily existence. Many years later, couples often forget how and why they fell and love, and could benefit from the reminder. (just as a tool, not a solution of course, for marital difficulties). And if I may beg to differ, your love story with Karen is anything but fantasy...it is quite "real" and inspirational.
Posted by: Randi at July 14, 2005 05:08 PM
Randi:
Sorry, i misunderstood. Glad you think our story is inspirational. I guess I'm just too close to see it as anything but, well, my life.
Posted by: Robert Avrech at July 14, 2005 05:48 PM