RIGHT TIME RIGHT PLACE

They shared a birthday, now it's their anniversary

Sandy and Marvin Schwartz were married in a civil service on their birthday, Sept. 21, 1996, followed by a traditional Jewish ceremony the following week. “You know, when you hear about a marriage, everybody talks about how two people come together and they become one? Well, we always say that we are one,” Sandy says.
(Special to the Democrat-Gazette)
Sandy and Marvin Schwartz were married in a civil service on their birthday, Sept. 21, 1996, followed by a traditional Jewish ceremony the following week. “You know, when you hear about a marriage, everybody talks about how two people come together and they become one? Well, we always say that we are one,” Sandy says. (Special to the Democrat-Gazette)

The meeting Marvin Schwartz didn't need to attend was not a waste of time. Before he left, he locked eyes with Sandy Cobb.

In 1995, Sandy saw Marvin, then a grant writer for the Little Rock School District, walk into the federal grant workshop she was participating in and was thrilled when he stopped to shake her hand on his way by.

The first time I saw my future spouse:

She says: “I felt intrigued. And also there was this feeling that I hoped I would get to meet him.”

He says: “I noticed her bright blue eyes and friendly smile.”

On our wedding day:

She says: “I felt scared but happy. I didn’t know what this marriage was going to be.”

He says: “I was glad the planning was finally over, and we could get on to the actual experience.”

My advice for a long happy marriage:

She says: “You have to remember that you’re two separate people who have chosen to be together.”

He says: “Be patient and accept people’s differences while still being yourself.”

"I thought, 'Well, that's intriguing. I wonder if he'll sit by me.' Of course, he didn't, and so, as he left, I thought, 'Well, another one bites the dust,'" says Sandy, who had been divorced for 10 years at the time. "He just had this presence. He was one of those tall, dark and handsome guys your mother always warned you about, and I think it was that and that he had a nice smile, too."

Marvin had thought Sandy was lovely, hence his decision to introduce himself, and he might have sat by her, he says, but he saw his colleague sitting at the front of the room and realized he needed to move forward.

"About five minutes into the meeting, it became obvious to me that I knew all this information. I didn't need to stay at this meeting, and I could do better back at my desk," he says.

On his way out, he glanced back at Sandy, and she met his gaze.

"There was an obvious spark of interest," he says, "but each of us thought the moment had no chance to go further."

They had a common friend, as it turned out, and one of them -- they aren't clear on whether it was one or both of them who mentioned the other. That woman gave Marvin's phone number to Sandy.

Sandy, an English as a second language director for the De Queen-Mena Education Service Cooperative, called Marvin from her home in Ashdown. They struck up a series of conversations, carried on by phone, email and even fax. They discovered that they shared a birthday -- Sept. 21.

"I thought that was an indication that there was something extraordinary afoot," says Marvin, who immediately started pondering what birthday gift he might choose for her when the time came.

They talked every Sunday night, working out clues to crossword puzzles and discussing poetry.

Three weeks after they met, Sandy drove to Little Rock for their first date. Marvin brought her a book of poetry he had published a few years earlier along with two yellow roses, a spontaneous purchase on the way, which made him late.

"He didn't know I always wanted to marry a French poet," Sandy says. "When he showed up with these yellow roses ... of course, I was a little jaded at that point and I said, 'What? They didn't have red?' and he said, 'No, I knew you wanted yellow.'"

He later discovered yellow roses were her favorites and that she would have dismissed red as boring and predictable.

There were many dates after that -- dancing to jazz music at The Afterthought, listening to a mariachi band at their favorite Mexican restaurant and Marvin reading the works of Pablo Neruda aloud in Spanish to Sandy by candlelight.

"We switched roles and wrote personal ads for each other, describing the person we thought the other was seeking. It was a game where we tested how well we were getting to know each other," Marvin says.

Five months after they met, the federal grant that funded Sandy's position ended and she changed jobs, moving to Little Rock to be closer to Marvin.

Marvin proposed while stopped on a fork in the road, both he and Sandy dressed in workout clothes on their way to the gym.

"He just looked up and said, 'Hey, you want to get married on our birthday?'" she says. "It kind of caught me by surprise because I thought a poet would certainly give a more romantic proposal than that. But I just kind of sat there and I said, 'Yeah.'"

Sept. 21, 1996, fell between Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. It was a solemn period.

"No rabbi would marry us during that time," Marvin says.

They arranged for a civil ceremony with a justice of the peace in Hot Springs on their chosen date, and celebrated with a traditional Jewish wedding a week later, with Rabbi Gene Levy officiating over their large, multicultural gathering.

Marvin's father's prayer shawl covered the chuppah that was over their heads during the ceremony, and they used his grandmother's wine glass for their wine.

Their wedding rings were made by Marvin's Irish Catholic friend, engraved with the Hebrew words for "I am my beloved and my beloved is mine," from the Song of Solomon.

A vase given to Marvin by a friend held two yellow roses on the dais.

Sandy and Marvin are retired now and spend most of their time together.

"It's been 24 years now, with plans for many more, now that we're both retired and in good health," Marvin says. "For two midlife divorcees, it was a blessing to rediscover love, to share that with our families and community."

If you have an interesting how-we-met story or if you know someone who does, please call (501) 425-7228 or email:

kimdishongh@gmail.com

photo

Marvin Schwartz and Sandy Cobb met at a federal grant workshop that Marvin soon realized he didn’t need to attend. “It’s been 24 years now, with plans for many more, now that we’re both retired and in good health,” Marvin says. “For two midlife divorcees, it was a blessing to rediscover love, to share that with our families and community.” (Special to the Democrat-Gazette)

High Profile on 02/23/2020

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