Normally, the following words are included in a HallMike Card© and aren’t so, well, public. But today, April 29, I am 2,500 miles away from the recipient of this love note and sometimes you have to improvise. Besides, I don’t mind telling the world – or at least my weird little world – how much I love Mrs. Laz on this, her birthday.
I first met Mrs. Laz in a swimming pool at Mesa Community College Institute of Technology. Technically I first saw her in my Astrology class (or Astronomy, I never know the difference), but I didn’t get to know her until I made the connection between the class and the pool.
Now if I am being really honest, I likely first saw her in 1973 at a swim meet while she lived near L.A. and I lived in San Diego. After we were married, I came across an old program I had saved from a swim meet in Chula Vista that her team had traveled to when she was 16 and I was 17. When looking at the program a decade later, I discovered her name, and, as it turned out, she swam in the same lane as me the heat before. This means I would have watched her climb out of the water as I was likely doing something goofy (like putting a rubber ducky on my starting block). Who could have known back then that I was within inches of my future wife and that she would end up marrying someone who had a rubber ducky?
Back at the Big U in '75, Mesa Tech had a first-year swim team and had yet to form a women’s team. So the regents, janitors, or the whim of the times demanded that women have the opportunity to swim with the men’s team. This was good news for the men on the men’s team – although we had a good deal more boy in us than man.
I think it can be said without fear of contradiction that Mrs. Laz was the prettiest girl on the Mesa team (although that doesn’t sound quite as poetic as the Prettiest Girl at Penn as Candace Bergen was known). Nevertheless, when boys are being boys, we’re competing for the prettiest girl and despite already being promised to be promised to another girl, I joined in the competition with enthusiasm, hubris and the desire to make her mine irregardless of previous promises. I turned on the charm and whit and before long I was in the running. I was torn by my promises and the twinkle in the young eye of Mrs. Laz. She was my Anne Boleyn but I didn’t possess a King’s decree to axe (metaphorically speaking) the other woman. But the other girl did axe me shortly thereafter, allowing me to court Mrs. Laz.
Skipping past the fact that Mrs. Laz had a boyfriend named Gomez and decided to spend the summer of 1976 in LA with him, I pined for her return back to the Big U in the fall. My memory may be failing me about this but after about two years of being played off Gomez, she could no longer resist my stalking and agreed to become my girlfriend and, later, my wife.
From that point, Mrs. Laz deserves some kind of medal; most likely a Purple Heart. She’s endured my countless bad jokes told multiple times, endless teasing, too many dreams of greener grass, political diatribes, marrying into a family that defines the notion that only the good die young, having to hide the chocolates, several addictions to computer games, musical instruments, and other oddball hobbies, and now, going on my fourth Seven Year Itch. I’ve only had to endure being loved for all these faults.
I first met Mrs. Laz in a swimming pool at Mesa Community College Institute of Technology. Technically I first saw her in my Astrology class (or Astronomy, I never know the difference), but I didn’t get to know her until I made the connection between the class and the pool.
Now if I am being really honest, I likely first saw her in 1973 at a swim meet while she lived near L.A. and I lived in San Diego. After we were married, I came across an old program I had saved from a swim meet in Chula Vista that her team had traveled to when she was 16 and I was 17. When looking at the program a decade later, I discovered her name, and, as it turned out, she swam in the same lane as me the heat before. This means I would have watched her climb out of the water as I was likely doing something goofy (like putting a rubber ducky on my starting block). Who could have known back then that I was within inches of my future wife and that she would end up marrying someone who had a rubber ducky?
Back at the Big U in '75, Mesa Tech had a first-year swim team and had yet to form a women’s team. So the regents, janitors, or the whim of the times demanded that women have the opportunity to swim with the men’s team. This was good news for the men on the men’s team – although we had a good deal more boy in us than man.
I think it can be said without fear of contradiction that Mrs. Laz was the prettiest girl on the Mesa team (although that doesn’t sound quite as poetic as the Prettiest Girl at Penn as Candace Bergen was known). Nevertheless, when boys are being boys, we’re competing for the prettiest girl and despite already being promised to be promised to another girl, I joined in the competition with enthusiasm, hubris and the desire to make her mine irregardless of previous promises. I turned on the charm and whit and before long I was in the running. I was torn by my promises and the twinkle in the young eye of Mrs. Laz. She was my Anne Boleyn but I didn’t possess a King’s decree to axe (metaphorically speaking) the other woman. But the other girl did axe me shortly thereafter, allowing me to court Mrs. Laz.
