Wednesday, September 07, 2011

1968

I am writing this Tuesday night. When I get into bed our queen-size bed will feel much like a king-size as I am sleeping alone. This has not happened too often since I married my Rosemary in Mexico City in 1968. We would separate only when she visited her mother now and then.

I remember one of those trips vividly. We had one daughter, Alexandra and a couple of years later Rosemary made the trip to Ottawa (and from there to New Dublin, Ontario). When she returned  I  picked her up at Benito Juarez Airport. I remember that she was wearing a very tight, and very short orangy/yellow dress. She looked smashing. When we got home, we had a young housekeeper who had put Ale to bed. We were virtually alone. It was then that Rosemary in one of the few times that I can remember since I met her, ravished me. Nine months later Hilary Anne was born. I have a suspicion that perhaps our marriage had not been going very smoothly and Rosemary’s mother had advised her that a quick solution to the problem was another child.

No marriage is perfect but Rosemary and I have been together since 1968 and when she is not around I feel quite lost. In the past when I traveled for magazine assignments and annual reports I discovered that my fairly coldish and straight wife tended to be warm and passionate on the phone. We have had very nice phone calls in our years together.



As I sit here writing, I am trying to count the few blessings in being alone for the next week. On my way back from the CN Train (and bus) Station I stopped at Safeway and bought a package of 9 chicken wings. I slathered them with Nando’s Piri-Piri and some Mexican habanero hot sauce. I barbecued them along with a one ear of corn and a couple of red peppers that I had dipped in olive oil. I poured myself a very large glass of iced tea and turned on the TV and watched CNN (I was not keen on seeing Steve McQueen in The Blob on Turner Classic Movies). I was sloppy in how I ate the wings.  I must admit I had a good time.  The evening ended with Out of the Past & I Walk Alone.

I am now waiting for that phone to ring. Rosemary will tell me she arrived just fine. She will ask me about her cats and nag me if I watered these or those plants. She will ask me if I put out the blue box and the yellow and blue bags as garbage collection is tomorrow. She will not tell me she misses me and I will not tell her I miss her. But we will both know anyway, and both of us will look forward to the day we are back home on our much smaller queen-size bed.



Rosemary does not like very spicy food so I know there is at least one advantage in being a bachelor for a while.



 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Rosemary and Alexandra 1969

                                                                           

                                                                            

1968, photo by Andrew Taylor