Did you ever notice how some blocks of time don't seem like the same amount that the clock says? Whenever a student who has come back to visit me in my classroom I will usually try to guess, by how many years have gone by, what grade they are in now. I have tried to stop since I now have former students who are having families of their own, and it would be really embarrassing to ask if they are in twelfth grade and have them say, "No, but my son is in kindergarten."
I have already written, in order, about how Sylvia and I met, the fact that it was an arranged marriage, and that ever important first date, (you can click on the links if you've never read them) but I have never written about how I proposed...until now. It has only been a year since I've written about Sylvia and I as a couple, but I suppose to you it seems more like a decade. Funny thing time, I remember that at this time seventeen years ago, today, I was just waking up, in this house, on a twin bed, in the room that my son is sleeping in now.
But back to Sylvia and I. We had been dating for a while and I knew, The big "knew." I wasn't sure if she knew that I knew, but I knew. It was a dating anniversary and I wanted to take her out to dinner. A common occurrence. But I wanted this date to be special so I made reservations at the restaurant that we first went to. Neptune's Palace at the end Pier 39 in Fisherman's Wharf, San Francisco. When I picked her up at her parents' house I pulled up, opened my car door, and found a penny at my feet. As I've said before, I don't believe in luck...but it couldn't hurt. I picked it up. When the door opened Sylvia looked stunning. I went in, said "hi" to Ruth, her mom, got the usual "Hmmmph" from her dad Kurt, and away we went. Her parents didn't appear to know that I knew or that she knew that I knew, you know? I was sure that everyone could tell that I was a little fatter. One tiny box in my jacket pocket fatter to be exact. No one let on.
When we got there I tried to be nonchalant as I could, but I told the hostess that I needed a table by the window since this was a special occasion. It's little things like this that Sylvia likes. They sat us at a table in the corner and I heard the hostess walk away and tell our waiter that the people at table 8 were celebrating. Thanks! I'm sure when she was out of ear shot she said, "And did you notice that he was walking a little funny? It's almost like he has a little box in his coat pocket."
We ordered dinner, Sylvia had a lobster dish that they no longer serve and I ordered shrimp Alfredo. We looked out over the bay. There were millions of sparkles on the water. We talked. The lighthouse on Alcatraz Island shined its light rhythmically. We watched as the sun started to go down. And then I started to get nervous. It wasn't bad enough that there was this little box in my coat pocket that had been rubbing against my ribs all night, now I was starting to lose my lighting. And then time slowed down... Sylvia said, "We... should... order... dessert..." In my head...WHAT!? No! We are not order dessert people! We eat, we get full, we leave! Dessert!? Think Jeff think! "No, I thought we would do dessert somewhere else. Let's walk along the pier."
"Ok, I'll be right back."
As Sylvia went to, ahem, powder her nose, I rushed the waiter through handling the check and gathered all of our things. I was waiting by the front door when Sylvia came back and I hurried, as slowly as I could, out to the rail at the end of the pier. The sun was setting. Perfect. I turned my back to her, reached into my pocket and felt for the box. It wasn't there! Just kidding. It was there. It was so there that I had nearly pounded a dent into my chest from checking. With my hand in my pocket I turned back to her and said, "I got us some dessert." And then I pulled out the box of Cracker Jacks that I had been hiding in my jacket all night.
I know, I know...I've been teasing you all along. I am aware that you thought I had a tiny velvety ring box in my pocket. That is so not me. I handed it to Sylvia as casually as I could and she started to open it. Did you ever notice that Cracker Jacks boxes are nearly impossible to open? I am certain that they are made by the same company who makes safes, panic rooms, and the black boxes on airplanes. Sylvia had trouble with this box. So she turned around, put her elbows on the rail, and held the box over the bay as she tried to pry into it.
Speaking of prying into it. At about this time, seventeen years ago today, my elderly great aunt, Ev, who was visiting started calling for help through the bathroom door. She was ok but had locked the door and now it wouldn't open. The lock had broken. We didn't have time for finesse at this point. We pried it open with a monkey wrench on the doorknob. Sorry about that. Back to the bay.
I couldn't take it any longer. I said, "You may want to hold that over here. Just so it doesn't drop." She looked at me knowingly and turned back around. Back to slow down time. In reality all of this took about a minute...it only felt like half an hour. Once the box was open she looked and saw that there really was Cracker Jacks inside. She shot me a questioning look. I said, "You don't have to eat that. Look for the prize."
Since you all have figured out where I am going with this I feel I can explain now. In the interest of public service. If you ever decide that it would be a great idea to open the bottom of a box of Cracker Jacks, empty the contents, throw away the prize, and re-insert your own prize along with the food...be warned. No matter how expertly you seal the bottom (and I did do a fantastic job) exposing the caramel corn to the air and then packing it up again will turn it into a somewhat solid brick of inedibly sticky popcorn.
Luckily Sylvia found the little envelope I made, tore it open, and pulled out the very real, very non-Cracker Jack, engagement ring. I took it from her, I placed it on her finger, and asked her if she would marry me. This is where the real slow down happened. She hugged me, she kissed me, she started to cry...she never said anything. People all around us were walking in slow motion. There was a guy who just happened to begin reading War and Peace over to the side. More hugging. More crying. A couple with a stroller walked by. Very slowly. I looked up to window of the restaurant where we just were sitting at table 8. No one was looking down at us. The guy reading the book slammed it shut and said, "Done!" Still Sylvia hadn't said anything! More hugging! So I asked. "I'm guessing you mean....?"
And then she said my second favorite thing ever. "Yes! Yes, I will marry you!"
And exactly seventeen years ago today, in just a little while, we were standing up in front of our friends and family, listening to Ave Maria play through the sound system of the church when Sylvia said my very favorite thing. "I do." Well Sweetheart, on our seventeenth anniversary I would like to say, "I still do!"
