Go Away……

A friend of mine from my childhood years resurfaced through social media fairly recently. I suppose this is actually one of the positive things about social media. The ability to reconnect. Hopefully it’s with someone you are happy to hear from. In this case for me, it certainly was.

Lenny Falcone, who was a year ahead of me in school and went on to become a lawyer, has also become an author. I think initially he was more surprised than anyone about someone wanting to publish his work. This unforeseen opportunity somehow triggered Lenny to reach out to me, after reading several of my blogs and knowing my story since childhood. He thinks I have a book to write. Perhaps, just a series of short stories. He encouraged me to begin with my childhood love story. So here is my first short story describing the circumstances leading to my first expression of being in love.

It was June , 1975. I was on the cusp of my 8th grade graduation from Nativity BVM, a private elementary Catholic school. One of the traditions for the graduating class was a trip north to Rye Playland. It was an amusement park about 35 miles north of the school, which at that time in my life, seemed like journeying to the hinterland. 

I should point out, the school was located in Ozone Park, Queens, NY.  It was a lower middle class, Archie Bunker type of neighborhood, with closely packed homes that had railroad rooms and often front stoops that were the warm weather season gathering spot. If you lived there you were pretty much either Italian or Irish with maybe a sprinkling of German and Polish. 

On that nearly early summer morning, there were about 100 plus graduating students all gathered in front of the church which was attached to the school grounds. Two big tour buses were pulled up to the curb and ready to take us on this day trip to the park to celebrate the end of eight years with the same group of students, who at this point, felt like family. 

I was hanging with a small group of my guy buddies waiting to board the bus when another friend, a girl, came into my view a few feet away. She was trying to get my attention with a not so inconspicuous flailing of her arms.  She finally succeeded, even though I don’t think any of my friends noticed. She then began to mouth something which I read as, “do you want me to tell her?” “Yes”? At this point I had really forgotten the gist of a phone call I had with her the night before. However, it didn’t take me long to remember.

I think Dolores fancied herself a matchmaker. Yes, an 8th grade matchmaker. We would often talk on the phone about which girl should be with which guy and those that already shared some intimacy. No! Not that kind of intimacy, at least I don’t believe so, but just some kissing. Making out, as the phrase was, became the signature for going out with someone. 

Back to Dolores. The night before the school trip she was asking me which girls I liked. I mentioned a couple I thought were pretty, but one in particular that I liked a lot more.  

I was a very shy young guy.  Especially when it came to girls, although I can tell you stories about those 8th grade Catholic school girls that were a far cry from being termed shy.

The phone call from the prior night concluded with me agreeing to letting her ask this girl, Nancy, if she liked me, and would want to be my girlfriend.  It felt exciting and I was very brave on the phone thinking this would be a great way to ask her out without having to deal directly with any rejection. Yes. Very lame. I never said I was a confident macho guy, that’s for sure. 

In any event, in the excitement of the morning and talking with my buddies I suddenly wasn’t feeling it anymore. When Dolores was doing her final confirmation of putting her mission into action, I just looked at her and gave a dismissive wave of my hand. I was saying, go away and forget about it, without actually saying the words.

Well that didn’t go well with Miss Matchmaker. She stopped in her tracks, shot me a penetrating stare and finished it off with a single foot stomp. It happened over 45 years ago, but I can still close my eyes and relive it. Again, without saying any words, I read it as “are you kidding me!! After everything we talked about last night. I’m making this easy for you and you now want to forget the whole thing? I don’t think so!!”  

I’m not sure she was saying all of that, but that’s how I heard it in my head. So I stopped talking to my friends for a moment and gave her a quick OK. Go ahead with the deed.

As we boarded the bus, Dolores ran up to me to say “well. Don’t you want to know what she said”? I was a little taken aback because I thought she would wait until we got to the amusement park to ask her. No, this matchmaker did not waste any time.

“Ok, what did she say then”, I asked. “She said she likes you”. 

This was like my Rudolph moment when Claris tells him she thinks he’s cute. I wasn’t about to go flying through the air, although I felt like it. My buddies weren’t likely to knock my nose covering off either. For those who don’t know what I’m talking about, I apologize, but go and watch Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. 

The other caveat to telling her early, led to my sitting next to Nancy on the bus for the entire ride to Rye Playland. Oddly I wasn’t nervous.  We had hung out at the bowling alley together months before as we belonged to a school league and often walked home together, not alone, but with others. We only lived a little more than two streets apart. Bottom line was, it wasn’t so awkward, conversation was never an issue for us. 

In fact, when I reflect back further on those days I can remember my friend Fitz writing in magic marker on my bowling ball bag, Chris & Nancy. Fortunately the bag was dark blue and the marker black, so most people couldn’t see it. Of course, because it would have been very embarrassing. Amazing how trite things seem decades later.

When we arrived at the park, without saying the words, let’s hang together, we got off the bus and Nancy and I soon reconnected and pretty much spent the entire day with each other. We may have passed on a ride or two each and been separated for a bit, but it was never for very long. The day was getting hotter and I’m not sure if it was from rides, but I was getting queasy and sweaty. Not a great combination to feel when you are trying to impress someone. 

