By Alex Berger
Spring arrives on March 20 and it is decision time for me. Do I write a column about gardening or love? Ay, that's the question. Since my idea of science fiction is Better Homes & Gardens, and my rock garden died last Tuesday, I'll opt for love. “I think that I shall never see, a poem as lovely as a tree” (Nor shall my column.) I have often been asked how I met, and finagled, my Gloria into marriage. Good question. So, I will tell-all, warts and all.Spring is the soft season, the sunny season, the season of wondrous anticipation. As every reader must know by this time, I was born in a tenement on Manhattan's teeming lower East Side, the second youngest of eight children. Through the years, one by one, each sibling found a loved one to marry and left the homestead. It wasn't long before I was the only one left. Of course, I dated many girls, but I convinced myself that my prime responsibility in life was to take care of my mother and I would forever remain a bachelor.I know when winter departs and spring starts by the music-box that tinkles in my heart.However, Mom would have no part of this plan. “Alex,” she said, “You must find yourself a nice girl and marry as your brothers and sisters have done. I want you to have a life of your own.” “But, Mom.” “No! Go out and find another nice daughter-in-law for me.” So with marriage now on my mind, I began dating in earnest, but none of the girls I met were right for me. Was I too discerning? Sister Anna, the actress, got into the act and arranged a blind date for me with a girlfriend of her neighbor. She turned out to be Gloria. At first, I was apprehensive because Gloria lived in the Bronx, and I, 100 miles away, in Lower Manhattan. But with coaxing from Anna, and Mom, who said, “Love at first sight is a labor-saving device,” I agreed to call.Spring is a feeling of warm, new sun. I picked an expensive French restaurant in Manhattan for our first date. After all, I had to impress her, didn't I? So I aimed my rickety, 12-year-old, Peugeot automobile toward the Bronx. I was lucky. I found parking, Gloria's little dog didn't bite me, and Gloria was ready on time. She also happened to be a very pretty girl.Springtime is – Rustling, rippling, flutter, flap; bubbling, billowing, crackle, crack. Stirring, whirring, slither, snap; blowing, flowing, tinkle, tap. Rolling, tolling, rip, rap; singing, ringing, zip zap.With Gloria aboard, the car made it to the restaurant and we had a delightful time. However, shock of all shocks, when the waiter presented me with the check, I reached for my wallet and it was not there. I had forgotten it. Oh, no! I surmised that this mishap would be the end of our relationship. However, Gloria, very understanding, paid the bill with her “mad money.” Mortified, I drove her home and I thought our relationship was at an end. But Anna again advised me to call. I did and apologized profusely. Miracle of miracles, she agreed to a second date. This time, my wallet and I arrived at her house where I reimbursed the money I owed her and off we went on a second date. All went well.The best thing about spring is that it makes baseball a secondary sport. Saturday nights were Gloria nights from then on. However, after most dates, I would get a flat tire going home on the West Side Highway. Did you ever change a tire on the busy West Side Highway at 2 a.m.? I knew I couldn't keep doing this. So I came to a momentous decision. Since I couldn't afford to buy new tires, and I couldn't afford to keep getting flat tires, I gave Gloria an ultimatum, Either move closer to me or she accepts my proposal of marriage and we move to Queens. On Sept 1, we will have been married 45 years (I was a child groom). I was glad that I made those many trips to the Bronx.Spring is wonderful. It makes you feel young enough to do all the things you're old enough to know you can't.So, readers, that's our love story on how I met and lassoed Gloria into marriage. And, Mom was right. It is indeed more preferable to be a happily married man than a cranky old bachelor. And besides, if I had remained a bachelor, I would never have been blessed with two fine sons, two wonderful daughters-in-law, and four adorable grandchildren. Thanks, Mom.