I love you Sylvia. Thank you for making me the happiest man on earth.
I have already written, in order, about how Sylvia and I met, the fact that it was an arranged marriage, and that ever important first date, (you can click on the links if you've never read them) but I have never written about how I proposed...until now. It has only been a year since I've written about Sylvia and I as a couple, but I suppose to you it seems more like a decade. Funny thing time, I remember that at this time seventeen years ago, today, I was just waking up, in this house, on a twin bed, in the room that my son is sleeping in now.
But back to Sylvia and I. We had been dating for a while and I knew, The big "knew." I wasn't sure if she knew that I knew, but I knew. It was a dating anniversary and I wanted to take her out to dinner. A common occurrence. But I wanted this date to be special so I made reservations at the restaurant that we first went to. Neptune's Palace at the end Pier 39 in Fisherman's Wharf, San Francisco. When I picked her up at her parents' house I pulled up, opened my car door, and found a penny at my feet. As I've said before, I don't believe in luck...but it couldn't hurt. I picked it up. When the door opened Sylvia looked stunning. I went in, said "hi" to Ruth, her mom, got the usual "Hmmmph" from her dad Kurt, and away we went. Her parents didn't appear to know that I knew or that she knew that I knew, you know? I was sure that everyone could tell that I was a little fatter. One tiny box in my jacket pocket fatter to be exact. No one let on.
When we got there I tried to be nonchalant as I could, but I told the hostess that I needed a table by the window since this was a special occasion. It's little things like this that Sylvia likes. They sat us at a table in the corner and I heard the hostess walk away and tell our waiter that the people at table 8 were celebrating. Thanks! I'm sure when she was out of ear shot she said, "And did you notice that he was walking a little funny? It's almost like he has a little box in his coat pocket."
We ordered dinner, Sylvia had a lobster dish that they no longer serve and I ordered shrimp Alfredo. We looked out over the bay. There were millions of sparkles on the water. We talked. The lighthouse on Alcatraz Island shined its light rhythmically. We watched as the sun started to go down. And then I started to get nervous. It wasn't bad enough that there was this little box in my coat pocket that had been rubbing against my ribs all night, now I was starting to lose my lighting. And then time slowed down... Sylvia said, "We... should... order... dessert..." In my head...WHAT!? No! We are not order dessert people! We eat, we get full, we leave! Dessert!? Think Jeff think! "No, I thought we would do dessert somewhere else. Let's walk along the pier."
"Ok, I'll be right back."
As Sylvia went to, ahem, powder her nose, I rushed the waiter through handling the check and gathered all of our things. I was waiting by the front door when Sylvia came back and I hurried, as slowly as I could, out to the rail at the end of the pier. The sun was setting. Perfect. I turned my back to her, reached into my pocket and felt for the box. It wasn't there! Just kidding. It was there. It was so there that I had nearly pounded a dent into my chest from checking. With my hand in my pocket I turned back to her and said, "I got us some dessert." And then I pulled out the box of Cracker Jacks that I had been hiding in my jacket all night.
I know, I know...I've been teasing you all along. I am aware that you thought I had a tiny velvety ring box in my pocket. That is so not me. I handed it to Sylvia as casually as I could and she started to open it. Did you ever notice that Cracker Jacks boxes are nearly impossible to open? I am certain that they are made by the same company who makes safes, panic rooms, and the black boxes on airplanes. Sylvia had trouble with this box. So she turned around, put her elbows on the rail, and held the box over the bay as she tried to pry into it.
Speaking of prying into it. At about this time, seventeen years ago today, my elderly great aunt, Ev, who was visiting started calling for help through the bathroom door. She was ok but had locked the door and now it wouldn't open. The lock had broken. We didn't have time for finesse at this point. We pried it open with a monkey wrench on the doorknob. Sorry about that. Back to the bay.
I couldn't take it any longer. I said, "You may want to hold that over here. Just so it doesn't drop." She looked at me knowingly and turned back around. Back to slow down time. In reality all of this took about a minute...it only felt like half an hour. Once the box was open she looked and saw that there really was Cracker Jacks inside. She shot me a questioning look. I said, "You don't have to eat that. Look for the prize."
Since you all have figured out where I am going with this I feel I can explain now. In the interest of public service. If you ever decide that it would be a great idea to open the bottom of a box of Cracker Jacks, empty the contents, throw away the prize, and re-insert your own prize along with the food...be warned. No matter how expertly you seal the bottom (and I did do a fantastic job) exposing the caramel corn to the air and then packing it up again will turn it into a somewhat solid brick of inedibly sticky popcorn.
Luckily Sylvia found the little envelope I made, tore it open, and pulled out the very real, very non-Cracker Jack, engagement ring. I took it from her, I placed it on her finger, and asked her if she would marry me. This is where the real slow down happened. She hugged me, she kissed me, she started to cry...she never said anything. People all around us were walking in slow motion. There was a guy who just happened to begin reading War and Peace over to the side. More hugging. More crying. A couple with a stroller walked by. Very slowly. I looked up to window of the restaurant where we just were sitting at table 8. No one was looking down at us. The guy reading the book slammed it shut and said, "Done!" Still Sylvia hadn't said anything! More hugging! So I asked. "I'm guessing you mean....?"
And then she said my second favorite thing ever. "Yes! Yes, I will marry you!"
And exactly seventeen years ago today, in just a little while, we were standing up in front of our friends and family, listening to Ave Maria play through the sound system of the church when Sylvia said my very favorite thing. "I do." Well Sweetheart, on our seventeenth anniversary I would like to say, "I still do!"
I love you Sylvia. Thank you for making me the happiest man on earth.
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