• What are
  FAVORITES?
  Bookmark any page of our site conveniently in this one area.
  
  Sign In or Register so you can take advantage of all of the features of After Fifty Living

"Did you say Opera? You gotta be kidding." My friend Judy wiped away tears of laughter. "Opera," she repeated. Then she doubled over in an all-out howl.

"Why are you laughing? You think because Babe is an ex-jock, he doesn’t appreciate music?"

When she finally got control of herself, she took a deep breath, looked me in the eye and shook her head. "I just can’t picture Babe, the linebacker, panting over Puccini."

I lifted my chin and sniffed. "Obviously, you don't know him."

Several members of the Tallahasee Opera were scheduled to appear at the Little Theatre in Northern Florida where I was living at the time. They were scheduled to perform arias from famous operas, recognizable ones designed for people most likely to remark, "I don’t speak Italian and the only music I ever loved died with Elvis. Thank you very much."

As the concert date drew closer, I found myself wondering if perhaps Judy had been right. Why would Babe show up at an opera house unless I was dragging him there?

He loved music as long as he could dance to it. The man could jitterbug like nobody was watching. My 200-pound ex-football hero might have had trouble getting off the couch, but he could glide like a butterfly on the dance floor. But toe-tapping to Tosca? Yowzer. That might be a stretch.

The two of us had dated for over a year and had even discussed our future together once or twice. Previous unsuccessful relationships, however, left us both skittish so we put off talking to the preacher.

On opera night Babe took me to a romantic restaurant. Eyeing him over a glass of Merlot, I decided to let him off the hook. "Babe, you don’t have to pretend to like high-brow music. Why don’t you drop me off at the theatre and pick me up later?"

He looked at me like I had grits for brains. "Naah. I want to go with you."

He was humoring me. I could tell.

The master of ceremonies appeared on the stage wearing a silly hat and a green tunic over his brown tights. I could have sworn I saw a large pink feather growing out of the top of his head.

"FEE-GA-RO! FEE-GA-RO, FEE-GA-RO!"

I began to panic. I had the awful feeling that this might be my last date with Babe.

Quite suddenly, the costumed performer snatched off his silly hat, tossed it aside and strode to center stage. Throwing his head back, he laughed like Pagliacci.

"Scared you, didn’t I? I bet you thought you would have to sit through an entire evening of REAL opera!"

He plopped himself down on the floor, dangled his feet over the edge of the stage, and began to talk to the audience. Occasionally, he got up and ambled around while providing background information on some of the arias he planned to perform for us during the evening.

When at last he began the real program, it was as entertaining an evening as I had ever spent. In fact, I was so entranced that my fears of seeing Babe keel over in a dead pall were totally forgotten. Glancing around the auditorium, I noticed that the singer had captivated the attention of everyone in the room, including my "linebacker."

The evening meandered to an end when the performer began to sing familiar music from the then popular Broadway musical, Phantom of the Opera. Mesmerized, the room was hushed when the performer sang the haunting words of All I Ask of You.

Babe reached over and took my hand. Feeling his touch and connecting with him in that moment of shared music that I so loved, made my heart do a flip.

When the words, Love me, that’s all I ask of you, were belted out for the very last time, that big ex-jock of mine, the one Judy said would never be an opera buff, the man I had not expected to be romantic, slipped an engagement ring on my finger.

… and we have been making beautiful music together ever since!

Lillie What a delightful story!
AND the fact that you're still together after nearly 20 years makes me happy, Cappy.
Happy Birthday, Young Lady... and Happy Valentine's Day, too.
Tue Feb 14, 2012, 9:47:57 AM EST

Leave a Comment -

Guidelines: We welcome your thoughts, but for the sake of all visitors to AfterFiftyLiving.com, please refrain from the use of obscenities, personal attacks or slurs. All comments are subject to our terms of use and may be removed. Repeat offenders may lose commenting privileges.