Following that, she asked for details and I sent this on July 5, 2000 (with some very slight modifications).
Since you asked here is the scoop...
I am feeling terrible - tremendous stomach pains from Burger King the night before. I would have gone home except that I was the driver for a group of people.
There is a very nice woman who is birding there and sort of tags along with the group. I start talking with her and find that I am actually talking with her - very unusual for shy me. She has a wonderful smile and a wonderful laugh. Her eyes laugh also. I have no trouble talking with her. You know that I can't even talk with people that I have known and here is a stranger who I can tell things that I haven't told others. Really strange. At one point we see a Black-necked Stilt and she says that she likes them because they are gangly like she is. In one of my "brighter" comments, I mumble the immortal words, "Gangly is good" (and immediately get this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach). I find out her first name, Joan, but nothing more - she does mention she is with Bedford Audubon.
At the end of the walk one of my friends makes some comment about her and me and I think to myself "I only wish."
I decide I like Joan very much - no I decide I am totally taken by Joan and I must see her again. I have no idea of her last name. How can I find her? I remember Bedford Audubon. I go to the web and search for Bedford Audubon and find out what trips they have scheduled. I am going to go on every Bedford Audubon trip or meeting until I find her. The next one is May 21 at Jamaica Bay. My birthday! This is going to be totally fantastic, the best birthday I have ever had. It is drizzling on May21 - I go to Jamaica Bay but Bedford Audubon does not show up. I am miserable. I go to record store and buy the new Kathy Mattea CD, The Innocent Years - she is my absolute favorite performer.
(The "Out of the Blue" sound clip should have been playing
when this page loaded -
if not, you can click here
now)
There is one song on it that strikes me. I play it over and over - several times a day, every day since then. Another part of the song is
I can't recall the conversation word for word
It came so easily
Seemed like somehow I knew you,
Makes it all the more a mystery.
That is exactly how it was - the song really hit home.
Next Bedford Audubon trip is to Ward Pound Ridge Reservation for butterflies. I am supposed to call a contact named Joan to make reservations. I call and leave a message on the machine and leave my home phone number and e-mail. She leaves a message on my machine and, more importantly, also sends me an e-mail. Go to the butterfly walk and arrive early. Joan and the trip leader arrive. - Joan had to remind me what happened next. I saw them and got shy and turned around and started looking in the trees for nonexistent birds. Finally go over to them and Joan recognizes me but couldn't remember exactly where she had seen me. I think that this is not a good sign - guess I hadn't made such a great impression. During the walk I am even more entranced with Joan than before.
|
Not in the e-mail but worth mentioning now. Towards the end of the walk, a discussion about SUVs begins. Joan comments that she really doesn't like them, especially the red ones, because they are so aggressive! This conversation occurred just before we returned to the parking lot and I got in my bright red, Ford Explorer. Later on, Joan assured me that my car was merely assertive. |
After the walk, I send Joan an e-mail about how I enjoyed being with her and that it would be nice if we could get together again for birding or something. Joan suggests a bird count the following weekend. I conveniently forget that I was going on a butterfly walk on Long Island with some of my friends on that day. We have a nice time. Joan asks me to see if I can find some other things to do. I find something scheduled for July 15 or 16.
In some of our conversations and e-mails, Joan mentions that it is a wonderful coincidence that we found each other twice. By this time a second Kathy Mattea song has a lot of meaning to me. (There are lyrics in other parts of the song that really fit the situation.) We have exchanged a number of other e-mails and I sort of hinted at things, but...
click for a sound clip of "I
Have Always Loved You"
(Not in the e-mail, but I wasn't so optimistic when I saw this! Click)
I asked Joan if she was doing anything last weekend but she was busy. I didn't want to be pushy but got up the nerve to suggest that we do something on the 4th and Joan says that she could bring her kayak down to Long Island and we could go kayaking there. On Monday, I send e-mails to make plans. She responds, I send more e-mails. In the course of the large number of e-mails we exchanged that day, we decide that we really may like each other (of course I had known that since May 13). I am closing the store early so call Joan just to talk a little about the plans but Joan says that she will have to call me back after she gets home at 6:30.
I start pacing the floor waiting for her call. Joan calls at 6 and after we talk a little while suggests that I come up to watch the fireworks that they are having that night in Stamford. I agree and will spare you the other details but we did do some kayaking and the rest is history. (By the way, I did tell her that it was not coincidence - also played the songs for her and I am happy to say they now have a lot of meaning for her also.)
Text of follow up e-mail I sent the same day.
ps to the long story
Although May 21 was not the best birthday I ever had, July 3 and 4 were the two best days of my life.
I had gone on a butterfly walk at Fort Tilden in Brooklyn that
Joan was unable to go on. A week or two later, Joan and I went back to Fort
Tilden to look for nesting Piping Plovers and other birds. When we went into the
visitors center, the Rangerette who had led the butterfly walk remembered me
and I introduced Joan to her. The Rangerette asked if I had been doing any butterflying lately. Without thinking, I
replied, "No, I've only been doing Joan." Joan, the Rangerette, and
several other people burst into laughter before I realized the "other"
meaning of my words.
Copyright © 2001 by Richard L. Becker