The true story of how I met my wife
Part One—The Storm
I met Lydia in a blizzard.
Every winter in Toronto, along with the rest of southern Ontario, there is the snowstorm. That is the storm that drops enough of the white stuff to close roads and schools. During this once-a-winter storm, the authorities tell everyone to stay inside, except for emergencies. That, to me, has always sounded like good advice.
On Sunday, February 21, 1993, as I looked out the window of my parents’ townhouse into the backyard, I realized that today’s snow storm was going to be that snow storm. By mid-afternoon, with no let up in sight, I decided to call my friend, Veta.
After a few rings, she picked up. “Hello?”
“Hey, Veta. It’s Grant.”
“Oh, hi Grant.”
“I guess it’s canceled, eh?”
Veta and her friend Lydia had arranged for a group of eight of us to see a play called, Love Letters at Massey Hall in Toronto. Lydia, who lived in Toronto, was to have invited three friends from there while Veta did the same in Mississauga, Toronto’s western suburb where I lived. I was one of Veta’s invitees. I figured the weather had put an end to that plan.
“No, we’re still on.”
I paused, trying to cram into my head the insane idea of a twenty-mile drive through a blizzard to see a play—an obvious non-emergency.
“Have you looked outside?” I asked, “There’s three feet of snow on the ground and more falling.”
“I know,” she said with the same disinterest as if I had told her that it looked like some clouds were moving in. Her tone of voice indicated that there was no change in plans. We were still going. The mental shoehorn was having difficulty wedging that elephant-sized concept into my little noggin. Yet, finally, I acquiesced.
“Okay,” I said, “but we should leave early. I’ll come by your place around 5:30.”
The play was scheduled to start at 7:00 p.m. and we would have had better than a half-hour drive in good weather, so I thought the buffer would be more than enough time.
“Okay. Sounds good.”
We said our goodbyes and hung up. I looked out the window at the falling flakes. Stay inside, except for emergencies. By the end of the evening, I was to have a deeper appreciation for the wisdom of that advice.
|Part Two—Can You Drive? >|
17/Mar/2007 – Beginnings, Part One 8 comments