1957

In 1957 December there was a major snowstorm in New York City. I really don't know how big it was and how much inconvenience it caused but I do know it was a big-big snowstorm.

Now, how do I know that, one may ask.

Well, since it was asked I will tell. I was in the middle of it, that's how I know it.

December 4, 1957 was the day I got married the first time. We were in this country about five weeks when we decided to get married. Our wedding was at the Manhattan City Hall with my aunt and her friend as witnesses.

We were both working and our employers "graciously" permitted us to take the day off. I was not yet 21 years of age and I needed a parental permission from my Mother in Budapest.

Back in those days prospective couples needed to have their blood tested. Now, nobody care anymore.

But we had all our documents in order and with the exception of the snow storm everything went o.k.

The only inconvenience was that since we didn't understand English we were not aware of the snow storm and we couldn't dress accordingly. But even if we knew about it we didn't have anything appropriate to wear. Anyway, who goes to his and her wedding dressed in a snow suite? Maybe an Eskimo.

My wife had a pair half open high heel shoes on and I wore a pair of regular black dress shoes. Naturally, our feet froze off because of the cold and snow. But the good news was that eventually they grew back!

After the ceremony my aunt took us to an area restaurant for lunch and then we parted company. She and her friend lived in Manhattan, we at that time lived in Brooklyn. We took a very unceremonious ride home on the subway and life continued like nothing ever happened.

Except that maybe we were a little happier.

Two weeks later when we both got home from our jobs and exchanged our daily stories we found out that we were both let go at the same time.

That was our first real welcome to America.