February 14, 2004
A VALENTINE STORY
Of sorts. Don't expect the maudlin from Velociman, but this is special to me, at any rate.
When The Bride and I were engaged, in, uh, 1978, she lived in the Chatham Apartments. Her grandmother got her the "in" there. The Chatham was affixed to the old Candler Hospital, downtown, and used to be the dorms for nursing students. The Bride had her Grandmother get her an apartment there. The Bride had an efficiency on the 9th floor. $90 a month, utilities included, $100 in the summer (supply your own air conditioner). They got me in, too. My one-bedroom was $120 a month, plus $10 in the summer. Very sweet.
The Chatham was the highest residence in Savannah, and overlooked Forsythe Park, Savannah's version of Central Park. In other words, the best view in the city. 10 blocks from River Street. Across the street was Clary's Drugs. They had a diner inside. You saw Clary's diner in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Everyone had breakfast in Clary's. A full park across the street, The Bride and I could both walk to work, it was youngster heaven.
The Chatham was hard to get into. It was full of old people. There were a few young couples in there like us, grandfathered in by some way. We had a DOORMAN! Ninety bucks a month and a doorman. Too cool. And the best view in the city.
The Chatham was so bitching when my mother got pissed at my father for binge drinking she moved in. On The Bride's floor. Stayed for 4 or 5 months, I forget. The old man begged her back. After he proved himself at my wedding (he was my Best Man), and foreswore liquor in any form, she moved back home. She was so unobtrusive about living in the Chatham I'd forgotten she'd done it until The Bride reminded me tonight.
Mr. Hamm, a bald old queen, was the resident manager. He ran a tight ship. So tight he called the cops on us one night after a good-natured fist-fight, after we started heaving the Yamaha speakers at each other.
Four to six old ladies always populated the lobby. When you walked in with groceries (M&M was right across the street) they'd insist on poring through your groceries to make sure you weren't smuggling in Liquor, or Beer. Then they'd call you a Fornicator behind your back. But The Bride's grandmother was a commanding presence, and had Game, and generally shut the old harpies up.
The best part? We were in love. I was going to law school in the fall, The Bride already had a radiologist job locked up at Emory.
This was our story tonight. This was the Past we relived, and enjoyed.
I love The Bride, and she tolerates me pretty well.