Page 78 - Philly Girl

62 Janice Shapiro

lost to cancer, a father (who he lived with)… well, his father
had Majolica dishware!—immediately I was in love. I had
never before eaten an artichoke. Jesse served me one on a
plate shaped like an artichoke.
Jesse was leaving soon to go back East to study Russian
at Bard College. He was sexy and silly like me, and he teased
me in a goofy “Frenchified” English. He was smart and liter-
ary, and he wore glasses. I was only attracted to guys who
wore glasses. Oh, and of course, there was that Jewish thing.
But he wasn’t Dennis.
Jesse moved back East. The romance had been short
and sweet. Before too long, Dennis and I rediscovered each
other. He had a mission too at that time: to win me back by
becoming my new “best girlfriend.” It worked. We have been
married now for 36 years.
Here’s an interesting twist. More than 25 years later, I
was online reading a review of a new piece of writing by…
my old young-boyfriend Jesse. At least, it was the same
name. Could it be him? I Googled him and learned that
it was indeed him, and that he had become an author and
a Russian translator who worked for the United Nations. I
wrote to him by postal mail on my professional letterhead
(didn’t want him to think I was a stalker!). He confirmed his
identity and soon acceded to my request that he reach out
by phone so we could catch up. He told me about his wife
and children, the books he had written, and his job at the
UN. I told him about my oldest son, Jesse, who was coming
home from Dubai in two weeks. I mentioned that my Jesse
spoke French and Arabic and needed a job. Older Jesse said
the UN needed someone with those skills. He suggested
younger Jesse stop off in New York for an interview that he
would arrange. My Jesse got the job, worked there until he
started graduate school (his UN credentials were key!)—and
all because, back in the 1980s, I thought I needed a Jewish
man who would be a “blurter” like me.