On the thirteenth of July,1965, a red VW beetle pulled up to the entrance of the Harvard Square subway. It was driven by a man who worked where I was starting a new job that day. Since it was not accessible by public transportation, Human Resources (then called “Personnel”) had arranged a ride to get me to work until the new car I had ordered (also a red VW beetle) arrived.
The driver, now my husband of forty-nine years, was Peter. I remember what I wore that day AND what he wore.
Since my new job was in Human Resources, I had access to personnel files, and as soon as I had a free moment, I determined that Peter Kugel was single. I got a little help with that from a woman in the office next to mine, and next week, we will have dinner with her and her husband, as we have countless times in the ensuing years.
Thursday, on the anniversary of our meeting, I gave Peter a ride to his new physical therapy program at a place that’s hard to get to by public transportation. I told him that it was payback for two weeks of rides to work in 1965. He replied, “I got the better deal.”