In 8th grade of course there are always things that evolve from a bit of folklore that become the “thing” to do if you’re cool enough. There was a boat ride at the park that briefly went into a dark tunnel. This was the point, where if you were with your girl, you would kiss her. So of course, it was referred to as the tunnel of love.  The actual name was Ye Old Troll Boat Ride. A far cry from sounding romantic. Nothing says young love like a troll on a boat.

In any event, I kept putting off asking her to go on that ride with me. Now it’s getting later into the day and we are going to be heading back to the buses soon to take the trip back to Queens. One problem, I’m laying flat on my back on a park bench trying not to vomit. The tunnel of love or kissing her weren’t exactly on my mind. Getting through the long bus ride without puking, was however. 

So as I’m laying there on the bench and Nancy is sitting with me, another guy comes up to her and asks to go on the boat ride. Now I’m really sick. I’m fully expecting her to say no. However, what do I hear, but this playfully silly response of “OK”! 

Now I’m thinking, does she know what that boat ride is and what’s going to happen in that tunnel. I’m angry and hurt if she did know and said yes. On the other hand I’m nervous and angry with myself if she didn’t and this guy tries to kiss her unknowingly. Was this what growing up was going to be like?  I’m only 14 and already my head hurts from all of the confusing behavior of people. Love seems to be translating into agita. 

So off she went with another guy to “The Tunnel of Love” and while my stomach was flip flopping, my heart began to sink.  Was I kidding myself that she liked me or would want to be my girlfriend? How naive could I have been?  This was only the beginning of these lifetime inner conversations of self doubt I would have. Little did I know, I would become a Hall of Famer when it comes to self doubt and insecurity. 

 About 10-15 minutes went by and I saw her walking back by herself. I thought, well that was fast, love ‘em and leave ‘em. I asked her what happened and she said the line was too long and they never went on the ride. She got a little lost walking back to find me to make sure I was feeling alright. You can imagine how that made me feel. First of all relieved that that other “jerk” didn’t get her into the “Tunnel of Love”. Secondly, it just warmed my heart that she cared enough to come back and check on me. Maybe this is what being an adult in a relationship was supposed to be like. 

OK Chris. Slow down child, shut off the wedding bells. She just came back to make sure you didn’t vomit on yourself.  

We all boarded the bus for the ride home and I began to feel better. We were collectively riding on the high of a fun day to celebrate heading into, quite frankly, the next stage of life. Dum dum dum!!!! High school. More on that in another chapter. 

I once again sat with Nancy on the ride back. For some reason she started calling me “Doobie”. I never really understood why. It certainly had nothing to do with smoking a “doob” at that point in our lives.  I was just tickled that she came up with a fun nickname for me. She must like me if she gave me a nickname already. Maybe.

In the continuing festivities surrounding our 8th grade graduation, we had our big farewell dance a couple of nights later. I was not much of a dancer and some would say today, that is still quite true. No argument from me. I just care less about what you think at this age I suppose. In continuing with the vein of the trip to Rye Playland, I spent most of the night talking to and dancing with Nancy. At first I was very reluctant to dance, but she did this thing where she held one of my hands much of the time, that somehow made me feel more in control and safe from looking too awkward. 

The dance was chaperoned of course by several parents and all parents were allowed to come for the last hour of the dance. I remember at one point Nancy becoming conscious of her mother being there. Let’s just say from that point, things that felt like they were heating up, got a bit cooler. The hand holding dancing came to an end. In fact, in another one of those folklore customs, it was said that the person you danced with to Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” was your boyfriend or girlfriend. However, because you had to dance close, Nancy bailed from me and interestingly enough I ended up dancing with the matchmaker, Dolores, of all people. 

I remember leaving that dance all sweaty but flying higher than a kite on a windy day.  I was starting to have that funny feeling in my stomach every time I thought of her. Butterflies and a faster beating heart. I wasn’t really sure what this was, as it was the first time I really experienced it. I do remember closing my eyes as I would go off to sleep for the next few weeks and seeing her as I danced on that night.  June 19th, 1975. Little did I know that this would be my soulmate for the next nearly 41 years.

Yes, this dance partner of my 8th grade celebration eventually became my wife and mother of my children.  Much more to come about that journey. 

Later in life I reflect upon that morning out in front of Nativity BVM church. What if I waved my hand a second time at Dolores to forget about asking Nancy if she was interested in me? What if Dolores didn’t stomp her foot in persistence forcing me to give her the green light to ask? In the scheme of life this doesn’t seem like a big event.  In fact it feels rather small and subtle in action. Little did I know how great it would be in impacting the rest of my life. Easily enough, we could have gone our separate ways and never connected again. I went off to a large public high school and she went to a private all girls Catholic High School. If we didn’t make that connection at the end of 8th grade, perhaps our lives would be so entirely different. At times it’s mind boggling to take that line of thought and try to project forward. It often gives me anxiety to think about that. Then again, what doesn’t give me anxiety?

So thank you Dolores for your persistence. Thank you for not taking my dismissive wave as an answer. That simple exchange set forth a path of destiny for so many people connected to our story of friendship and love. A love story that lasted more than 40 years. Like many others, it wasn’t perfect, but it often felt that way. It was our love story, and it was beautiful, even with a couple of thorns thrown in. Two other amazing human beings came out of that love that I hope experience even half of what Nancy and I had in our long relationship. I see her everyday in both of my beautiful grown children.

If you made it this far thank you……Sunshine Always!!!!