Simply Wed Teaser - Part Two

Everything’s big in America-even the dreams!

Chapter One – I Want to Be In America

Picture the scene if you would dear reader . . . it’s a wet Monday in August in Winsford in Cheshire back in 1989. A young 21 year old in a job that he doesn't particularly care about, but hey, it’s a job, makes a decision that will affect his life in more ways than he'll ever realize.

That 21 year old was me. My best mate at the time, Bouldy, who was a student at the City of London University at the time, was spending the summer in New York City. He had met someone the previous summer (a lovely girl called Melissa) and was living in the borough of Queens working as a bartender at the US Tennis Open at Flushing Meadows. I’d seen him in Congleton a couple of months back and he’d asked me if was planning to go out to New York at all.

“Don’t know,” I said. “I’ll have to see if I can scrounge the money from somewhere!”

I’d resigned myself to the idea of spending time in New York City being nothing more than an elaborate and fanciful dream. I can’t afford that, not on my wages I thought. Then, that Monday, that wet Monday in August, I profoundly thought, “Sod it I’m off!”

I knew I’d have a roof over my head if I went, as the Jacobsen’s house was big – I’d eventually discover it was three stories – I just needed flight money and spending money. I took the plunge – I got my Credit Card out!

I was pleased to find out that I could get a flight from Manchester to John F Kennedy Airport – where else would I fly to? I thought it was going swimmingly well when the person said to me “When are you coming back?” I told her when.

“Oh, we’ve no flights from JFK to Manchester then, only Gatwick Airport”. Gatwick Airport – that meant an extra spice thrown into the mix – I’d have to end up coming back home via London. “Oh well, all part of the adventure!” I was now of the mindset that I was going and that was that.

Flight booked, I was America bound! I couldn’t wait.

Now at the time, as well as my day job doing the stock and ordering for a small food packing firm I worked part time at the Bulls’ Head Hotel in Congleton.  I was a Glass Collector and occasional Bar Man. I enjoyed my time at the Bulls’ Head and made many friends, some of which I am on slightly more than nodding acquaintance to this day!

The Bulls’ Head was a microcosm of Congleton. I ought to let you know a little bit about my home town. For a working class town, Congleton is a very conservative town. It has had a Conservative Member of Parliament for as long as I can remember. The people are too keen on change and aren’t impressed on anything remotely flash.

We have an ex Olympic Champion living in this town. I went to school with two of her sons. To people I know they were simply “the runner’s lads”. Equally unimpressive was anyone announcing proudly and excitedly that they were going to go to the United States of America.

On Sunday night when I was working at The Bull, I told punters I was going to New York City to visit Bouldy ( he was also known to the patrons of the pub as he’d worked there with me in previous years) on September 23^rd. Was I met with encouraging replies of “That’s great Ed!” or “You must be excited!” No! This was Congleton remember . . .

“What a bloody long way to go just to get mugged!”

Oh well, looking back, what did I expect? This town that had been home to me for over 21 years at the time was, and still is for that matter, a town that hasn't embraced change too well. It’s got better – we've noticed a change in the town since we have come back to Congleton – but there’s a long way to go.

Undeterred, I still kept my excitement for my trip to the Big Apple. I was to fly out on September 23^rd from Manchester Airport . . . that Saturday couldn't come quick enough.

That day Manchester United was due to play Manchester City. Mum said she'd record the game for me so I could watch it when I got back.  I could hardly believe it – I was finally going to the United States of America.

The flight from Manchester to New York is approximately seven hours. I had my Sony Walkman, or the equivalent that I remember getting as a birthday present a year or two before, to keep me company.  It was exciting to travel by myself to somewhere glamorous and exciting as New York City. Don’t get me wrong, it was going to be great to see my old mate Bouldy, but hey, it was New York!

It was during the flight that I had my first encounter was United States bureaucracy. I had to fill out the little green Visa waiver form.  Like a good boy I filled it in, though I was a little perplexed to be asked if I'd had any connections with the Nazi Party between 1933 and 1945 . . . but hey, you can't be too careful I guess.

The flight was landing at JFK Airport. The flight was late, so it was evening local time when I got there. When the plane landed, I was tired but oh so excited.  After the Nazi questions it wouldn't be long until it would be time for more questions, though I learned pretty quickly that you don't mess with United States’ Immigration Officers and Policemen in general.

I have to tell you this would be the first time I‘d ever seen a cop with a loaded weapon. I was standing in line waiting to get through customs, and was getting a little impatient. I’d been travelling for quite some time now and was keen to see my best mate and his girlfriend Melissa.  I was keen to get everything done. Like a good Brit, I was used to waiting in queue but was getting keen to get things moving, so I veered from the post where I was supposed to be.

“Stand by the post!” the Officer bellowed out.  My impression of a shrinking violet was excellent – I returned to the post very quickly and very sheepishly.  My turn came.

“What’s the purpose of your visit?” The Immigration Officer asked bluntly.

“Err, I’ve come to visit a friend who’s over here” I replied, nervously.

“Where is this friend?” Luckily I knew what part of New York I was going to so I had the answers. Little did I know that seventeen years later when I would be interviewed by the US Embassy in London getting my fiancé visa having answers for US government officials would be a good thing.

