Nov 2, 2025
The Night My Father Met My Mother
They tell me he'd be the last man on the floor dancing till the lights went on, the "Charleston," the "Lindy," his wavy hair bouncing, his joyous eyes bright, a good man moving in grace across the dance floor. Through the lens of memory I watch my dad, honorable truck driver and extraordinary dancer, one night in 1920's Rahway, NJ walk over to ask a pretty woman to dance and she says yes and he tells her his name is Ed and she tells him her name is Margaret and they waltz to the sweetness of "Always," the music leading them in darkness, dancing and dancing, my young father's arms a muscular tenderness around her. Maybe he knows, even then, he will never let her go. by Edwin Romond