Skipping past the fact that Mrs. Laz had a boyfriend named Gomez and decided to spend the summer of 1976 in LA with him, I pined for her return back to the Big U in the fall. My memory may be failing me about this but after about two years of being played off Gomez, she could no longer resist my stalking and agreed to become my girlfriend and, later, my wife.
From that point, Mrs. Laz deserves some kind of medal; most likely a Purple Heart. She’s endured my countless bad jokes told multiple times, endless teasing, too many dreams of greener grass, political diatribes, marrying into a family that defines the notion that only the good die young, having to hide the chocolates, several addictions to computer games, musical instruments, and other oddball hobbies, and now, going on my fourth Seven Year Itch. I’ve only had to endure being loved for all these faults.
Essentially we grew up together and learned how to become young lovers, young parents and young orphans. We realized early that money, or lack thereof, can be a cancer that can metastasize in all areas of your relationship if you’re not careful and committed to each other and that when all is said an done, once we were within the walls of our home, we were safe from all the negativity of bad jobs, bad bosses, bill collectors, and democrats.
We raised two wonderful kids who turned out so well that we must have done something right. We beam pride at nearly everything they do and the odd things is, I thing they’re proud of nearly everything we do. You can’t get much more fortunate than that.
It may seem as though this narrative has drifted from honoring Mrs. Laz on the anniversary of her birth. It’s really not, though. Her life has been defined by her relationships; from her deep symbiotic connection to her mother, her endless love for me all the while rescuing me from a life of lost hope, her devotion to her children, and even a soft heart for a number of tough-to-love pets.
She’s like the Magic Johnson of relationships; her presence makes the lives of those around her better. When things seem out of sync she’s able to fit life back in a neat package. She can be counted on to shed bittersweet tears from a heartfelt connection to schlocky TV shows that shamelessly pull at but a few heartstrings. She has more adventure in her than she would ever let on, but she’d rather be curled up in front of a fireplace. She’s a sucker for what she calls “trashy” novels but is an avid and quiet reader of fine literature.
I’m lucky enough to be one of the few who know these little things about her and even luckier to wake up next to her nearly every morning, just not this particular morning. Waking up in spirit is not the same and I think she’d agree.
Mrs. Laz, April 29 some number of years ago was the day an angel was born and all of us in your life are lucky you were sent to us – especially me.
If I could, I would write you one heck of a love song. But that’s a tricky bit of wordsmith and requires a certain amount of talent and an ear for poetry. With the excuse that it’s getting late on the East Coast, I’ll borrow these lines from Leon Russell to let you know how I feel:
I've been so many places in my life and time
I've sung a lot of songs I've made some bad rhyme
I've acted out my love in stages
With ten thousand people watching
But we're alone now and I'm singing this song for you
I know your image of me is what I hope to be
I've treated you unkindly but darlin' can't you see
There's no one more important to me
Darlin' can't you please see through me
Cause we're alone now and I'm singing this song for you
You taught me precious secrets of the truth witholding nothing
You came out in front and I was hiding
But now I'm so much better and if my words don't come together
Listen to the melody cause my love is in there hiding
I love you in a place where there's no space or time
I love you for in my life you are a friend of mine
And when my life is over
Remember when we were together
We were alone and I was singing this song for you
3 comments:
It would be even better if I could fix the format problem. Henry, help me! And remember your wife's B'day, will ya? Even if it does seem to skip a few years.
By the way, Mrs. Sladed, happy Hawaii 5-0. I don't know how I will manage that milestone.
Laz,
Well the happy tears have dried so I am able to write this response. Nice words and thanks for writing them and even more thanks for feeling them. I am lucky in ways I know I would never be had I not met you, you have been a gift to me and I can't begin to thank you for the life we have made together. Why did I get so lucky?
Love you forever and ever,
Mrs. Laz
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