-Since I’m twenty-nine years old and Valentine’s Day is coming up, I’ve been thinking a lot about dating and romance in the thirties.  That is, the 1930s.  Recently, I visited my ninety-seven-year-old Grandma Zelda and asked her a bunch of questions about what life was like when she was single.  As my only living grandparent, Zelda is the last remaining tie I have to that generation, and I thought she would have fun reminiscing.  She played along for a while, then made me wheel her into the common room of her nursing home so she wouldn’t miss Bingo.  As it turns out, the game (of dating, not Bingo) hasn’t changed much in the past seventy years or so.

-My grandma worked in an Army Navy store in Queens with her father and uncle.  One day, the guy who would become my Grandpa Sam came into the store trying to sell raincoats and kick a little game to my grandma.  Though her father didn’t like the raincoats and turned Sam away, Zelda’s uncle knew she had a crush and thus placed an order anyway, enabling my grandpa to come back and see her again.  Although I never met my great-great-uncle, obviously he was a pretty awesome wingman.

-On their first date, Sam took Zelda to dinner and then to see “Gone with the Wind.”  (My reaction: “Grandma, you went to see ‘Gone with the Wind’ on your first date?  Damn you’re old!”  Luckily her hearing aid was on the fritz.)  The movie was playing at the historic (but now demolished) Roxy Theatre in Manhattan where each film was preceded by an elaborate stage show performed by the Roxyettes (precursors of the Rockettes).  Despite this lavish spectacle, my grandpa fell asleep before the movie even began.  Hey, the guy was on his feet selling fucking raincoats all day!  

-I asked Grandma if Sam kissed her after that first date.  She bristled, “Of course!  What were we waiting for?”  Sorry, Grandma, I didn’t know you were that kind of girl!  Then I asked her if they had been drinking.  She said they hadn’t and they rarely did.  Quite frankly, now I wonder how they ever conceived my mom.