Thirty-four years ago today I met Emily. The next day she met my family at the Passover Seder. We’ve been together ever since. Thirty-four is my lucky number. Long story, perhaps for another time. For now, the number merely needs to be celebrated along with the joy that has filled my life because of Emily’s constant presence all these years. We’ve both grown, matured, evolved, celebrated and mourned milestones, confronted near death, nurtured our shared experiences, and maintained our individual identities.
I told her as soon as I realized that our bond was serious (which was about a day after we met) that in any healthy relationship there was a Me and a You and an Us. I said that out of fear that our rapidly escalating closeness was going to drown out the time and space I needed to be the Me who first captured her love, and who I needed to keep my own sanity (always a challenge for me). Fortunately, Emily embraced the concept. She had her own Me that she didn’t want to lose, and that I didn’t want her to lose.
That formula worked: Me + You + Us = Long, happy life together. As a former math major, I can attest to its accuracy.
How did it all begin? I thought you’d never ask. It all began with a “Once upon a time.”
“The Ballad of Ken and Emily”
Once upon a time in the little town of Lansing
While others were making love or together gaily dancing
A young man sat at home so no one else would notice
Contemplating loneliness while sitting in the lotus
Why am I alone again he asked the mystic candle
This solitary feeling is more than I can handle
I think sometimes that loneliness is how my life is fated
He closed his eyes, said “Om,” then sadly meditated
A ring disturbed his vacuously comfortable feeling
He gathered up his body parts; his mind fell from the feeling
To bring his brain in focus he gently massaged his head
He lifted the receiver and this is what he said
“Hello”; nothing too heavy, then again he had no knowledge
Of who or what was calling, had it ever gone to college
Could it grasp elusive concepts, could it deal in abstracts
Was it grounded in simplicity or could it handle facts
Could it tear apart an engine without getting its hands dirty
Was its age preadolescent or was it over thirty
Was it male, female, or neuter, had it ever read Thoreau
As yet he had no answers so that’s why he said hello
“Is Mary there?” it asked him, and he knew it was a she
The voice pitch was the clincher, there was no discrepancy
But regardless of the gender the answer was the same
“She isn’t home,” he answered. “By the way, what is your name?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” she said. “I’m Emily. You’re Ken?”
Her accuracy stunned him. “Will you run that by again?”
“It’s not so complicated; I’m a friend of Mary, too
We work in the same agency, she told me about you
“And if you aren’t busy will you listen to my plight
I want to talk to anyone; it’s been a crazy night
I know that I can trust you and I needn’t feel wary
Because Mary is a friend of mine and you’re a friend of Mary.”
He listened to her story, this is what she had to say:
“My lights went out, my TV blew, the old man left today
Not that I mind his absence, he was getting in my hair
He offered little substance, his demands were most unfair
“And I don’t mind the lack of lights although I have no matches
I feel secure, the doors are sealed with padlocks, chains, and latches
But without my TV I feel nauseous in my stomach
From missing General Hospital, and, worse, the Unknown Comic
“And now that I’ve informed you of my tale of despair
I feel a whole lot better, not superb, mind you, but fair
You’ve allowed me to release the thoughts that cluttered up my mind
I hardly even know you but your ear has been most kind
“I never could have hoped for such a thorough mind unclogging
I’d merely called my friend to ask if she would join me jogging
But now I’ll let you go because my tale of woe is through
I’m sure you’re very busy and you’ve other things to do”
It’s moment such as these that often change the course of history
The reason is so obvious it needn’t be a mystery
For though she was correct, he had no time for acts extraneous
He also knew reality is that which is spontaneous
“Pray tell,” he said, “don’t go. Where do you live and is it far?
I’d like to know you better but, alas, I have no car
And although I’m normally a pretty hyperactive fellow
I don’t feel quite like jogging for my yoga’s left me mellow”
“I live,” she said, “on Elvin Court, a residential street
That leads to a dead end by where the Army Reserves meet
And I know where you live, with my friend Mary on Jerome
I’ve visited her often in the comfort of her home
“The walk is most refreshing; it will not leave you exhausted
And it isn’t far enough for you to fear being accosted
I’d love for you to join me so to lighten up my mood.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said. “I’ll bring the weed and you the food.”
And that’s the way it started, that was how it all began
With a brief phone conversation ‘tween a woman and a man
And a TV that malfunctioned and a bulb that wouldn’t light
And a three-block walk to Elvin on a cool and starry night
And a bottle of Chablis and some good homegrown Lansing Green
And a love-at-first-sight evening like the world has never seen
And no one would believe it for they had no way of knowing
That thirty-four years could transpire and their love would still be growing
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