Elvira and Fritz

They met on a subway platform.  Something had gone wrong with the train, and the passengers were asked to get off.  Elvira was slender, dark-haired and had been born in Bogotá, Colombia.   Fritz was tall, handsome and had been born in Winburg, Pennsylvania. 

He tried to explain to her what was happening on the subway, but she didn’t understand English.  He had learned some Japanese during the war, but that didn’t help as she only spoke Spanish.  Still, in the end, he managed to give her his telephone number.

She had moved here from Caracas, and was living with a friend.  She said to her friend, “I’m afraid here in the city.  I want you to meet this man and tell me what you think."  It must have been a good meeting, because they saw each other for two years, went to the movies, walked in the park, and married the day after Christmas in 1964. When asked to share the wisdom which has kept them together for 46 years, Fritz, bed-bound but looking younger than his 83 years, said in a booming voice, “We get along!”

There is a picture on the wall in their apartment of the two of them, painted decades ago. 

She looks like a young Ava Gardner; he resembles a Romantic poet.  It could break your heart.

Elvira worked at Lulu Hats for 37 years.  She had a stroke two years ago and only goes out for doctor’s appointments.  At home she always keeps an eye on her husband in case he needs or wants anything.  He knows this, and there is nothing else that means as much.

Fritz was an elevator operator, for a long time at the Waldorf Astoria hotel.   Of all the famous and infamous people he encountered, the one he remembers best is Edith Piaf.  What has kept his spirits so high? "I like everything!" he said.  Followed by "I like everybody!" Even now that’s true.  As soon as a photographer who was visiting them walked out of the apartment, Fritz said in a decisive voice, "That girl has a heart of gold.  I can always tell."

They are particular about what they watch on television.  Elvira likes shows with good stories, not a lot of killing.  They are serious fans of Lawrence Welk.  And they are both strong supporters of Mayor Bloomberg.  They think New York city has changed for the better during his time in office, and they like the idea that he is a ‘regular guy.’  "Before the election he called me,"  Elvira said, "and asked me to vote for him."  She did.

Citymeals means a lot.  Elvira leaves the apartment rarely, and Fritz can’t get out of bed.  They say the food is very good and they look forward to it.  It makes a big difference in their lives at a time when making a difference is very important.  It means that they can stay home.  Together.