I found it on Facebook – a one-hour candlelight concert held at the iconic Centro Asturiano de Tampa – a club opened in 1902 for Spanish immigrants and their descendants to socialize. (Those old, elegant structures powerfully draw me in.)
Advertised as “A one-of-a-kind experience in a candlelit setting,” a four-string quartet from the symphony would be playing a combination of Bach compositions and the Beatles’ top hits.
I immediately bought two tickets for my husband and me.
The evening arrived. In a heightened state of excitement, we took our seats. I was delighted to see a couple I knew seated directly in front of us – as hyped up for the upcoming performance as we were. I continued glancing around, drinking in the magic of the 1000’s of flickering lights and the ornate details of the auditorium.
To my left was another couple – about my age, but clearly not quite as bubbly as the four of us. I glanced down at the woman’s legs as the quartet warmed up: stiff as boards. I noticed her hands: clenched together tightly in her lap. Her perfectly sculptured profile remained stoic and unsmiling.
In retrospect, I should have paid more attention to her body language and maybe not quite as much to the music. That was my first miscalculation.
The quartet began to perform and within minutes the portion dedicated to Johann Sebastian Bach was over and it was time for the Beatles’ greatest hits!
Immediately upon hearing the first strains of “I Want to Hold your Hand,” I could feel my body gearing up – responding to the familiar notes – I was kinda swishing back and forth with my shoulders to the beat – utterly enjoying myself.
Enraptured by “Strawberry Fields Forever,” I barely noticed the very stoic lady beside me moving a seat away from me some time mid-concert. I assumed “Mrs. Wooden” felt her new seat provided better visibility.
Hee hee.
That was my second miscalculation.
When the concert ended, the audience rose reluctantly – whispers of awe and wonder floating around us.
“It was simply wonderful!” I gushed to my husband.
At that moment, I heard a loud, male voice on the other side of me. I turned – directly facing the man who had accompanied the “wooden lady.”
“It WOULD have been very enjoyable if you hadn’t been humming the entire time,” he barked at me.
Shocked and speechless, my first reaction was to profusely apologize – to explain that I didn’t even realize I was humming.
Instead, either I repeated what Mrs. Wooden Lady’s companion said to my husband or my husband had heard it himself.
In any case, my husband immediately transformed into ALPHA MALE MODE. “I’m going to beat the crap out of him,” he swore loudly.
“Are you crazy? I retorted. “You will do no such thing. Calm the hell down. You are 76 years old not 26 years old – you have a totally fused back, in case you have momentarily forgotten. And two aging dudes fighting will make quite a very ugly scene.”
Thankfully, by this time, the wooden lady and her mate had slipped away into the crowd. And I was sure my husband’s wrath would be dissipated by the time we reached home.
That was my third miscalculation. It wasn’t. He continued to rant – saying I was “taking his manhood away” by preventing him from defending my honor.
Seriously?
Are we in the Middle Ages?
All I could do was laugh.
I knew that in his prime he could bench press gillions of pounds.
I knew that in his prime he had won body building contests.
But that boat had sailed.
HOWEVER, as the days passed, I began to think differently.
Facing the reality of no longer being in the “bloom” of youth is tough. Yet, there is something very endearing that, even after many years of matrimony, my husband is still anxious to defend me.
We celebrated our 48th anniversary yesterday. Knowing the above? It was the best present ever.
Keep Preserving (what’s left of) Your Bloom,
Don’t miss out.
The Art of Female Friendship – the Complexities and the Chaos
August 28
Register today!
https://www.jewishtampa.com/bloom