February 22

Seems innocuous enough, doesn't it? February 22. It's not one of those dates which will live in infamy. If you are a hockey fan, you might note that on Friday, February 22, 1980, the US National Hockey Team beat the Soviet Team in what was called the "Miracle on Ice".

Some of you might also know that George Washington was born on February 22, 1732.

But more significant to me was a Saturday, February 22, 1986. My best friend and I attended a United Synagogue Youth dance that evening, as we did on many Saturday nights from 1985-1988. This particular dance was held at a synagogue in our neighborhood in NE Philadelphia (many of the dances took place all over the Philadelphia and South Jersey region; we had school buses hired to bring kids to and from the different locations). The synagogue was called Congregation Ner Zedek, and we'd never been there before.

I remember attending the dance with one young lady to whom I was not attached, but who wanted a guy on her arm -- at least at the beginning. These were not formal affairs, but she had a crush on me, so in we went. It didn't take long before a second young lady, whose acquaintance I made a few months earlier, approached me and wanted to dance and chat. Young lady #2 was far more attractive than young lady #1, and so, being a normal 15-year old guy, I happily went off dancing with her.

At one point we were seated, resting, when I noticed another young woman staring at me. She was a stranger, I'd never seen her at any of the dances. All I remember of her were the biggest brown eyes I had ever seen -- big enough to catch my glance from across the room. My dance partner needed to use the restroom, which was outside the dance hall part of the building, so being a gentleman I walked her out. The restrooms were small, and there were several people waiting to use the Ladies' Room. She went on ahead to get into line, and after 10 seconds or so, I felt a strange vibe coming from behind me. Turning, I saw those eyes -- those giant brown eyes, staring again, this time standing a foot in front of my face.

I don't remember how she was dressed (though I know it was conservatively). I recall that she told me she was also waiting for a girl to use the bathroom -- her best friend, who smuggled in alcohol and was getting sick in the bathroom. Charming. But definitely a conversation starter.

We waited a while for our charges, talking a little and sizing each other up (though this wasn't apparent to me until much later), and she asked me to dance. I could no more have denied her at that moment than I could have learned calculus, so into the dance hall we went. Of course the DJ was spinning a slow song (and they always played 3-4 in a row), so we began slow dancing together. I never saw my young lady friend whom I escorted to the bathroom again, but I was told later that she entered the dance hall looking for me, only to see my lips locked with this new woman's, and that was that. Hell hath no fury, but she didn't make a scene or anything, she left us alone.

By the end of the evening we couldn't keep our hands off of each other. Not in a sexual way, aside from the kissing, but in a romantic, human way. That way you feel when you just don't want to disconnect from someone, for fear the magic will end. She was one of the few people who did not rely on a school bus to take her home after the dance; her mother came to pick her up (and her drunk friend, as well). I remember shaking her hand when I walked her to her mother's car, then going back inside to fetch my coat and locate my best friend (I hadn't seen the guy for hours by this point). We walked home.

I remember leaving my coat open for the walk home, despite the frigid air and the light snow that was falling. The snow just added to my mood -- peaceful, content, fulfilled. I'm not sure my feet touched the pavement the whole walk home.

Three and half years later I married that girl, just a couple of miles from where we met. There were many bumps in the intervening years, of course, as there will be with teenagers and teenage angst; with parents who disapprove of their daughter's boyfriend, with a couple that lives 12 miles apart and didn't (at first) have a single car between them. No email, either -- and no texting. Heck, no cell phones!

Twenty five years ago.
A quarter of a century ago.
It seems surreal to me, now. I'm not looking back there, pining for my lost love... I'm looking back there in wonderment at the kid I was and the man I became, and wonder if she'd even recognize me. What I became, for well or ill, in part thanks to her.

When I had my wisdom teeth removed surgically, in the hospital, they knocked me out to perform the procedure; when I came to, I was crying and asking for her (woke up my father, who had fallen asleep in the recovery area).

When I fractured my wrist, she was in the hospital with me until past 5am, so she could drive me home (the fact that she was partially responsible for breaking it might have contributed to her generosity).

Anyway, enough of the Memory Lane stuff. It was good, it was bad, we were kids.
But dear L-rd.
Twenty five years ago.
I just cannot fathom it.