Paul & Heidi
“Ashley wants us to…”
I am leaning over the sink eating chocolate marshmallow ice cream I just cooked 10-seconds on high so that the ice cream is soft and the marshmallow is sticky.
It is my safe zone, eating over the sink, and yet Barb is behind on the family room couch talking to me when all I want to do is be a chocolate marshmallow-er.
“…meet the parents.”
I am trying to eat FIRST only marshmallow, then chocolate, which to be honest takes patience to perfect this time honed skill. “What parents, what did she do, is she still on our car insurance.”
“…HIS parents.”
I am 66 years of age, I have two metal and concrete hips in my ass, I have a hiatal hernia on my belly that looks like a doorbell, 30% of the time when I bend down to pet the damn dog I end up blacking out and falling on him, I have hemorrhoids every Monday, Wednesday & Saturday, my 401K is now a 104K, my truck averages 18mpg when it’s parked in the driveway, I can’t find my reading glasses unless my reading glasses are on my face to find my reading glasses and all I want to do is eat Chocolate Marshmallow Ice Cream over the gawd-damn sink.
“Whose parents.”
“Jake’s parents.”
“Who the hell is Jake, and why the hell do I have to meet his parents, what did Ashley do now.”
“Um, she said, yes.”
“YES TO WHAT.”
“His marriage proposal, hon, you know, that Jake, the Jake you said could marry our daughter.”
“Oh,” sometimes in life you can focus too much on chocolate marshmallow ice cream, this would be one of those times.
Of course, in the family room on the couch without any ice cream in sight, Barb says nothing, which you can either let the silence hang there some, or you can answer…
“Tell Ashley we’ll meet them at the wedding.”
…and many times when you answer the silence, it is indeed the very, very wrong answer.
For some reason…
…meeting “The Parents” has never gone well for me…
…don’t know why that is.
My first, “The Parents,” I met was when I was 16 and “The Parents” opened their daughter’s bedroom closet door and found her…and me…in it…with some clothes on hangers and some, um, not on anything.
Then there was the State Trooper who pulled me over on the NYS Thruway for driving my chopper at a high rate of speed only to shockingly be “The Parent” of the young lady on the back of the bike.
Possibly the worst meeting, almost hall of fame worst possible meeting of “The Parents,’ was facing a sitting Circuit Judge in the morning only to see him once again, this time standing in the doorway of the home of the young lady I came to pick up and to whom she referred to as, “Daddy.”
BTW, this is how “The Parents” of Barb saw me standing at the altar waiting to wed their daughter…
…same sport coat, different turtleneck, sans the shades.
Yep, not a great history of this meet “The Parents” business.
Paul & Heidi
To meet “The Parents,” I have come to their town, to their favorite restaurant. My wife is sitting next to me, close enough to kick me under the table or elbow nudge, Ashley is on Barb’s other side. (Barb’s Note: This is wrong, Ashley was sitting next to you at the table)
Facing Ashley is Heidi, Jake’s mother, Jake is sitting next to his mother facing Barb, on his other side, facing me across the white linen table cloth, is his father, Paul. (Barb’s Note: This is all wrong Heidi sat across from me at the end of the table, you sat across from Paul in the middle of the table and Ashley sat across from Jake).
Paul is a sturdy, not fat, built man with a full head of large black hair. (Barb’s Note: It’s Brown)
I am not, that.
I am a short wide guy with flesh colored skin up top and white scraggly hair on the side with wisps of some of it in the back.
Paul is smiling at me, I am not smiling at Paul.
I only smile at Barb, the rest of the world can wonder.
Barb and Heidi are smiling and talking about the kids, I don’t hear much of it but I do feel that as the conversation goes on between them Barb is feeling more and more at ease, later in the truck on the ride home Barb tells me, “I like her, she used to teach school, Kindergarten I think, she stopped but has gone back for the kids as a paraprofessional. They’ve sold their home on Long Island and are moving back to New London to the house she grew up in, it’s just around the corner from the kids’ house.”
Beyond Paul I can see the waters of the Long Island Sound, the table is set with plates that will break if dropped, glasses that sing if you rub your finger around their edge. (Barb’s Note: It was nice casual nothing really fancy)
The spoons are straight, the knives are heavy, there are two forks per person. As Paul smiles at me the waitress who smells of fish fry and baby powder silently places a silver basket of warm rolls down in the middle of the table.
We have said our hellos, said our nice to meet ya’s, we have shaken hands, so far that is how it goes. (Barb’s Note: We all hugged but you.)
All is pleasant, polite, a meeting of strangers who soon will know of each other for the rest of our lives. Strangers destined possibly to love the same grandchildren, destined to send birthday and holiday cards, destined to ask one of the kids, “How’s Don/Paul/Heidi/or Barb” until there isn’t any Don/Paul/Heidi/or Barb.
The smiling man with the large build and large black (BROWN) hair smiling at me is not just some random dude I’m having dinner with, that man who 10 minutes ago was a complete stranger is now a few months away from being…family.
I’ve met thousands and thousands of strangers over the almost 40 years I’ve been in the biz of meeting strangers and turning them into stories, interviewed thousands, and make no never-mind, this is only part dinner, it’s also part interview, I know that and I’m guessing Paul knows that because over the same amount of time he also has met thousands of strangers, interviewed thousands as well.
I am a trained investigator and interviewer.
And so is Paul.
I am an investigative reporter.
Paul is Dr. Paul Brody.
I cover crime, write about the mindset of those who don’t follow the rules or break the laws.
Paul, is a Psychiatrist, he deals in the mindset of others too.
And as Paul picks up the basket of warm bread and passes it my way, I take out a nice warm roll, nod my head his way, and smile.
Jake is soon to have a father-in-law who has been a reporter longer than he has been alive.
Ashley is soon to have a father-in-law who has been a Psychiatrist for longer than she has been alive.
As we sit across from each other in silence, in this our first meeting, in this the first few minutes of what will be this new family of ours a sense of calm comes over me, a sense of softening of his eyes and brow comes over him, and in silence between us there is a feeling, an almost palatable feeling of two guys who have spent a lifetime of the quick measure up of folks, a feeling of “ya we got this,’ a feeling of “ya it’s ok.”
And so over white linen and almost fine china this first step, the first dance of “The Parents,” is one of harmony, for this dinner we are about to be served is not about Paul and Don, nor Barb and Heidi, it is simply and only about Ashley and Jake, the two young adults also sitting at the table with us.
For it is those two, and only those two who through their love for each other will make all who sit at this table this day as strangers…
…become soon, family. (Barb’s Note:…she just smiles.)
