Fever Avenue
How to propose marriage, and Stay Married Forever
Although more than fifty years have passed, the magic moment when Mary Patricia came into my life is so fresh as the morning dew, clear as spring water, and yet as warm as a mild fever.
In my first semester at Columbia College in New York City, with the pressure of the exams on me when I was looking for a secluded place to study, I found myself in Avery Hall, where the music practice rooms were located. magical music of Mozart flowed from one of the rooms, it was the Adagio of the Piano Sonata No. 12.
Of course I learned much later that some information, because in that year, at age 17 – I have no idea who was Mozart had. Noticed that the pianist was playing the adagio over and I sat on the ground just outside the door and listen. Two hours later, the budding concert pianist and determination got me to go, because I was glued to the spot and gave me a quizzical look.
"I did not bother," I said. "What is the name of that song you played for two hours? "
"It's not a song – it's a sonata, and you have been here for two hours?"
Blessed be the Lord! Her voice was even sweeter than the music I had just heard. My musical ignorance, my heavy Spanish accent, and my less than impressive appearance must have gained her confidence, because from that Mary Patricia magical moment and I are inseparable life aliens.
When we were in between classes Mary Patricia and I would either meet or by the sundial in the plane front of Lewisohn Hall. During that year, no day passed without us together and share moments of love. Since our financial resources were thin, a good day We discussed the possibility of joining our assets and thus survive better. And because in those years, "living together" or "Moving with someone" more was not invented, I decided that the solution would be for us to get married.
Without any experience in amorous proposals (not quite 18), and afraid that my nervousness would botch up what would be the most momentous occasion in my life, one afternoon sitting under the old tree I scribbled a few notes on an index card.
Dan if under the spell of a divine guiding force, as we stood under the plane, this is what I read it:
"Since we met, you gave me a better student, a better person: friendly and nobler. And now I have a burning desire to succeed in life, not by me, not because of my family, but because I want you to think of me as a worthy person, worthy of you.
"If I always feel compelled to hold your hand and my arms around you, it's because I want to make sure you are human, that not a vision, an angel, a goddess, or a divinity. The rest I can not imagine my life without you by my side, for you and your music are everything to me now: when I awake I'm thinking of you when I sleep I dream of you, and in my dreams you are my hypnosis, my delirium, and my peace.
After reading my scribbling, and when I went on a knee, I asked Mary Patricia
"Will you marry me, will you marry this poor boy from the Andes, who was born to love you forever?"
Today we enjoy our golden years, their three children and two grandchildren to lavish love and gifts, I feel that – contrary to the free will-the touch of an angel pushes our people in different directions. When Mary Patricia and I talked about the statistics that more than half of people who marry eventually divorce, we are seized with infinite sadness.
I can not imagine for one instant life without my beloved partner.
This is a story told in first person voice, so I can not tell what people's feelings, thoughts and attitude towards life. What follows are some of the canons (for a token home, talk with your spouse, caring for others, Never scream and always friendly to a woman who was a 100% provider, and God among us) that guided my life in my marriage.
Given that Mary Patricia like to eat fruit every day, I made it a point to always bring home an apple, banana, grapes, melons or. Of course I knew she went to the market and took her own fruit. My gesture, but was more spiritual than nutrition is never home empty handed.
Early in our marriage I learned that Mary Patricia wished to be consulted in all my decisions, no matter how small or insignificant. So, I made a promise to myself that not only would I consult with her, but I would consult.
Consulting one I made. Except that one time when I impulsively bought her half piano. Not that they do not appreciate it, but she let me know that she had consulted had told me she would she was pregnant with our third child and that it was time to save rather than spend. And Mary Patricia dropped the other shoe:
"With three children to support and put through Barnard College, you earn more money, "she said.
After all two girls, she was looking for third. "Barnard Why not Columbia College? "I asked, still sounds like the macho man from South America.
At that point in my career (30 years ago) I was promoted to corporate controller and earned a little under $ 100,000 per year. To my mind the auditor, that was a pretty darn good amount. And I found myself a good provider. Speaking of courage overcame my good sense and for a few weeks, I chewed on the cud of resentment at the implication that I do not earn enough money.
Then one day, Mary Patricia noticed my mood swings, said: "Money makes easily come to you when you think of having your not-self. Think about it. I say this because from what I know about your father. "
Indeed, had then I grew up my father drilled into my head two of his favorite sayings: "… when you go to a woman, you think the petal of a rose to touch, never hurt, never cry her or the blooms fade. "" A man is only half-man if he half for his family and half for himself. Think of others and you will receive in multiples of tens and hundreds, if not thousands. "
That did it! I thought of my own beautiful self and not from my loved ones. So I told Mary Patricia I would make my job and I would become an investment banker. Without hesitation she agreed. That same day she went to the Coliseum Bookstore (Columbus Circle, long gone now) and bought the necessary textbooks for me to study and pass exams the registered representative.
That night she gave me the book and I gave her a colorful platter of juicy, sweet, diced melon, honeydew and watermelon – all interspersed with Merlot. To cap the night she played Mozart's Adagio for me that had sent shivers down my spine, that fated day when I saw her first. What I saw in her? I see the face of an angel, or the face of my mother I had left to come to this country? God only knows. If any man has an ideal, the blueprint of a perfect woman, Mary Patricia was and is my "image."
Today, Mary Patricia no longer plays the piano for her arthritis has invaded her legs and arms. Since its debut in Lincoln Center's Alice Tully Hall for her last concert at Carnegie Hall, I never missed a concert. And if a mail carrier nothing – neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night – remained with me. Fame and glory fade, but in my heart Mary Patricia grow performance annealing and stronger with the passing days. With her last concert echoes what sauce in my body, the echoes of the standing ovation and "bravas" filling my soul with joy. The next day, a critic of the New York Times, called her reading of Brahms' Piano Quintet "a blessing from God." How proud I was of my dear wife I did not see as the blessing of God for one day, but for a lifetime!
God laughed Mary Patricia, who smile and spilled over to me because the Good Lord gave me an even greater provider, for my career flourished and I retired a successful banker. We have our children to Ivy schools have college funds for grandchildren, and we live in a large neighborhood with nice neighbors. Mary Patricia, a child of an old aristocratic family from Boston wasp – reassures me that she married when she married me – ". A poor immigrant boy from the Andes"
Last Sunday after church we went to the fair on Madison Avenue, not far from where we live on Park Avenue. To tell the truth, I can not think of a better way to a beautiful glorious afternoon in New York City than in a street fair.
Mary Patricia and I pushed a wheelchair-old chair, because it can not be a motorized one – the entire length of the fair-all twenty blocks.
About the Author
Retired. Former investment banker, Columbia University-educated, Vietnam Vet (67-68).
For the writing techniques I use, see Mary Duffy’s e-book: Sentence Openers.
To read my book reviews of the Classics visit my blog: Writing To Live
What is this song called?
the number in the new Vanessa Hudgens ecko commercial with the red shoes. it goes something like .. Party fever fifth avenue .. or something like that.
"Tickle My Spine" – The Looker
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