The Memory Of All That

“Hear my soul speak. The very instant that I saw you did
My heart fly to your service, there resides
To make me slave to it “
Dante

Have you ever fallen in love at the mere sight of someone?”  You know that moment, when the angels and the universe seem to sing, no shout, and everything around you falls into a blur? And all you see, all you can focus on is that person? You are suspended, swept up in attraction? Imagine the instant when Dante met Beatrice on the Ponte Vecchio. When Romeo saw Juliet. When Tony first came upon Maria standing across the gym and proclaimed,

“I saw you and the world went away”

It has happened to me. This was the first time…

Berkeley Days

I was 19 years old, a student at U.C. Berkeley. I was immersed in a very difficult major that involved focus that challenged. Most of my classes were small and, as a result, required relentless participation. It was hard, it was glorious, it was CAL at its finest. In order to lessen the stress, each quarter I would take one large lecture as a reprieve from the intensity. I could become lost amongst rows of faces; a silent note taker.  

I remember such a class that I believe was entitled IDS 101. On the very first day, I took my seat mid tier in a cavernous lecture hall.  Suddenly the professor dimmed the lights and started playing John Lennon’s IMAGINE.  It was quintessential 1970s, a time when Lennon was allowed to permeate the halls of academia. Some of the cool intellectuals sitting near me groaned but I listened and lost myself in the lyrics. I am sure they thought me plebeian but I did not care. This was my anonymous class and I could daydream.

And then…there he was.

The most beautiful boy I had ever seen. He stood, rows ahead, smiling and talking to his friends.  Long wavy hair, wire rimmed glasses that framed a chiseled face. Glenn Frey meets Paul Newman. A lightning bolt, take your breath away moment. I watched him take his seat and stared at the back of his head for the entire hour. At the end of the class and for every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon of that quarter, I watched him. I was Juliet peering over the balcony, Maria on the fire escape awaiting.

The Campanile, U.C.Berkeley

And then destiny stepped in. The dream turned real. You know those small, intense classes I mentioned? The real reason I was in college? Well, I walked into one of those requisite mini sessions in Dwinelle Hall and…there he was. For, as it turned out, we were both Pre-law majors and my path, without even trying, would cross with his for many semesters to follow. We had no choice but to speak and get to know each other. Of course, I was ecstatic.

But I am going into too much minutia. This blog is a recollection of falling into “love”. The impact so intense, so indescribably primal, its significance haunts you for the rest of your life.                                                                                                                                   

So…what eventually happened to that boy from Cal? I came to discover that he was in love with another girl who had come first. She was his explosion into love. I have since learned that they married and are still happily living a life that I envisioned for us. Ultimately, it comes down to timing.

As the years and other men have passed, there have been only a handful of equally seismic encounters. And with each, the outcome has ultimately come down to the missteps of choice and place. Someone once told me I should write a book about my crazy single, dating escapades. But I cannot offer anything new. The last man I ever dated (and yes and it was a world stopping, never the same first meeting) actually demanded that I “better not” write about him. Clearly, he was preparing me for his chaos to come.  Author Annie Lamott once wrote: “if people wanted me to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better”. But, really, there is no reason to launch into sad explanations. Again, this blog is about that magic that sustains the spirit inside the soul…long after the gory details have faded. 

Juliet's Balcony

A few years ago, I went to Verona and of course visited Juliet’s house. I read all the lovelorn messages people wrote on the walls of the courtyard, in hopes that she would help each find their very own Romeo. As I toured her home, I came upon a large book that visitors were allowed to write an even more personal plea. I dutifully stood in line. Ahead was a little girl. When it was her turn, she kept asking her Mother, “What should I write?”. It seemed to take forever so I finally said (nicely), “Write anything. You have plenty of time. Juliet will help you. You will find love”. To which she responded, “Have you found it?” Ok, she got me.

I have no answers. I have friends who found “it”. I ask them about their stories and love to hear about their connection. I hope that, as you read this, I spark your remembrances. Or even better, renew the commitment to your continuance. I know that there is a lot to say when “Juliet” answers your wishes.  

Personally, I have accepted that I have become the girl who is always too early or too late for happily ever-afters. Always off step. Some days it makes me sad. Other days, it’s fine and I try to assuage my concerned friends as they question why I live alone. I hear my daughters occasionally slip (albeit with the best of intentions) that they wish I would meet someone so they do not have to worry about me. I watch my doubters shake their heads and smugly sneer. That is what becomes when you get to my age and you are solo in…well solo ANYWHERE.

RIght now, right here, it is what has come to be and it is O.K. And it is blog-worthy to ask about and remember falling in love. Such questioning allows a sweet remembrance of that once young girl who believed and sat in the middle row of her Berkeley lecture hall. On such days in Sacramento…I just hold my breath to recall the surrendered moments, when, with complete abandon, I first read Dante…listened to Frank Sinatra…and saw the boy in IDS 101.

“…We may never, never meet again
On the bumpy road to love.
But I’ll always, always keep the memory of…
The way you haunt my dreams
No, no they can't take that away from me…”
George Gershwin