Where the Fun Starts

By Gregory Keer

When my wife Wendy and I were still new to each other, I picked her up from the airport. This was our fourth "date," so when she said she bought me something while visiting San Francisco, I felt validated. Clearly, any woman who would give a guy a present at this juncture of the courtship must be thinking long-term.

The gift was a Magic 8 Ball®. She thought it'd be fun to ask grown-up questions of this toy from our childhood, so we queried it on everything from the silly to the naughty before I asked it one silent question. I merely smiled at the answer, "Very likely," and proceeded to drive Wendy insane by refusing to reveal what I inquired of the mystical orb. Even when she finally guessed the question, I confirmed nothing.

For months afterward, she randomly prodded me, "So what'd you ask the Magic 8 Ball®," hoping to get me to crack. I never did.

At the two-year mark, long after we'd grown so accustomed to each other that we stopped having the Magic 8 Ball conversation, Wendy grew impatient with the writer-in-search-of-his-identity boyfriend and mounted the commitment barrage. She purchased the occasional wedding magazine and said things like, "Did you hear how Jeff proposed to Cindy?" and "You're never going to marry me, are you?"

Finally, after a late-night argument during which it seemed we could not be any meaner to each other, I realized that if we could survive this kind of fight we could handle the rest of our lives together.

Cleaning out a bedside table, I noticed the old Magic 8 Ball and got the inspiration to have a ball customized with a special cube that didn't offer answers, but asked variations on the question, "Will you marry me?" I then arranged to stay with our friends Eric and Nancy up in San Francisco, where I would pop the question.

On the long weekend in that romantic city, Wendy had no clue what was planned, especially as we entered the grand FAO Schwarz toy store. While Wendy browsed through novelty items on the second floor, Eric pulled the customized Magic 8 Ball from his jacket and had it bagged by a store clerk, who gave it to me with a wink.

I went over to Wendy, who was testing a pink Slinky®, and offered her the package.

Pulling it out, she frowned. "We already have one of these."