Ah, romance – a topic right up my alley. I’ll cite several romantic moments and you can pick the best. To protect the innocent, however, I will not discuss such dalliances with anyone other than Claudia Teresa White (not that there were any worthy of discussion).

The first romantic moment occurred on that cable car ride in San Francisco in June 1971. We were both moved by the sweeping view of the City by the Bay from the top of Nob Hill. There is romance in the air when two people look forward to sharing together new and memorable experiences. During the next six days Claudia and I did that, exploring Ghirardelli Square, Fisherman’s Wharf, Golden Gate Park, and other San Francisco sights, enjoying brunch at a Sausalito restaurant overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge, and just sitting on the dock of the bay getting to know each other better. A romantic moment on the Powell and Mason cable car evolved into romantic days and indeed a romantic week. We were falling in love. What’s more romantic than that?

I knew that Claudia loved jewelry and so a couple of months after we started dating I bought earrings for her. We had a Saturday night dinner date at La Ferme in Chevy Chase, a popular French restaurant that we both were excited to experience. I had the earrings in my pocket, but for some reason I didn’t present the gift to her at the restaurant as I had planned. Perhaps it was because I was nervous and uncertain how she would react to it, and feared a public scene. On the drive back to her home in Silver Spring, however, I abruptly turned onto a side street, quickly parked the car, reached into my pocket, and gave her the earrings. I guess I felt it would be too embarrassing or awkward to give them to her in her house where her parents or brothers might be around. The side street setting was certainly not romantic, but she was really touched by the gift, so much so that I think it qualifies as a romantic moment. When I saw how much the gift and my thoughtfulness pleased her I began to think of myself as a romantic at heart.

On a Saturday night In January 1972 Claudia and I became engaged. The scene was my apartment on G Street in Southwest D.C. We were sitting on a couch listening to an album on my old record player when all of a sudden she stood up and started to dance to every song. I don’t remember what album it was or what songs were being played, but that’s not important. I just sat there looking at her, watching her lovingly perform for me. That, I thought, was romantic.

The week after we got engaged I decided we should celebrate by dining at Rive Gauche, possibly the most expensive French restaurant in Washington at that time. It was located in Georgetown and while the meal was wonderful what transpired afterwards was the romantic part of the evening. We just walked hand in hand for over an hour around Georgetown and down towards the river. It stands out in my mind as a romantic evening because we weren’t going anywhere, we were just walking and talking, completely and naturally at ease with each other, enjoying each other’s company. That was love.

Another romantic moment during the period of our engagement took place at a piano bar in downtown Washington. It was not a karaoke scene (I don’t think karaoke singing even existed back in 1972), but the pianist was accepting song requests from the patrons. He said that anyone who made a request was invited to come up front and sing the song while he played it. My date decided to do just that. She requested The Look of Love which was written by Burt Bacharach, her favorite composer. She went up and stood by the piano, microphone in hand, and sang (beautifully) The Look of Love, all the while looking at me. I was smitten.

A classy Washington hotel in the 70’s was The Shoreham which housed a nightclub called The Blue Room. It was hard to get tickets or a reservation for an evening at The Blue Room as it was a choice late evening spot for the politicians and power brokers, but I managed to acquire two in the summer of 1972 (August, I believe), and I viewed the evening as a pre-wedding treat for Claudia and me. The Blue Room that night featured a band playing mostly slow music so there was a lot of Waltz dances. Claudia loved to dance and I usually shied away from it. That evening, however, listening to the soft music while holding my soon-to-be bride close to me and dancing to the most romantic of all dances, I was turned on. I remember thinking “bring on the honeymoon – this guy’s ready!”.

The honeymoon, of course, was in and of itself romance at its best. I know that for many couples the opportunities for intimate romantic occasions or moments diminish, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, as they become involved with raising a family and carrying out the responsibilities of their jobs or careers, and that’s unfortunate. It’s all the more important then to look back, reflect, and treasure the memories of the most romantic moments of your relationship with someone, such as those I’ve described above, and if Claudia were here today I think she would agree.