All There Is

by Dave Isay

  Scott Wall: I was single and feeling lonely on New Year’s Eve. I was living in the Bronx at the time, and a few friends asked me to come over to their apartment for champagne, but I was restless, so I wandered the streets of Manhattan. I ended up in the Paris Café, and I happened to look over at the corner of the bar, and there was this ravishingly beautiful woman sitting by herself, wearing a beautiful dress with Ava Gardner gloves and her hair was all done up. So I approached her and introduced myself.

  Isabel Sobozinsky-Wall: It was just a little bit after midnight—January 1, 1992, and I thought right away, Here’s somebody special.

  Scott: I was very surprised when you asked me for my ID.

  Isabel: I had been told that Manhattan is so big and scary and you just don’t know who you’re running into. I was from San Francisco, visiting a friend in New York, so I wanted to make sure you were who you said you were. Then you and I just wandered around the Lower East Side.

  Scott: We talked all night. When you went back to California, I dropped you off at the airport. I remember we stayed in the parking lot for a couple hours, like we were at some drive-in.

  We kept in touch by writing letters, and then we started making cassette tapes. I commuted into Manhattan, and I had a little Walkman, so on those one-hour commutes into town I would just interview anybody I saw. I would interview the brakeman on the subway. I’d say, “I know this girl in San Francisco I really dig, and I’d like you to say hello to her.” So I was just sharing my joy about the feelings that I had for you with the world.

  Isabel: You even took it to the dentist once!

  Scott: I sent them to you as a surprise, and then you started sending them back to me.

  Isabel: You asked strangers, but I asked people I knew, like my mom. Also, I worked at the general hospital at the time, and so I’d get to work early and I’d record the coffee grinder.

  Scott: I’d get really excited when the mail came in. I kept them in my Walkman, and I played them over and over. We were courting each other from such a long distance, so playing them was comforting. You’re only hearing voices, so I was imagining the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. I was just thinking of all these beautiful scenes and trying to imagine what it would be like to be there.

  Isabel: We’d also send each other things we wanted to share, small gifts. I knew that you were smitten when you sent me your grandmother’s toaster, and there was a card with it that said, “I hope some day to be there with you when you toast my English muffins for me.” [Laughs.] I used to reread your letters a lot, and of course I used the toaster. And then you sent me the salt and pepper shakers from your grandma too.

  Scott: I was giving you all my private possessions.

  Isabel: You were gradually moving in without me knowing it. You came out to visit me in April.

  Scott: On the plane back, I just said, This is it. This is the girl. But I didn’t know, how do we make this work?

  Over the phone I said I’d like to come out there for an extended stay, and see how it works. You were cautious but encouraging, and so I ended up selling everything I owned and driving out in Daisy, my 1966 Oldsmobile, to stay with you.

  Isabel: It took you almost a month. I remember you called, and you said, “I’m across the Golden Gate.” So I rushed home, and I opened the window—and there you were!

  Scott: It was really just the most incredible experience, coming all that way and knowing that I was going to see this beautiful girl that I had fallen in love with. It was really the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. So we moved in together. I’m glad we didn’t hesitate.

  Isabel: In six months we became friends through our letters and our tapes and our phone calls. But the wedding part was later.

  Scott: That was seven years in the making. I remember I went to a party one night, and our friend Andrea said to me, “Girlfriends don’t want to be girlfriends forever, you know.” That’s when the lightbulb went off: “Oh, I should ask her to marry me?” And she just nodded. Happiness is happiness. I didn’t want anything to change, and really nothing has.

  You’ve made me the happiest man that I know, and I want to thank you for being my friend and my wife and my counselor, my adviser, and my organizer. And I just want you to know I need you every day.

  Isabel: Ditto for me—to all that.

  Recorded in San Francisco, California, on February 13, 2011.

  PAUL CHOU, 49, talks with his wife, KAREN HUANG, 51

  Paul Chou: I came out to San Francisco for my family reunion in August of 1990. My cousin Hedy and her then fiancé Jack promised me that they would call some friends who might be willing to go out on a date with me. They went to work, calling these various women. Fortunately, you called them back.

  Karen Huang: You were sitting at the restaurant with your cousins, and I thought, He’s pretty good-looking. [Laughs.] We started talking. You were one of the happiest people I have ever come across. And when you would talk about things that you had been doing and things that you wanted to do, it sounded incredibly appealing, like it would just be a fun life with you.

  Paul: By the end of the evening I remember you handing me your business card, and I said that I would keep in touch. I called from my family reunion and asked if you would allow me to take you to dinner, and then would you take me to the airport? I guess we continued our conversation on the pay phone rather enthusiastically—I remember my cousins wondering why I was paying no attention to them or the rest of my family, standing on the street for two hours.

  We had a great dinner, and then you took me to the airport. You saw me off—no peck on the cheek, nothing like that. But I remember getting on the airplane thinking, This could be interesting. So I wrote a letter through the night, and then sent the letter when I got home. And come to find out that you had also done the same thing.

  Karen: I was really resisting having any feelings of liking you, because you lived in Pennsylvania, which was extremely far away. I had never been there. And I had this nice career going. I owned a house in San Francisco. I had a whole life in California, so why even get into any kind of entanglement with you? It just seemed crazy. But then, obviously, I really liked you.

