Nat King Cole: That’s All

Today marks my 2nd wedding anniversary. It’s funny, but my wife Tina just observed the other day how time seems to have flown by so fast. It’s almost cliché: first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage. The fact that my life has taken a decidedly nursery-rhyme turn for the better would have filled me with dread during my bachelor years. The last thing I wanted to happen then would be for my life to be ordinary. But it seems that “a life quite ordinary” is precisely where I am headed, and the prospect fills me with much joy.

Earlier, I woke up quite early to bring Tina to her badminton quorum at West Drive Badminton Center along West Capitol Drive, Barrio Kapitolyo. Near the end of her game, a friend from work, Vince Cruz suggested that since I don’t play badminton, maybe next time I could just drop her off and she could hitch a ride to work with him or one of the badminton players. Oddly enough, that arrangement never crossed my mind, and Vince’s good intentions notwithstanding, I would not consider taking him up on his offer. Despite the fact that I am a faux morning person with little inclination to pick up a racket and play this rather fascinating indoor sport (alas, I remain too much of a misogynist to consider playing any sport which involves a cock), I really enjoy taking my wife, well, anywhere. With her, even the ordinary becomes quite extraordinary, and even though I seem to have trapped myself into expressing the mundane in the most artless way, that’s precisely how I feel.

Later, we hie off to Il Ponticello, “the scene of the crime”, for dinner. One reason why I like taking her to Il Ponticello for our anniversary stems from the fact that “Ponti” bridges the gap between my carefree bachelor life and the wedded bliss I currently enjoy. I will always remember Ponti with fondness: how else could I feel about a bar whose bathroom tiles I know rather intimately? The smoke-filled days of wine, women and song, (okay, maybe not the women, but the prospect of women, which my blurry memory can always magnify into magnificently fictional encounters with women I’ve spent most of my life not having) seem to have segued rather smoothly into an enjoyment of fine Italian dining (it seems Ponti served excellent Italian food, a fact which escaped me during my younger years). And a beautiful house we don’t spend enough time in. And a beautiful son we can’t get enough of.

Happy Wedding Anniversary Sweety. Life certainly is grand. Take it away, Nat.

I can only give you love that lasts forever
And a promise to be near each time you call,
And the only heart I own
For you and you alone,
That’s all, that’s all.

I can only give you country walks in springtime
And a hand to hold when leaves begin to fall,
And a love whose burning light
Will warm the winter night,
That’s all, that’s all.

If you’re wondering what I’m asking in return, dear,
You’ll be glad to know that my demands are small.
Say it’s me that you’ll adore
For now and ever more,
That’s all, that’s all.