Whenever I find myself in The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Great Hall, I think of Bill. It’s where we went on our first date, the room that launched a romance.
We were leaving after spending an hour or so talking in the American Wing that then, was like a sanctuary rather then the noisy, invasive place it’s become since putting in a cafe that rivals any at Epcot.
Damn those mercenary powers that be, alas, having more respect for a buck than the humble price of peace.
But back to Bill, who was shy that night, quiet yet content. It surprised me really considering who he was. In hindsight, it may have been the most attractive thing about him, his innate humility minus swagger or strut.
We sat on Shaker-like benches, also long gone, facing Central Park at dusk, the trees seeming to waltz for our benefit. My clarity of the evening surprises me since I can barely remember last night, but its colors longingly loom like a favorite landscape.
Me in a little Audrey dress wanting so much to please since he left the evening up to me. Would he be disappointed or bored at the Met?
Will I turn him off as fast as I turned him on?
Underestimating him, as well as myself, he thanked me repeatedly for taking him there.
He was so polite not to mention sexy in his black Levis. A red button-down beneath the black raincoat his mom bought him. Boots clicking on the overly polished parquet floor.
As we were about to head for the front doors facing fifth like curtains that were about to open, despite the crowd, despite anything at all, he swung me around ever so gently for a long, first kiss.
Whenever I find myself in The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Great Hall, I think of Bill. It’s where we went on our first date, the room that launched a romance.
William Melvin Hicks would have been 57 years-old today.
(1961-1994)
Happy Birthday Willie.
Miss you.
Love, Susannah
Such a poignant piece, Susannah. I could feel the tentative electricity in the air. A beautiful memory forever impressed upon you heart.
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I have to get ready for comments I’ll delete since Hickites come out of the woodwork, but I remember everything with such clarity Skinny. Last night I walked to the Met to see their Xmas tree, always a delight, then wandered into the American Wing. I stood in the center and envisioned what it was like well over 20 years ago. I felt his presence. Heard that Texas giggle. Thanks for honoring him and me today.
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Having dealt with my father’s death a little over 2 years ago, I understand what it is like to lose someone you really cared about. I have kinda concluded that I don’t understand the romantic love as well as I thought. Or, I do, but cannot seem to find anyone I care that way about. Whatever the reason, I am dealing. I am so very sorry about Bill. It is wonderful that you can remember him and that first date so very well after a fairly long stretch of time. I will say a prayer for you.
Scott
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It’s hard for me to answer comments about this. I appreciate you reading it. Don’t know really, what compels me to write about him still. He lingers from the ether. is my best explanation. Thanks.
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How brave you were taking him to the Met. I’m not sure exactly what a Hickite is but I can’t imagine this offending anyone. Very sweet. Fresh love is always very sweet.
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They just say things that are hurtful and inappropriate. I had one woman write and I’ll quote…I fucked him too. Another person questioned my validity. You’re a cyber sitting duck when you’re truthful…I’m trying to get over having it bother me, but…it remains hard. Thanks
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I will never understand why people do that. When I read something that I don’t agree with, I scroll on by. Yesterday there was a picture of a 79 year old woman on Facebook who was beautiful (considering her age). Someone commented she looked old. Of course she looked old but she didn’t look her age.
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Cruelty reigns. sigh
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Perhaps people don’t realize that nobody cares what they think but it’s upsetting.
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Loose cannons…Trumpettes if you will. Anything goes nowadays. Manners are extinct, it’s every asshole for himself. Sorry. not a good topic for me.
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Actually I don’t. Learning to live with that. Thanks.
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Yo! Morgan would challenge that.
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Susannah,
As first dates go, The Met has to be damn near top of the list perfect. As was this post of yours about Bill, inside a memory you paint as if it is happening right fucking now. Excuse my French, but this is magnificent writing so it’s your fault! LOL.
To Willie and the Met. And to curtains we open to forever.
Peace
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It’s odd I still write about him. It was so long ago, but he still lives so clearly in my memory. I’m not religious but do feel his passed presence I just can’t see. Thanks. Nice words to me.
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SB,
Not odd at all. It’s beautiful in fact, the ability to snow globe a moment in time and take it with us forever. And I’m with you in that I cannot for the life of me remember what I did two days ago . . but these moments? They stick, they just do.
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I appreciate that. Thank you.
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Truly beautiful piece, SB. 🙂
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I don’t take praise well, so I’m flogging myself with my Gucci belt. ouch..oww…damn
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The travails of the modern woman . . .
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Great title for a memoir.
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Go on girl! 🙂
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What did you write today. I should check.
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I didn’t write about flogging. Or Gucci. But New York was in it, so there’s that.
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My phone won’t let me get into your site. Will read at my computer.
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I love technology, except for those times when I hate technology. Before I love it again. Yikes!
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I’m the cyber Rainman. It’s amazing I can even post.
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We are same boat on that one. You are cyber Rainman, I am cyber Shackleton. I get there . . eventually. And on the positive side, I don’t have to worry about hypothermia.
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You have a great command of language. But you know that. At least you should.
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Much obliged SB. Coming from you, it makes me smile. One of those smiles you can’t use when posing for an ID any longer. Yeah, those.
🙂
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Ha.
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PS. Never excuse your French since it beckons for mine to come out. 🙂
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Duly noted, buahahaha!
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I confess I had to look him up – did not know about him I guess. This is a sweet piece about an important night in your life. Thanks for sharing.
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It was long ago he walked the earth but still has such a following. It’s amazing really. He was ahead of his time.
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It’s nice that you have that place to remember him with. I love tribute, as always.
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It’s so garishly changed. You can no longer see the park from the windows and those lovely benches we sat in were replaced by a cash register. Before all you heard was the water tinkling from the fountain. Now it’s the espresso machine. My memory and I left disheartened. Change, not always for the better.
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Memory is a strange thing: wonderful, yet confusing and challenging. Those triggers that evoke images: places, scents, sounds. Love the romance in this.
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There was indeed that, like popping the cork of the best bottle of champagne.
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That’s a beautiful story. My first date with my husband was also at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. My visit was part of an assignment for an art history class I was taking at Baruch College. It was the perfect excuse for me to ask him out. Master works and majestic architecture makes a museum the perfect first-date venue, especially in NYC.
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Thanks for sharing that. It’s the Taj Mahal of Museums.
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“As we were about to head for the front doors facing fifth like curtains that were about to open, despite the crowd, despite anything at all, he swung me around ever so gently for a long, first kiss.”
CHILLS …. this scene is right out of a movie that gives hearts all across the land hope.
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I purposely didn’t put his name in the title to deter any crude, rude remarks, but the truth is, my clarity when it comes to him, is in Dolby Sound and Technicolor. Go figure.
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