  We wrote a lot. I think we built up a lot of intimacy with all that communicating. It’s like writing an essay every single day about some new topic. We would write about everything.

  Paul: A lot happened in those letters, as I remember. I couldn’t help being somewhat flirtatious, just because it was kind of fun and innocent enough.

  Karen: You were plenty flirtatious, but you didn’t make a pass at me for a long time.

  Paul: Soon we were spending three hundred dollars a month on phone bills, flying back and forth, so I think we cut to the chase about things.

  But for me, the catalyst was when my mom died in a car accident suddenly, in November. I remember I was supposed to meet your family for Thanksgiving.

  Karen: You called me, and you said, “I can’t come out for my visit, because my mom and dad were in a car crash and my mom passed away.” Initially, you didn’t want me to come with you.

  Paul: It forced me to figure out whether or not you should be a part of this kind of . . . sadness. You hadn’t met my mom, hadn’t met my dad or my sister. You were still a new relationship for me. That was . . . that was a hard time. And I think, if I regret anything, it’s that she never had a chance to meet you. But you really wanted to be a part of my family’s life—for good or for bad.

  I didn’t know if my dad would be willing to meet you for the first time under such duress. Fortunately, he did want to see you. He knew how important you were to me; my mom had put your photo on the refrigerator, which she never did with any of the girlfriends I had before. I will always admire my father for making a sign to welcome you, even though he had a broken arm from the car accident.

  Karen: I reme
mber your dad being so warm. Here’s somebody who had just lost his wife, and he was very, very sad, but he was still so engaged. I just remember him making me feel very welcome and comfortable.

  Paul: It was a tough time, but it built strength between us. As much as I miss my mom, maybe that’s what she did for us.

  In February, I flew out to Stanford and surprised you.

  Karen: I was at work, and my colleague said, “Oh, we forgot to tell you: We have to go across campus to see the new dean at the chapel.” So we were kind of jogging across campus, because we were late, and as we walked into the sanctuary I noticed some violin music. It wasn’t until we were pretty far into the church that I realized that it was you, and that you were playing the Winter Movement from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. I remember you were wearing your tweed jacket, and you were playing all by yourself. There was this older couple sitting in one of the front pews, just in rapt attention, listening to you. I didn’t know what was going on: Why are you doing this performance in the church? And then I kind of got an inkling. When you finished you came over to me and you asked me if I would marry you. It was incredibly romantic and incredibly surprising.

  I remember one of the things I said to you during our vows at the wedding was that I looked forward to seeing your happy face every morning. I still do.

  Paul: You know, you are still all I imagined you would be—except more of it. You’re smart. You’re generous. I guess, most of all, you’re just lots of fun to be around. Thanks, Karen. For a wonderful life.

  Recorded in Chevy Chase, Maryland, on May 20, 2010.

  RACHEL PEREZ SALAZAR, 43, talks with her husband, RUBEN PAUL SALAZAR, 39

  Rachel Perez Salazar: It was January 10, 2007, and you were working at a computer lab in Waco.

  Ruben Paul Salazar: I got to work, and first thing I did was crank up my e-mail. I discovered one that I didn’t know who it was from, addressed to “RP Salazar.” I figured, Hey, my e-mail is almost the same exact thing, so they probably sent it to the wrong person. And so I dug up this Rachel Salazar name, and I wrote a little message—“Hi, Rachel, holá, it seems as if this message came to me instead of you. I’m in Waco, Texas, USA.” And the salutation was, “Ruben P. Salazar, Chicano Cyclist, Commuter and Community Artist.” “PS, how’s the weather there in Bangkok?” Because I saw that you were in Bangkok, Thailand.

  Rachel: And I wrote to you: “Hi, Ruben, holá, thanks for forwarding the message. You’ll probably get a few more stray ones now that you’ve been included in the loop. Weather in Bangkok is lovely; it’s the best time to visit. Gracias, Rachel.”

  Ruben: And so began a chain of your replies to my reply and me replying to your replies, and so on. I just imagined, Here’s this middle-aged woman that’s just kind of bored at work—that’s why she’s replying to me. But I happened to hover my pointer over your name on one of those e-mails, and a picture of you popped up, and I was, like, Wow, she’s really beautiful! How can I make this picture bigger? [Laughs.] That just blew me away.

  Rachel: Every conversation that we had right from the get-go was natural. There was nothing awkward, nothing strange.

  Ruben: I kind of just opened myself up and told you who I am, the good things, the bad things. I know I told you repeatedly that I’m a stubborn type of person. I don’t think I left anything unsaid. I was excited that this person is halfway around the world, you know? She can’t see me, she can’t hear me, but I can tell her all these things. It’s kind of like sending a letter in a bottle to the ocean.

  By February or March, we were on the computer sometimes for four or five hours.

  Rachel: I wrote a handwritten letter to you on a plane. I actually managed to write eight pages, and I have it here in front of me. I started describing the flight to you—I wrote to you about the meal, how the flight attendants kept looking at me and wondering, Who is this girl writing to? She’s been writing the whole time.

