A Bit Of Personal Commentary Part IX

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By Seth H. Bramson

When last we left off (the issue prior to the letter to the editor of Biscayne Times regarding the errors in the article dealing with the history of the Venetian and Mid-Bay Causeways) the discussion was regarding the “nice Italian girl from Bay Ridge Brooklyn” who, while I was mad for, turned out to be a disaster, as she wasn’t so nice and thank NEIL (Neil, God!) I didn’t wind up with her. That story concluded with that fateful night one week and one day after Thanksgiving, 1973, when I met the real and true and great love of my life, to whom I am looking forward to celebrating our 43rd anniversary with in late November.

I must set the stage, though, as I know you are gasping with anticipation to find out what did happen, how it happened, and when.

I was living in our family home at 8035 Cecil Street on Biscayne Point at the north end of Miami Beach and I used to take walks around the neighborhood. Mom was still alive (she smoked herself to death as Dad had done, he dying at 56 in 1961, she at 59 in 1976) and both Bennett and I lived there, quite happily, I must state.

As previously noted in one of our commentaries, I had hired Butch Stallings as a counselor at the Fontainebleau and that developed into a robust friendship. We kept in touch while I was at Cornell and thereafter (“the rest of the story” another time) and while I was walking on Biscayne Point I noticed a very attractive girl with long blonde hair who I kept seeing at a distance in nice shorts and top, she also walking. Eventually, and finally, we met and it turned out that she was Roberta Waller, whose dear mom was the quite intimidating Mrs. Waller, who taught sixth grade at Biscayne Elementary School for many years.

We would chat amicably and one day or evening she invited me to a party. I asked her if we were going as dates and she said, “no,” but did ask me to come to said soiree which was going to be held on the evening noted above. I called Butch and told him that we really should go to the party and that maybe we might meet some nice girls (or ladies), although I don’t remember which term I was using at the time.

He agreed and we drove from my house way south to somewhere near what today is either Cutler Bay or Palmetto Bay and went into the residence at which the event was being held. We separated and I wandered about for maybe 30—40 minutes and while there might have been some nice ladies or girls there—almost all teachers—there was simply nobody who I was interested in. In fact, I remember that I didn’t speak to a single female.

Eventually, feeling that I was really wasting my time, I walked to the door, put my hand on the doorknob and started to open it, when suddenly I said to myself, “where the hell am I going?!! I can’t leave without Butch!” And at that point I turned around to head back in and look for him. It was at that moment in time that my life really changed, because it was at that instant, when I turned around, thinking that I was going to look for Butch, that the whole place went dark except for a floodlight coming down upon this incredibly stunningly beautiful lady on the other side of the room, directly across from and facing toward me. “Transfixed” would have been an understatement.

Folks, she was “only” breath taking and I was frozen in place, staring at her, unable not just to take my eyes off of her, but also unable to move, she was that beautiful.

All of a sudden, Butch came up to me, grabbed me by the forearm, and said, “do you want to meet her?!!” Without taking my eyes off her, I said to him “do you know her?!!” to which he replied, “don’t worry about it,” as he half dragged me, half pulled me across the room.
Reaching Nirvana, he grabbed her by the forearm, as he had done me. She looked up at him (he a big, tall, handsome blonde young man) and he said, “what’s your name?!” upon which she smilingly replied “Myrna!” To which his retort was, “Myrna, this is your new friend Seth; Seth, this is your new friend Myrna; now you can’t say you haven’t been properly introduced,” after which he dropped both our forearms and walked away.

Although I was totally enchanted, my knees actually feeling weak and shaking, I was thinking that, as stunning as she was, I didn’t know if I wanted to schlep all the way back down that far into the hinterlands of far South Dade County to pick her up to take her out and then have to drive all the way back to the north end of Miami Beach. Of course, even thinking that, I wanted to at least be a gentleman, and so I asked her for her phone number.

As the great line in the great scene from “Casablanca” goes, when she gave me her phone number, I was SHOCKED! (“There’s gambling going on here?!! Shocked! I’m shocked!” “Your winnings, Captain Reynaud!” “Oh, thank you very much!”) Her number, this incredibly beautiful lady’s number, was (no area codes yet!) “864-….” “Oh my god” I said, “864? That’s a north beach number! Where do you live?” And when she told me that she lived in the Treasure House on East Treasure Drive in North Bay Village I nearly plotzed!” “Holy cow! I don’t believe it! I live on Biscayne Point!” And that, ladies and gentle persons was the start of….more than a beautiful friendship, Louie! As we would say Downeast, “Ayyyyy-YUP! It was the start of an incredible life, married 43 years come November 27th. (I chased that woman for three years until she caught me!)

So until next time, kiddies, when I tell you not the rest of but more of this wonderful story, be good to each other, stay well, and, as we say in South Florida, “thank you for not shooting and have a MIAMI NICE day!”

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