I have a bad habit of writing in my head when I am trying to get to sleep.

Very often the title of a post or specific phrases that I will use keep me up well into the wee hours of the morning.

Sometimes I equate these moments to dreaming while awake.

I have had similar experiences while fully awake and with a group of friends. One memorable instance of my waking dream phenomena happened when I was thirteen while attending a Halloween Party out Jeannie’s house. This was in 1963, and all our friends were there.

It was a magic moment, and I understood the significance of that time even as I lacked sufficient understanding of the hormones that were attacking my body and psyche. At some point during the party, I was able to draw myself out of the reality of the music, dancing, and laughter as I became a silent observer rather than a participant.

I was only gone for a few seconds, but I can still remember the joy that those few seconds helped me to appreciate.

Another moment like this occurred on September 3, 1971.

Unlike the Halloween Party in 1963 which I had been anticipating for days, I had no hint that a special moment was on its way.

It was my last day working in the mail room at Lorillard Corp. and, like most Fridays that were also paydays, my colleagues and I cashed our checks and headed to the nearest Blarney Stone on Third Avenue. We didn’t have to walk far, as it seemed that a Blarney Stone occupied space on every block on Third Avenue in Midtown.

Lunch consisted of roast beef sandwiches on rye and a few cold brews to aid in their digestion. Later on the walk back to the office, we stopped off at a Tobaconist and bought some Tipparillos for a light after lunch smoke. Ironically, we worked for a tobacco company that made cigarettes but no cigars.

The work day soon came to a close, and goodbyes and hugs were exchanged, and before I knew it, I was on the Six train heading north to the Parkchester stop. I should add that in 1971, subways were not air-conditioned, and warm air was rendered even hotter by the ceiling fans pushing hot air into your face.

Because it was my mother’s birthday, I had to stop at the Parkchester Pharmacy on The Circle when I got off the train. I purchased the typical cosmetic collection of perfume, scented soaps, and hand cream. My mother was always appreciative of my modest efforts to honor her birth.

After dinner, I went, as planned, to Al’s Wine and Liquors to meet up with my friends. Cake and a Happy Birthday rendition were planned for Sunday, when other siblings would share in the festivities.

Little did I know that when I entered the liquor store that my life would be forever changed.

No specific plans were set for our Friday night adventure. We wound up going to one of the usual bars that had served us well in the past. The bar was called the Castle Keep but on this particular Friday night, the Castle might as well have been protected by a moat given the paucity of female clientele.

We didn’t stay long enough to order a beer.

So. we meandered down East Tremont Avenue to another bistro known as the Hollow Leg, previously known as the Bronx Irish Center, AKA BIC.

I wasn’t a fan of this place as it held too many memories or traumatic experiences dating back to high school. Here I was on the verge of entering senior year in college and I was sucked into the black hole that was the Hollow Leg….Thank God!!!

As I was bobbing and weeving on the dance floor by myself, my friends having abandoned me, I spotted someone at the bar smiling or perhaps laughing at me. Thinking along the lines of Oliver Hardy I mused, What Could Be Worse?

I then made my way to the bar and the smiling or laughing individual. Now, even from the great distance of ten. feet I could tell that she was a red head. I previously encountered a beautiful red head on two occasions at Manhattan College’s Manhappening and had a good time on both occasions. Except, when the time came to go home or to plan our next encounter, she always used the barrier of her father. She said he would not appove of me and she itereated the reasons, I believe, in iambic pentameter.

However, as I approached this particular red head, I could tell she was a completely different person…Thank God.

But here I am approaching her and I had no clue as to what I should say. I adlibed and uttered a disastorus opening line, “I’ve been admiring you all night.”

Well, there was no doubt as to whether she was smiling or laughing as she nearly fell off her bar stool laughing so hard at my poor excuse for a pick up line.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t long before I realized that I had found the wife of my children and the Memaw of my grandchildren.

That was fifty-four years ago today and on September 19th a short five years after our first encounter, we were married.

So much has happened from that September night in 1971 but most of what happened was completely expected.

So, the one take away I can offer you is that sometimes you never see what is heading your way until you walk through the door and find the girl who smiles.

The rest of that evening was previously described in A Bronx Boy’s Tale so, while it bears repeating, I will allow you to do so at your own leisure.