Do you believe in love at first sight? Before the personal computer and long before e-mail, life was a lot simpler. Here is a true story of how fate, a book and a friend brought two people together. Although they didn’t know at the time, the seed of love had been planted and the end result was inevitable. Only the names have been changed (sort of) to protect the trio in this story.
Our courtship was a rather whirl wind affair. My wife Rosie and I had met through my former girlfriend, Viola. Rosie and Viola were close university chums. Viola wanted to play a practical joke on Rosie and she enlisted my help. The plan was to meet Rosie after she finished her part time job at a major department store. It was the pre-Christmas shopping season and Rosie was short of cash and was too proud to let her parents know. So, being the independent person she was, she opted to work in the book department during the Christmas rush to earn some extra spending money. All this was in addition to her full time attendance at university.
Viola had described an amusing incident about a chap who came up to Rosie while she was working at the store and asked her if she had Freckles (a popular book at the time) and Rosie assumed he was asking about blemishes (hers). Her straight-face answer was, “No, but I have a beauty mark.” The misunderstanding was the cause of much riotous laughter at their student residence and for numerous occasions thereafter. Viola’s plan was to have me play another not-so-innocent book buyer and ask the same question. Although Rosie had heard of me from Viola, we had never met. The trap was set up and ready to be sprung on a busy Saturday night.
The chosen evening arrived. Viola and I approached Rosie at her sales desk moments before quitting time. Viola hid herself behind a large book display in order not to miss any of the proceedings. I brazenly went forth to bluff my way through what I thought was the best practical joke to come along for some time. Rosie turned out to be a petite brunette with a decidedly similar look to the beautiful and gamin movie star, Audrey Hepburn. I was so taken by her attractive personality that I almost fluffed my line. Finally, I managed to ask her if she had Freckles. She turned her enormous, dark eyes towards me with a slightly startled look. She laughed as she explained what had happened only a week before. The counter was quite busy, but I kept up an ongoing patter as she processed the line of customers with their purchases. I used this time to try to ingratiate myself with her. I could see by the look in her eyes that she was wondering why I hung around after she told me where to find the Freckles book.
As she finished with her last customer, she began putting away items on the counter and straightening up. She politely mentioned that she was expecting a friend to pick her up and that perhaps I should be on my way. I perversely ignored her suggestion and continued to speak about any topic that came into my head. Finally, Viola arrived from behind the bookcase, feigning ignorance as to who I was. As Rosie led the way to the staff locker room to collect her coat, purse and boots, I heard her whisper to Viola that she couldn’t get rid of me. Viola continued the conspiracy by introducing herself to me and brightly asking me to tag along with them, much to Rosie’s consternation. I could imagine from Rosie’s expression that she thought, “What’s got into you, have you flipped?” That’s when I summoned what few acting skills I had and turned on my obnoxious personality. I laid it on thick how smooth I was and the dozen or so girlfriends I had. Viola gave me a strange Dr. Frankenstein type look. Her eyes almost screamed, “Good God, I’ve created a monster!” I, on the other hand, reveled in my new machiavellian persona.
We ended up at the Fifth Avenue restaurant. We were five hundred miles from New York City but the eatery’s owner hoped the allusion to the Big Apple would attract customers. I found out it was a favourite spot of Rosie’s because, according to her, it served the best fried mushrooms in town. Viola and I ordered coffee while Rosie indulged in her favourite dish. I continued the charade for another fifteen minutes until I started to giggle and then lost my composure completely and ended up laughing uncontrollably. From Rosie’s viewpoint, this only proved that I was totally weird and a somewhat deranged escapee from a mental ward. I could see her sitting with her back against the the tall, mahogany booth, ready to leap into the aisle at a moment’s notice. Viola came to the rescue when she finally admitted, “Sorry, this was all a setup I arranged. I want you to meet Rolf.”
Rosie was stunned, as well as relieved, that her friend had not flipped, after all, and that the obnoxious newcomer might have some positive points. She was a good sport and laughed with us at our prank. We three got on very well the rest of the evening as we rehashed the events and my outragious fabrications.
It was perhaps a few months later when Viola mentioned that she would like to try skiing. At that time, I was an avid skier, one of a large group that drove each weekend out to ski country. Our caravan of automobiles would snake its way through inclement weather without a care. We would return windblown and ruddy of complexion and completely exhausted. I recall one weekend when, one by one, the entire group begged off for a variety of reasons. The weather that week-end was particularly severe. A heavy snowfall was followed by sub-zero temperatures. I was so dedicated to the sport that I decided to go off on my own. The slopes were beautiful indeed, but the wind coupled with the low temperature plus the downhill wind burn, was brutal. I managed only 5 single runs stretched over a few hours, with time out to warm up in the chalet between runs. Because of the bitter cold, there were no lineups at the lifts and it annoyed me that I couldn’t take advantage of the situation. I returned home content that I had braved the cold even though it got the best of me in the end.
The skiing jaunt with Viola included her friend Rosie. I had not seen her since the evening of the practical joke and she looked ravishing. Viola’s nickname for her was Mudface – which she was anything but. That Sunday the weather was a far cry from my deep freeze weekend. It was an idyllic spring ski outing of sun, blue sky and corn snow. Viola and Rosie were beginners and I patiently explained how to snow plow as a means of slowing down to stop. I would leave them to practice and take a few fast downhill runs. This time, however, the line ups and crowds were very large. At the end of day, we headed back home tired but exhilarated.
A short time later, Viola and I broke up. I thought about Rosie several times in the months following the break up and one day, on the spur of the moment, I invited my two best ski friends to drive down to Bedford Falls to pay Rosie a surprise visit. By this time, Rosie had completed her degree at university and was teaching French at the high school she had attended only a few years earlier.
My surprise visit set the stage for the gradual budding of our relationship. Soon I was regularly calling long distance and travelling the 70 miles to see her. I also inundated her with mail where I used my flare for graphics to decorate the many envelopes. I hoped Rosie was amused, but I’m sure the mailman was not. It was the late sixties. The Beatles were the rage and I was one of the first of many imitators to mimic their longer hair style. It was my contribution to the anti-establishment flavour of the times. That and the wild clothes. As a new teacher and one of the first of the new wave of young people to enter the teaching profession, Rosie made waves of her own with the conservative staff. She now sported a chic, new, very short, French hair style that matched her equally short mini-skirts. The buzz and glances of disapproval of the older staff were not well hidden. The final blow came at the school prom. Teachers were expected to attend to give support to the students. Rosie invited me and I eagerly accepted.
On prom night, Rosie wore a stunning dress of hunter green damask with a velvet bodice and a plunging square neckline. I wore my new black Italian leather suit with matching tie – very different and very with it at the time. The prom was held in the school gym. A good choice since the high ceilings took care of the raised eyebrows without any difficulty.
Rosie and I were married 12 months after my spur-of-the-moment visit. Oh yes, and Viola was in our wedding party and Rosie in hers. All in all, a happy ending.
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