There are many, too many, books and articles on subjects such as how to make friends, how to figure out your calling in life, how to find true love.
I have been happily married for nearly a quarter of a century now. Marriage was not a given for me, not a realistic goal. I am physically challenged and growing up that way in Italy of the 1950s through 1990s, with a bare-bones education, and loving parents who had low expectations of me meant that my prospects for economic stability were poor.
This may sound like an excuse to some, but put yourself in my shoes in a sleepy, semi-isolated mountain village and you may get an idea of how it was for me and others like me. Girls wouldn’t look at me as anything other than an amusing buddy. Their parents certainly didn’t want their daughters taking up with a damaged “good-for-nothing” like me. And don’t get me started on the school teachers who actually asked me why I was taking up space in their classrooms.
I’m going to now reveal to you how I attracted my wife-to-be’s attention, wooed her, and got her to marry me. I do not offer this as a step-by-step guide because the circumstances were truly unique and I didn’t even know what I was doing.
So my sister has been friends for many years with “Lisa.” When Lisa finally found the man she was meant to marry, she invited my sister to her wedding and reception. The celebration was set for a Sunday in early October 2001.
Lisa is also friends with “Sorcha,” one of my wife’s long-time friends. My wife and Sorcha were college roommates, whereas Lisa met Sorcha back in high school. Naturally, Lisa expected Sorcha at her wedding.
I was visiting my sister, fully intending to return to Italy, when the September 11 attacks occurred. Flights in and out of the U.S. came to a standstill. Aviation throughout the world was disrupted. I had no idea when I could catch a flight back home.
Lisa’s wedding date rolled around. I was acquainted with her, but I really did not want to go to her festivities. I didn’t even have a suit and tie with me. I insisted to my sister that I would stay in her home, no problem. As usual, she paid no attention. She bought me a suit, tie, and dress shoes and insisted, along with her husband, that I attend the wedding with them. Lisa told me that she expected me there.
My will was overcome, and I was not happy about it.
My wife ended up being Sorcha’s plus-one for the wedding. My wife didn’t mind; she had always liked the rustic town where the church and the reception hall were located, and being there on a crisp fall day seemed a pleasant way to spend time with her friend. Plus, Sorcha had always mentioned Lisa, and my wife looked forward to finally meeting her.
My wife later told me that, when she noticed me in the church, I had a sour, hostile expression on my face. As for me, I remember looking around and not seeing any young, nubile females. All the women seemed old to me. Even if someone had piqued my interest, I would not have approached her because my English was limited to a few words, mostly dealing with food (from hanging around my brother-in-law’s pizzeria). And yet, I kept hearing church bells in my head. No, really, I did, even though they did not actually play until the end, when the ceremony was over.
After the wedding, I went to the parking lot across the street from the church with my sister, her husband, their adult children and others. The parking lot was at the foot of a steep, grass-covered hill.
“I bet I can climb that hill,” I said, apropos of nothing. Then I took off and started climbing. My relatives thought I was nuts, and the women especially urged me to turn around and come back down. But I was a man on a mission. I kept climbing, step by step, inch by inch until I arrived at the top. I threw my arms up in the air like Rocky Balboa.
Then, I had to go back down. I have a bit of struggle with balance on flat land. Just imagine me making my way down the steep hill. I accidentally-on purpose fell around a quarter of the way down and rolled down the rest of the way. Except for a few grass stains, I was fine. My relatives thought I had lost my mind.
To this day, I don’t know why I tackled that hill. I know now that my wife-to-be had witnessed my antics from the front of the church. She didn’t consider me crazy. Instead, she thought, “There’s a guy who’s ready to change his life.” To this day, she doesn’t know why she thought that. All we can do is to chalk it all up to fate.
At the reception, she came up to me and started chatting in university-learned Italian. She told me how she and her mother had returned from a tour of Italy on September 8. At one point, she apologized for jabbering on in elementary Italian. I was thoroughly charmed, and I made sure to spend the rest of the evening next to her. I even danced with her, to my relatives’ shock (and embarrassment). That’s something I never did.
I hemmed and hawed about calling her in the weeks that followed. Would she remember me? What could we have in common? Where could we go on a date – I didn’t drive. But I did like her. That must have been obvious because someone called me a fool for not calling her. “What have you got to lose?” he asked.
As you’ve guessed, I managed to call her in spite of my fear. We easily worked out the dating details. We were engaged within a couple of months, married at a city hall shortly after that. I pushed for a church ceremony, so we had that, too – I had not realized how important that tradition was to me. I guess I’ve always wanted what regular people have.
I debated with myself for a long time whether to tell this story. It means revealing something quite personal and precious to my wife and me: our origin story as a couple.
Do you like stories about curses, steamy settings, and alluring people with mysterious powers? Are you interested in the early days of rock and roll and the hard road to fame? E.E. Mazier’s new novel, Johnny Moon and the Black Dog Queen, offers all that and more. Now available as a paperback and on Kindle at Amazon. Some reader reviews: “a gripping read, which captures your attention on the first page and doesn’t release it until the last page!” “The characters stayed with me long after I finished the book.”
Who knew? courtesy of “Anton” and “Mrs. Anton”
ANTON CIRCLES HIS WORLD 