The girl who came to the door was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She was slim with wavy black hair and an expressive face, with the saddest deep brown eyes. I could not take my eyes off of her.

“Hi, I’m Edward Koh, Carolyn’s younger brother.”

“Oh, you’re Dr. Koh’s son! Are you moving in next door?”

I wondered if she might be half Japanese. Ca had said that her last name was Mastromauro, but I wondered if she had meant Matsumuro. Many of the most beautiful people I knew were half Asian.

“I’ll be moving in for the summer and then I’ll be back next year. I’m going to take over as agent, too.”

“Great! Maybe you can help me fix my old leaky refrigerator!”

We laughed and made a little more small talk, and then I left. Years later I learned the reason for the sad eyes: she had lost her father two weeks before.

MAKING THE PESTO

After I moved in to the second floor of 9 Humboldt St., Carol’s roommate Judy moved out and Carol decided to move into the third floor. Because the old house had never meant to be split into apartments, Carol had to walk through my place to get to hers. We both became quite familiar with each other’s schedule and whereabouts.

Carol’s refrigerator was the source of much angst for me. She had the right to ask my dad for a new one, but my dad, collecting minimal rent from his rent-controlled apartments, had no “liquidity”. He pleaded with me to give it a temporary fix.

This found me one evening knocking on Carol’s door carrying a box of Kleenex, which I intended to stuff like insulation into the cracked rubber gasket of her refrigerator door. She came to the door holding a mortar and pestle. She was crushing up basil by hand and making an Italian sauce I had never heard of called “pesto”. “Come in! Want to taste it?”

It was of course delicious, and I ended up delaying her dinner significantly by staying to gab and having one “taste” after another of the delicious pesto, which Carol had to replace again and again with more basil leaves. I don’t actually remember what the outcome of the evening was, whether we actually had dinner or what. I just remember that we seemed to have a lot to talk about, and we clearly enjoyed each other’s company. (To this day, I have never heard of ANYONE making pesto with a mortar and pestle…)

THE BLIZZARD OF ’78…

was a legendary storm which dropped 28″ of snow onto a stunned city in 24 hours. The entire area ground to a halt, including mass transit, workplaces, hospitals (almost completely), and cars. Hundreds of cars were abandoned on Rte. 128, and young people were cross-country skiing down the middle of Mass. Ave.

I was just starting med school, and was not one of the “essential personnel” who was cleared to travel into Mass. General Hospital to take care of the sick inpatients. One of the news outlets reported that there was not enough electricity to power the ICU’s respirators, and so the nurses were “bagging” the patients by hand. Now there was a way I could make myself useful (I desperately wanted to be useful), so I called one of the MGH ICU’s and volunteered my services. A relaxed, laughing nurse’s voice on the other end of the phone told me that they were doing fine, thank you, and did not need anyone to come in to squeeze a bag. (Ironically, I would go on to spent

The next day, after the snow in Cambridge had been cleared into shovel-wide paths reminiscent of ant farms, Carol and I took a walk through the neighborhood. Walking single file and barely able to see over the tops of the walls of snow, we finally came to a small clearing where the snow had drifted a bit lower, about a foot and a half deep. What to do there? What we used to do as kids: make snow angels. We plopped backwards into the soft snow and waved our arms and legs, and the resulting sculptures really did look angelic. It was a truly carefree moment, and somehow I feel that we were meant to share it.

THE RENT CONTROL HEARING

Carol was one of the most soft-spoken people I had ever met. However, I first saw her strength come out at a Cambridge Rent Control Board hearing, for which my dad drove up from New Haven. He was petitioning for a rent increase, but several of the tenants had come to protest the lack of maintenance and upkeep on the house.

At one point I saw my dad begin to get frustrated, and I knew from my childhood experiences what was next. He would rev up like a nuclear reactor and explode with rage, shouting and knocking down everything in his path with his booming voice. I braced myself. To my surprise, Carol went up to him, looked into his eyes, and said very evenly, “Dr. Koh, we are not trying to keep you from getting your increase, we just feel that these things need to be taken care of too.”

My dad’s anger was completely defused. He had a quizzical look on his face, like a lion who had been disarmed by a mouse. I was stunned. I had never seen anyone have that effect on my dad. Even Carolyn, who had the gift of calmness, took several minutes to get my dad’s temper under control. And Carol had done this so naturally, just by being herself.

This was the first time I became aware of Carol’s special strength, which arose from her caring and forthrightness.

TRYING TO HOLD OUT…

I knew that Carol and I would end up together, and I think she must have too. But there was a kind of juvenile “puppy love” that prevented me from showing her my real feelings for the longest time. I did give her a Ziggy card that said “Want to know the best way to avoid stress and aggravation? Don’t get emotionally involved in your own life!”

That summer I decided to fall in love. I started a random relationship with a girl who really didn’t care about me at all. Oblivious to this, I ran upstairs and knocked loudly on Carol’s door. “I have great news! I’m in love!” I will never forget the crestfallen look that came over her face. Our conversation was brief, and I came away from it wondering what I had missed.

Within the next few days two things happened. Carol made it clear that she did not want to lose me to anyone else. My random girlfriend broke up with me. And Carol and I embarked on a romance that has lasted strong to this day.

10/19/2021: HOW MY DAD PROPOSED OUR MARRIAGE

After about a year together, Carol decided that she “needed more space” and moved out of my dad’s house on Humboldt St. and into a one-bedroom apartment on Harvard and Ellery St. just outside of Harvard Square. Having been fooled by the “need more space” thing multiple times in the past (all with the same girl, one of my best friends to this day), I decided that I wasn’t going to be fooled again. I pretty much ignored her request, and moved out of 9 Humboldt St. and into her apartment with her. (A major boundary violation by today’s millennial standards…)

We stayed together for another three years, and then went through a tumultuous year trying to pull the trigger on the decision to get married. We went up to Singing Beach together on Manchester by the Sea, one of our favorite beaches, and Carol told me that she wanted to break up. I proceeded to badly sprain my ankle, and she had to practically carry me to the car. Her motherly instincts kicked in, and she dropped her plan.

We took a “break” that summer, and I went to Camp Winni (where all the divorcees go to find their next love), and promptly fell in love. At the end of the week, my new lover said “Eddie, I think it’s time for you to go back to Carol.”We spent another year doing couples therapy, including a Catholic engaged encounter weekend, and weekly meetings with a wise family friend, a preacher who was studying to become a family therapist. The issues were my fear that I could not stay faithful to any one woman, and Carol’s ongoing difficulty making big life decisions. She had so much wisdom that she could see all sides of a given decision. So it was paralysis by analysis.One day my cousin Rosemary got married to her boyfriend Tony. It was a nice wedding, and our whole extended family attended. Afterwards, in the warm glow of new matrimony, we stood in a circle in the living room of 9 Humboldt St. “Okay, who’s next?” Everyone looked at us. My dad came up to us and, facing us, took both our hands. Very gently, he said “Don’t you think it’s about time?” We started crying, and the three of us shared a hug, with my mom and several others joining in.

So that is the story of how we decided to get married. I didn’t propose to Carol, and she didn’t propose to me. My dad proposed to both of us, and we accepted his proposal.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

As always, friends, thanks for reading.