Kat’s Book: The Honeymoon

The next morning we got on the tour bus to Provincetown at 9am in front of the travel agency,  around 43rd street, not far from the Hotel Edison.  The bus was full as we were among the last to get on.  I looked at the other passengers; none of them looked less than 60 years old. I had somehow arranged that we would be traveling to our honeymoon hotel with a group of senior citizens.  To make matters worse,  after we were seated the tour guide announced to everyone that there was a honeymoon couple on board, pointing to Kat and I.  After the applause died  down I was so embarrassed that I told everyone we were celebrating our first anniversary, that we had gotten married the previous November.  I don’t know if anyone bought that.  Kat was not at all embarrassed.  She was smiling and full of joy.  Kat would only get embarrassed when she was complemented.  Otherwise I never saw her embarrassed.  I was definitely another story.

It was about a 5 ½  hour bus ride that was stretched to 8-9 hours because we stopped to do some sightseeing at Newport, Rhode Island and on Cape Cod before arriving at our final destination, the Provincetown Inn at the easternmost point on Cape Cod.  It was definitely off-season at the Inn;  the Inn, was beautiful,  our room was beautiful and the food was great.  I believe there was both a bowling alley and a pool room at the Inn.  So we went bowling and shot some pool.   Kat was a lousy bowler and a lousy pool player and more fun than anyone had a right to expect or enjoy.  We walked along the desolate, cold beaches happy, gloriously happy to be in each others company.   Near the inn there was a store that sold provisions for sailors, antiques, and old ship parts.  I bought two wooden stems about 15 inches tall with a hollow center that were parts of an old ship.  They cost ten cents each.  When we got home I made lamps from them and they ended up being our bedroom lamps for over 30 years.  Everything we did together, even the smallest things,  was exciting, an adventure.  When I try to think of a description of how we felt, pure joy comes to mind first and foremost.    I was surrounded, embraced, and ultimately overwhelmed  by her good cheer, by her deep love.  I wanted to return what she gave me; I think I did and I hope I did.  I don’t know where that came from within her.  By the time I finish this book, perhaps I will have found out and I will write about it.

On Sunday morning, December 1, 1968,  the tour bus left Provincetown for the return trip back to New York City.  We arrived back in Manhattan around 9:30pm.  After taking the subway from 42nd Street in Manhattan to Brooklyn, we finally got to spend the first night in our new apartment in Brooklyn,  arriving home about midnight.  All we had to sleep on was Kat’s twin bed frame and mattress,  without headboard or footboard.  Between the two of us we weighed about 225 lbs so it wasn’t really a problem.  Monday morning, just a few hours away,  we would go back to work.




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