  I think around page six or seven I got serious and started talking to you about my future: “The future still looks a little bit fuzzy to me. I know life has a way of interrupting the best laid plans, but I am prepared for it.” When I look at that statement, in hindsight, you are that interruption.

  Honestly, I don’t think I was thinking about you in any romantic sense, probably until June.

  Ruben: Whereas I looked upon you romantically the first time I saw your picture.

  Rachel: But then I realized I kept telling you things I didn’t even tell my mom. Then you sent me flowers. I kept the card for it; you wrote, “Chica naranja, thank you for all you do, and thank you always for this newfound friendship we have happened upon. RPS.”

  Ruben: It sounds cheesy.

  Rachel: I know, but it was romantic. I loved it.

  Ruben: I had asked you for your telephone number, because I wanted to hear your voice. At some point I called you, then I finally had a voice to go with the words that I was reading.

  Rachel: I was also excited: Wow! He sounds so real! By then we were practically best friends.

  Ruben: I would talk to my coworkers: “We know so much about each other. In a weird kind of way, I have feelings for her already, but I don’t know if she has them back for me.” It really felt like you were my girlfriend, even if it was just an electronic thing.

  Then you just kind of threw out that you might come to the U.S., because you have family here, and my reply was, “If you’re ever in Texas, come over and I’ll be glad to show you around the state.” I never would have thought in my wildest dreams that you would actually take me up on that!

  Rachel: That was August already. We were talking to each other on the phone practically every day, and I was writing to you more. We were past the stage of just talking about the weather. We were easing into talking about more serious things.

  I didn’t want to show you my feelings. I knew that I was falling in love, but at the back of my mind, there’s still that tiny little bit of doubt that this might not work: We were nine thousand miles away from each other—halfway across the world. But at some point I finalized my plans to visit the U.S., and I decided that I was going to go to Texas and meet this guy. But I didn’t tell anyone. Everyone would have said, You’re foolish to go halfway across the world to meet some strange guy! But I knew in my heart, I’m meeting my destiny.

  Ruben: And on my end, every relative, every friend, every coworker—everyone knew. They’re like, “No way she’s coming! She doesn’t even know you!” You stayed with me for a week.

  Rachel: We were e-mailing for eight months, and finally for eight days we were together. I had the greatest time of my life.

  Ruben: I remember we were dancing one night, and you mentioned something to the effect that no one . . .

  Rachel: —I said you were the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. No one has ever been that tender to me.

  Ruben: I knew right at that moment: I need to say something or do something so that I don’t lose you. And so I got on my knee and asked you to marry me.

  Rachel: And I said yes. Deep in my heart I knew it was coming, and it was the right thing, and it was the best thing.

  Two days later I had to go to California and leave you, but I came back, and we got married here in Waco, November 24, 2007.

  Ruben: And we just celebrated our third wedding anniversary.

  You know what the weird thing is, though? When you told your family that I proposed to you, they weren’t so excited. And I would hear that too. When I told people I proposed to Rachel—You what?! Followed by five minutes of laughter. [Laughs.] People didn’t believe me, and some of them had second thoughts for me. But it was hard to describe to people—you weren’t a stranger.

  Rachel: Yes, but now they all tell us: You’re perfect for each other. You found the right match!

  Ruben: Expect the unexpected. You laid your heart on the line in those e-
mails, and you are the way you wrote yourself to be.

  Recorded in Waco, Texas, on November 27, 2010.

  KELLY KRIEG-SIGMAN, 51, talks with her husband, MICHAEL SIGMAN, 55

  Kelly Krieg-Sigman: When I first saw you I thought you were an alcoholic. I was involved in community theater, and after rehearsal I would go to a bar in Manitowoc called The Sting. Every time I was there I saw you sitting at the end of the bar all by yourself, hunched over a cup of coffee. And every night at exactly seven minutes to eleven you threw money on the bar, grabbed your coat, and headed out the door as fast as you were able. Based on my bartending training and instincts, I thought, Something’s going in that coffee besides coffee. I suffered under this delusion for quite a number of weeks, until one night you came over and joined us.

  Michael Sigman: At the time I was working overnight at a radio station. I had to get up in the middle of the day, and I would have lunch at The Sting. One day I heard your voice, and I thought, I’m desperate for a date to go to the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra concert in Manitowoc. I’ve run through everybody else I know, and they’ve all turned me down. I think you ended up being number fifty-eight.

  So I came over and asked you to go on a date with me the next day. The symphony was a relatively hot ticket—I wouldn’t call it completely hot, but you wanted to go see it, which surprised me.

  Kelly: One of the biggest risks I have ever taken in my personal life was agreeing to go out with you, because I had no idea what I was getting into. But you spoke in complete sentences, and you seemed very earnest and genuine, so I thought, How bad can he be? And you weren’t that much bigger than me, so I figured I could take you if I had to . . .

  Michael: When I picked you up for the date—

  Kelly: You had a three-piece suit on. Broke my heart.

  Michael: —And a red Datsun station wagon with one yellow door, which of course was further cause for concern. So we had a nice dinner, and we went to the concert—