In the fall of 1948, a year after Char and I were married, we arrived at an annual medical fraternity dance in Philadelphia.
As Herb, a medical colleague, saw us enter, he turned to his group, announcing, `Look at these ——! They refuse to pick up their wedding present.'
The previous year, at a chance meeting six months after our wedding, Herb's greeting was, `We have a gift for you. Come over some time to get it.'
We didn't "come over for it," because it was a crude way of offering a gift. Herb never specified a time. It was just his style. He never really put himself out. It would have been just as easy for him to mail it, or tell us to come next Tuesday.
Some time elapsed. We moved to Somerville, N.J. Then, years later, Char's brother Harvey called from Philadelphia, "Hi, Sis! Guess what? I was doing a decorating job at this doctor's house and I asked him if he knew Al Conston. He said, `Al's your brother-in-law? Just a minute.' He went to a closet, took out a package, and asked me to deliver it."
Harvey drove up to our New Jersey home the following Sunday. We examined our delayed gift, a Pennsylvania Dutch plate from Herb inscribed with our names and the date of our wedding, June 1, 1947.
This special delivery arrived in 1964, only 17 years late.