HOLLY NADLER

508-274-2329

(hollynadler@gmail.com)

In screwball comedies, scriptwriters used to call it meeting cute, as in Rosalind Russell falling out of a banana tree into Clark Gable’s arms, who in turn greets her, “Well, hellooo, beautiful!”

For my money the best cute meet of all time was the romantic kismet that led Oak Bluffs art dealer Holly Alaimo and jazz musician John Alaimo to hook up back in 1965. “Everyone knows the story,” Holly told me this week as I gabbed with her and John in their home on Webaqua avenue.

Well, I didn’t know it, and I was tré s enchanté by the saga, so let me share it with whomever out there thinks that romance died after Heathcliff moped on the moors for what’s her name:

First of all, just kismetically speaking, John and Holly both lived in Philadelphia and left Philly at the same time, without knowing the other existed, and yet both ended up in Hermosa Beach, Calif., in the same apartment building, John below, Holly on top (in a manner of speaking), still not knowing his and her true love was close at hand. They had a mutual male friend who kept insisting each should make the acquaintance of the other, because should they meet, he declared on no uncertain terms, they would fall in love. But still they persisted in not knowing the other from a hole in the ground until at last they locked eyes at the famed music hall, The Lighthouse, also in Hermosa Beach.

Did they tumble into the depths of passion? Not yet. But events were soon to break hard and fast: “I was skipping out on my rent,” confessed Holly, and the very next morning after the night at The Lighthouse, she bolted from her apartment with a few bags of belongings in her arms. As she dashed across the park, she nearly collided with John. He offered to help her with her portage of goods across town, and where was she planning to go, by the way? Nowhere, she replied. She was, for the moment, homeless. It was the work of a moment for John to grab a couple of bags and to propose that Holly move in with him. She accepted, although her residence in John’s pad required her to climb in and out of a back window to avoid running into her landlord.

Soon in pre-hippy fashion, they took to the road, hitchhiking up the California coast. Three days into their trip they decided to get married, and this they accomplished with the aid of a minister working out of the Santa Barbara bus station. Say what? Was this legal?

“We were never sure,” says Holly, “so we had an official wedding sometime later. We date our anniversary, however, from the ceremony at the bus station.”

An interesting element of their sojourn up Route One, with its breathtaking views of the Pacific Ocean, was that every so often Holly scaled her age downward. Whereas they’d married with the understanding that he was 25 and she was 23, she confessed to him that she was, in fact, only 22. By the next day she had worked her way down from 21 to 20 to 19 until at last, in exasperation, he cried out, “You’re at least 18, aren’t you?!”

Yes, she admitted, she was 18. And she was!

They ended up in San Francisco, where they witnessed the first inklings of the Renaissance of Wonder and Insanity that Haight-Ashbury was to become. John says, “There were seeds already sprouting, like little Romanian restaurants and tarot readers. But it didn’t really blossom until a couple of years later.” Before that could happen, although John and Holly obviously left some seeds of creativity and excitement themselves, they moved on to Sausalito and Larkspur, an area that existed half the time half under water, with wooden walkways to traipse across when high tide flooded basements and roadways.

For the grand explosion of the late sixties, the Alaimos opted for the East Coast version; they migrated to Cambridge. Nowadays they divide their time between the Vineyard and Cambridge, where they’ve acquired new lodgings to be close to their grandchildren and, of course, to the bright lights and big city that have always defined their peregrinations.

“I think the secret of our long and happy [45-year] marriage,” says Holly, “is that for a number of years we were so poor. We really learned how to pool together and that strengthened our relationship.”

It doesn’t hurt that John is handsome, dashing, kind and a wickedly talented pianist, and that Holly is beautiful, charming, sophisticated and also warm-hearted and kind. But hey, if a stretch of early poverty helped them to appreciate each other, who’s going to add the aside that most couples wage war over electric bills and cash missing from cookie jars? Some of us take it harder when cookies are missing from cookie jars.

Okay, down to brass tacks:

Movie night at the O.B. library on Thursday, April 8 at 6 p.m. will star Sandra Bullock. You know we’re not supposed to give away the title in print, but it’s based on a true story about a young man who is rescued from the projects to become an NFL football player. It’s rated PG-13, it’s free with popcorn and beverages thrown in. Okay, a hint: It rhymes with The Hind Wide. The ind-blay ide-say, get it?

The O.B. School PTO is looking for volunteers to help with the garden and greenhouse, both of which are set up for classroom curricula and to provide healthy food for the cafeteria. Please let your child’s teacher know or call the office.

At the Oak Bluffs Public Library’s technology fair last Saturday, teacher Kathy Flynn and students Lucas DeBettencourt, James Robinson, Tessa Whitaker and Alyssa Whitney demonstrated and taught people of all ages how to use computer software. The Oak Bluffs children’s librarian can now create music using Garage Band, thanks to Tessa!