It’s weird. I’ve known him since he was selling shoes at A & S. He had aspirations but no experience. Just back from the Marines who had discovered his dark secret. He was deaf. This didn’t go well with a military enlistment. I mean, you yell “Over the hill, men,” but this guy doesn’t go because he didn’t hear you. They said sorry, we might have made you an officer but you can’t hear. Oops.
So now it’s 1964. There we were, the soon to be greats, together at Hofstra’s 10-watt radio station which would soon jump up to 500 watts. Due to some strange bounces in the atmosphere, WVHC could be clearly heard in Ohio, but not down the road in East Meadow. Our motto? Don’t tune us in. We’ll drift to you.
When I got there in my Sophomore year at the ripe old age of 17, Garry was the program director. My first husband, Jeff, was the Station Manager and the two of them were friends. Good friends. Such good friends that I married both of them.
But I digress.
Somehow, with a little finagling and a lot of persistence, Garry got a job at ABC Network in New York. This would be impossible today, but back then you could call and someone — a human being — would answer. He just kept calling until they were so sick of all those calls, they hired him.
At ABC, he was really in line for what would probably have been a great job as a producer or director, but Garry wanted to be on the air. A quick hop-skip-jump to an RKO station in Hartford, Connecticut and thence to Channel 7 in Boston which was then also part of the RKO network.
He was there for 33 years and a lot of people around here are sure he still works there. He has given up explaining that he retired in 2001 and hasn’t been on regular television since. They don’t believe him. This sometimes worries me.
Today he was being interviewed by some people making a movie about the Boston Busing Crisis of the 1970s. This has been a big deal recently. I though maybe it was an anniversary of some kind, but it’s not. Maybe it’s just the times we are in that suddenly, this story has risen back up. Once again, it is the foam on our mental coffee.
These people practically breathless at being allowed to speak with a legend — my husband. Maybe this is why he can’t cook? Legends don’t cook unless they are cooking legends?
When breathless people are having trouble coping with being in the (zoomed) presence of my legendary husband, I sometimes think I’ve walked out of the movie of my life and wandered into a different film. Different director. New script. Where am I and how did I get here? Actually, that pretty much describes my life in Current Times.
It’s not that I didn’t know he’s a legend. I know. I even had a shirt made for him at PerfectPosters.com that says “Legend” on the front. These same people have printed all my photographs which are framed and cluttering up my walls. They will print any picture you want on almost anything from a coffee mug to a mouse pad. They’ll print it on aluminum, glass, wood, and a wide variety of papers at excellent prices with high quality. They also frame. Everything is done over the internet, except of course for mailing you the goods. Sadly, that is the post office.
Even with his special “Legend” shirt, I have trouble when so many people are breathing heavily at the overwhelming thrill of talking with my husband. Sheesh. Now it’s going to be that much harder to get him to help in the kitchen.
Some people are legends in their own minds. Then there are those who are legends in other people’s minds. I asked Garry if he is a legend in his mind. He said: “No. I do not have a mind.”
Neither do I.