On a windy spring day at the end of the Island at Gay Head and I said: "I love you" with a sultry look.

I met my husband at a Cambridge music party in his apartment. When I walked in, he was playing his guitar in the corner, singing "'Ain't Misbehavin' Saving my Love for You." We still sing it together thirty-four years later. I thought he was charismatic, had a beautiful smile and a gorgeous voice. Our first date was a walk around the Brookline reservoir. He picked me up in a creepy looking leather jacket and I thought his legs might be too short so I wasn't sure how this was going to work out. He was different than my other boyfriends because he pursued me rather than the other way around. He always showed up to surprise me at random events including a four hour drive to find me in Saratoga Springs soon after we met.


I had a strong feeling he was the one the very first night when we talked very intensely on a wicker love seat. I found out almost everything I ever needed to know about him those first few hours. There was no turning back.



 Three weeks later we went to Martha's Vineyard. On a windy spring day at the end of the Island at Gay Head and I said: "I love you" with a sultry look. I know because we have a photo of that moment. He was taken aback and thought it was way too soon to make a statement like that. About fifteen months after we'd been dating, we drove across the country to meet family in Colorado. In the middle of Iowa, in our little Blue Datsun named Meckie, I turned to Lev and said 'what do you think, wanna get married?' and he said "REALLY? YES." Romantic engagements were not in our hippie culture. No engagement rings, no engagement parties, no bridesmaids. Just plain and simple.


Our wedding was in Boston in Temple Beth-El. My dad walked me down the aisle to harp music played by our friend. We wrote our own vows and best of all, all of our guests were holding candles, and they were all lit from one. Lev says I did everything but look at him under the Chuppah. I was slightly distracted. My mom called me the day after our wedding to tell me how beautiful and wonderful the wedding was. Ten years later, the subject of my wedding came up and she burst out crying. Turns out, the whole affair was actually a nightmare. The caterers were totally stoned, food was falling out of the ovens and people were hungry because there wasn't enough. We went to St. John's for our honeymoon, which was terrible — it was extremely hot, there were tons of bugs, and terrible food.