Once they met I'm guessing the attraction must of been pretty strong because they wrote each other twice a day. She in upstate New York pursuing her Masters in music, while he pummeled through Chaucer, and Congreve down in Harlem at Columbia.
He always said they met because she looked just like his old girlfriend in France ( WW11 had just ended). And he took it upon himself, to come up and tell her so while she was playing the piano at a party. As an adult I began to question the description of their meeting- and wondered what woman would tolerate a line such as that? Apparently, she was not only unimpressed, but also told him his pick up talents were sorely lacking. Now, that I believe.
This is my favorite picture of them. My father always said it summed up their relationship perfectly. He's orating on about something, only to turn and discover my mother was sleeping. She always handled him effortlessly.
After my mother got sick the pictures, and the stories were few and far between. My siblings were left to try to cobble the truth together, or something that looked like it.
Thank you for sharing the memory snippet with your readers. The stories, the truths, and what we make of them - the past is part of us.
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