Eventually, I got through, collected my things and made my way to the Arrivals Lounge. When I went through the doors, I was taken aback by all the people waiting for people arriving from that flight and all the others. The frustrated celebrity in me imagine that this is what it’s like when a celebrity is met by paparazzi at Heathrow, Manchester or JFK for that matter. After all, JEK was arriving at JFK!

At first, I couldn't see Paul or Melissa, but it wasn't long before I recognized that familiar face with his mop of ginger hair.

“Ed!!!” I heard my name being called out. It was good to see friends again.  Paul was with Melissa, his sister Carole and Melissa’s sister Heather. Heather was the spitting image of Gloria Estefan. I have never forgotten that, the famous Cuban born singer was and is a favourite singer of mine.

We quickly got into Heather’s car. Now I was tired and quite easily have gone home. However Paul was keen for a beer so we went out for a drink. As we drove into the city it all seemed so surreal . . . . I was actually in New York City.

I remember sitting in the back seat of the car, taking it all in. Melissa and Heather were quick to point out certain landmarks.

We were driving on 5^th Avenue when they pointed out Tiffany’s; yes the Tiffany’s the jewelers. It was quite a lot to take in. We ended up having a beer – tried Amstel lager for the first time - then going back to the place I would call home for the next week – Cloverdale Boulevard, Queens, New York.

I was to sleep in the spare room in the basement. Sounds drastic, but this was a very nice house. It was spacious and my room had a TV and adjoining bathroom.

Sunday morning soon came. I remember waking up to be met by a tall gentleman who I soon discovered was the Master of the House – Bill Jacobsen, Melissa’s Dad.

“You must be Ed” he greeted me. It must have been strange to have strangers sleeping in your house but they would prove to be genial hosts and made me feel welcome. That Sunday we would be doing something that has lived with me for many reasons. We were going to visit the World Trade Center – yes, the place that eleven years later would tragically be the focal point for the world.

I’ve always love my Sunday newspaper. As a boy we had The Observer and The Sunday People in our household. Now I got my first taste of The New York Times. It’s still, along with The Guardian, my favourite newspaper. Little did I know I was about to read some tragic news, that peaceful Sunday in New York City.

Manchester United had been thrashed by Manchester City by 5 goals to 1!!!!!

I could not believe my eyes! There. Tucked away in a small part of the Sports section of this famous paper was news that my team had been thrashed. Paul phoned his Mum that morning to let her know I had arrived safe and sound. He also checked the result to make sure it wasn't a printing error. It wasn’t - United really had been beaten by that scoreline.

That Sunday we went on a trip round the island. I have fond memories of that trip. It was great fun and it was the first time I ever heard the name Donald Trump. The Tour Guide told everyone who could be bothered to listen "Over there is a yacht (it was a dirty great big ostentatious thing) . . . that's Donald Trump's yacht!" I remember thinking, strange though this now seems, "Who the bloody hell is Donald Trump?!" You know what, I still think that now! (A little bit of political satire there for you folks! Tell your friends, I'm here all week.)

People always think it is never sunny in England. I would have made myself quite a few dollars every time I had been asked “Does the rain remind you of England?” throughout my time in Western Massachusetts. Well it was dull and overcast that Sunday. We were to visit the” Twin Towers” that evening.

The World Trade Center was situated near Wall Street. I’ll remember the moment we approached the building. You leaned your head back as far as you could and you still couldn’t take in the enormity of the building you were seeing.

It’s a memory I'll take with me to my grave, to say I have visited that famous monument so tragically and unnecessarily taken away from us. We got to go to the top floor. As it was wet we weren't allowed to go to the top of the building, but the top floor was good enough for me. I remember looking down on The Empire State Building . . . that’s how freaking high up we were. Just writing this now, 25 years on, gives me the goosebumps

Simply Wed - A Teaser

Linda Rose – Thy Country Tis for Me

The United States of America has always held a fascination for me. Like a lot of Brits, the country that gave us John Wayne, Jimmy Cagney, Jimi Hendrix and more glamour than you can shake a stick at has always been the pot of Gold at the end of the rainbow.

The United States was what we strived for, despite what a lot people may say. Great Britain was in the doldrums after World War Two, ruined and broke after our heroic efforts in that war. We went looking to our transatlantic cousins for help.

I needed help in finding true love. I'd had my moments but was at the time in my life when I  needed someone who satisfied me completely – Ms. right, not just Ms. right now if you catch my drift!

I believe it was Eric Burdon of “The Animals” who famously sang “I'm just a soul whose intentions are good, oh Lord please don't let me be misunderstood”.  It took me a long time for me to finally appreciate myself and to find that special someone who understood me completely.

Linda Rose, the woman who I am happily married to and has encouraged me to write and write and write, was and is that special someone. We have had a wonderful life together, and  this year celebrate ten years since we first met and in November will have been married for eight years (our Bronze anniversary apparently!)

This story is the tale of how I first came to the United States of America and eventually came to live in Western Massachusetts. If someone had said to me at the beginning of the millennium that by the end of the decade I'd be happily married to a woman I met via a mutual interest in Simply Red I’d have said you were bonkers!

People have said to us that our story should have been told to Oprah - it’s supposedly that entertaining. It has not been your conventional relationship but hey, if it works, it works.

This is the story of my love affair with all things American, from the TV shows, the radio stations to the woman who has made me complete – my Linda. I’m happy to say that we proved a lot of people wrong and are, and will continue to be, “Simply Wed”.