I’ve Got a “Question” For You

25 years of ”Once in your life…”

Hello. You’ve reached Time & Temperature.

Isn’t it ridiculous when people say “I found myself in such and such place” as they’re describing some kickass vacation that they spent months planning? Are they trying to make it sound as if they accidentally wound up in Venice or Budapest? “I could have sworn I was just in Oklahoma City, now what’s this? Krakow?!?”

Twenty-five years ago this month, I found myself in Wimbledon, the posh London suburb famous for its annual tennis tournament. My sister was living with her boyfriend at the time in a house that was tailor-made for a cozy murder mystery. And I did in fact feel an awful lot like I’d just teleported there, between the jet lag and the hashish I’d been gifted upon arrival. But it wasn’t myself I found on that trip to the U.K., rather it was Erica, the woman who’d be my romantic partner, wife and the mother of our two kids.

Erica is not from the U.K. herself, but rather from Brunswick, Ohio the decidedly un-posh Cleveland suburb famous for nothing. At the time Erica was living in Manhattan, and I was living in Los Angeles, but a mutual friend connected us, and we spent an idyllic day hanging out in Queen’s Park picnicking, tossing a frisbee, and watching my sister’s problematic solicitor boyfriend almost decapitate random passers-by with his kite. Cheers, mate!

During the course of that day, we met a charming local couple, Simon and Scarlett, who’d just gotten engaged. They told us the story of his proposal—he had bought a ring, and only had the one day off from work so despite the fact that she was in a bad mood, he pushed through with his plan to take her to their favorite park and propose. Their story made us all laugh, and it stuck in my head. Especially the part about how he’d had to mildly scold her to get her out of her funk so that she would pay enough attention for him to pop the question.

This was all rather lovey-dovey, but I wasn’t conscious of any immediate romantic tension between me and Erica. For one thing, she was very much not available, given that she had a boyfriend, a 6’ 6” model/chef—sheesh, so yeah… not available. But we had a fun day hanging out nonetheless.

That night I had the crazy idea to stay up until 3am to watch the Dallas Stars play the New Jersey Devils in the Stanley Cup Finals. To keep myself awake, I noodled quietly on the guitar at the dining room table while everyone else in the house slept soundly. I didn’t think much of the ditty that came to me. It was a sweet little re-telling of Simon and Scarlett’s story from earlier that day. Two short verses and a simple chorus, and clocking in at only two minutes, it was so little and sweet that I didn’t imagine I’d ever find a home for it. But, hey, at least I’d kept myself awake long enough to watch the Stars get their asses handed to them by the stupid Devils.

Over the course of the following week, my sister and I wound up hanging out with Erica almost every day, and by the end of that week Erica and I had realized that we “liked” each other. So she disencumbered herself of her boyfriend (a really lovely guy whom I later got to know—we even went to his wedding!), and Erica and I reconvened a month later in New York City and went on our first date. Twenty-five years later, we are still together with two brilliant adult children and very cute poodle named Ziggy.

As for the tune I wrote that first night, “Question” went on to become my most played song. It was neither too little nor too sweet, it turns out. It’s been featured in movies, TV shows and advertisements. More than one musician friend has confessed to having had to learn it for a friend’s wedding. I’ve watched dozens, if not hundreds, of people get engaged in the audience while I stand on stage singing the song. It’s profoundly moving to realize that “Question” has played a part in one of the most important moments in so many people’s lives.

It has been a little weird though, I’ll admit. For instance, one night at the Vic Theater in Chicago I asked for a show of hands to see how many audience members had gotten engaged during the two and a half minutes of the song… FIFTEEN BETROTHED COUPLES raised their hands. That’s crazy. I felt like the Reverend Sun Myung Moon.

For a while thereafter, we’d allow a fellow (always a man, don’t blame me, I didn’t invent the tradition, I just chronicled it) to get up on stage and propose. Then one night in Houston the guy climbed up on stage drunker than he’d been when he’d made the original request. He was kind of a mess, not gonna lie. And the girl did say yes, but she took what felt like a very, very long moment before doing so. I got the feeling we’d pushed our luck, and since then we have left romantic hopefuls to their own devices.

A sweet proposal from a gig in Santa Ana, CA not long before we stopped acquiescing to on-stage proposal requests. Where are these lovebirds today?

So… I have a question for you.

Do you have a story about “Question” having played a part in your romantic life? I’ll open up the comments to everyone, so please let me hear from you.

Hooray for love!

yrs,

Rhett