How I Met & Married Anita

September 10^th, 2005

Before I begin the story I will tell you that Anita and I were married on November 24th, 1954, on Thanksgiving. This is the 51st year of our marriage…

It was about 3 months after getting back from army duty in Germany and my social life was very dull, as my entire old crowd had drifted away. So, my brother-in-law Murray, who took lessons from “Yenta the Matchmaker,” thought it would be a good idea if I was invited to his friend’s wedding, and the bride and groom (Barbara and Herby) were very happy to do so. They had plans for me to sit at a “singles” table, surrounded by beautiful young ladies. It looked like a win-win-win situation. So, even though I knew none of the people, I let myself be coerced into the deal, like a fox lets himself be coerced into a chicken coop.

Anita, a brunette, was at the table and I noticed her as the prettiest, but I took aim at a flighty blonde who I will call “Easy Rita” or in my imagination, “Easy Rider.” When it came time to leave, I offered to take Rita home, and she came along like a puppy dog. Well, what happened after I got her home can be summed up in 1 word. “Nothing!” Maybe she had a headache, maybe she had too much to drink or maybe it was me. The last I heard, she married a rich Hungarian, and on their honeymoon they visited his native country and he donated a tidy sum to restore a Jewish cemetery in Budapest. Give me a break!

It was two weeks later, Easter Sunday; I got up my nerve and called Anita. I cannot remember now where, when, or how I got her phone number and I hardly expected her to remember me, let alone accept a date for dinner. But she did, and we went to P.J. Clarke’s in Manhattan and enjoyed the best steaks in New York. I remember what captivated me and sealed the deal that afternoon; it was the hat. Anita wore a black hat with a huge brim that made it look like a flying saucer, but very feminine and stylish.

Well, as if you didn’t know, this is being written 52 happy years later (after 3 children and 5 grandchildren). Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying there weren’t days that Anita and I both wished we had not attended that wedding, but we soon kissed and made up.

Here’s a postscript: Herby and Barbara who were married that fateful night, are to this day, our dearest friends, and here’s a belated “thank you” to the marriage broker, my deceased brother-in-law Murray, (who, by the way, was also Hungarian).