Tweet
A columnist at the local paper.
I hear she said yes.
I buried the lead again
By DAN BROWN, ONLINE EDITOR
I met Amanda Taccone in 2003.
She and I were both toiling at the CBC’s headquarters in downtown Toronto, so work was the first thing we had in common. We now have a lot more in common — so much, I can’t imagine a future without her.
It took only a handful of dates for me to realize she’s special. She made me laugh. She made me think. She made my blood race.
We hit it off for the same reason I get along with all my close friends: Amanda and I share a common outlook on life, both of us viewing the world through a prism made out of what could be called old-fashioned values.
Like me, Amanda treasures loyal friends and the simple pleasures of home. Raised by Italian immigrants, the driving force in her life is her family.
And although she’s nine years my junior, the generation gap doesn’t get in the way.
The only time I notice the age difference is when we talk about Star Trek. For me, Star Trek means Captain Kirk; for her, it means that bald guy.
What I also came to appreciate is her generosity. She is such a giving individual, I suspect the universe sent her into my life to teach me how to be supportive.
Given enough space, I could list numerous instances of her selflessness. Let me share just one small example.
This summer we took a trip to St. Jacobs, the town north of Kitchener that combines the simple charms of Mennonite life with the convenience of modern outlet shopping.
In the mall across from the open-air market there’s a print shop. Something on the wall caught my eye . . . looking closer, I spied a striking print depicting an empty Muskoka chair resting on a sand dune above a lakeshore. While not great art, it spoke to my love of Lake Huron.
A few weeks later, I met Amanda out front of the SilverCity theatre here in London. She called me over to her car, opened the trunk . . . and there was the painting. She had hunted it down at another store with one goal in mind: To bring me some small measure of happiness.
A fellow web journalist, she inherited the work ethic of her parents. She is also adaptive, easily learning the various new jobs thrown her way at CBC and now CTV.
Which isn’t to say we’re alike in every way. We’re not. For starters, she is much more tech-savvy than me. She also has a much softer personality.
Amanda reminds me of the old slogan for Ivory Soap: “Mild enough to use every day.” To know Amanda is to like her. She gets along with everyone, which isn’t a bad thing, just a tribute to her inner beauty. I’m not like that. Owing to my cantankerous nature, I’m an acquired taste.
The pairing of a cranky country boy from Coldstream and an angelic suburban girl from Woodbridge seems an unlikely one, I know.
We were drawn to each other by our shared interest in the simple things in life. Our perfect day as a couple would be one spent on the couch talking and reading and generally doing nothing. It would be capped off with one of her amazing home-cooked meals — did I mention she makes a mean spaghetti al oleo? I have always loved Italian food, so it was my good fortune to fall for a great cook.
With her cuisine and in so many other ways, Amanda sustains me.
If you’ve read Mary Stewart’s Merlin trilogy you’ll recall how Stewart describes the mythical King Arthur as having the ability to lend strength to those around him. When his knights gather around their leader, they come away refreshed — being close to Arthur is like drinking from a spring of cool water, Stewart writes. Amanda has the same effect on me.
Amanda says I make her stronger. The truth is she’s the strong one. I have had some challenging moments in the last couple years owing to my multiple chronic health problems and she has stood by me through all of them. I’m a handful at the best of times and she has seen me through the worst of my sickness.
The reason I’m sharing my feelings with you is I like to think I’m good with words. However, the people who know my writing best — my editors over the years at different websites and newspapers — have all detected the same weakness in my prose: I tend to bury the lead, to take a long time getting to the point of my columns.
It looks as though I’ve done it again with this one. The truly important stuff is at the end.
That’s because — although this column has been about my shared past with Amanda — it’s really about the years to come. It’s about taking a leap of faith by asking the question that will determine our future.
What I’m trying to say is: Amanda, will you marry me?
By DAN BROWN, ONLINE EDITOR
I met Amanda Taccone in 2003.
She and I were both toiling at the CBC’s headquarters in downtown Toronto, so work was the first thing we had in common. We now have a lot more in common — so much, I can’t imagine a future without her.
It took only a handful of dates for me to realize she’s special. She made me laugh. She made me think. She made my blood race.
We hit it off for the same reason I get along with all my close friends: Amanda and I share a common outlook on life, both of us viewing the world through a prism made out of what could be called old-fashioned values.
Like me, Amanda treasures loyal friends and the simple pleasures of home. Raised by Italian immigrants, the driving force in her life is her family.
And although she’s nine years my junior, the generation gap doesn’t get in the way.
The only time I notice the age difference is when we talk about Star Trek. For me, Star Trek means Captain Kirk; for her, it means that bald guy.
What I also came to appreciate is her generosity. She is such a giving individual, I suspect the universe sent her into my life to teach me how to be supportive.
Given enough space, I could list numerous instances of her selflessness. Let me share just one small example.
This summer we took a trip to St. Jacobs, the town north of Kitchener that combines the simple charms of Mennonite life with the convenience of modern outlet shopping.
In the mall across from the open-air market there’s a print shop. Something on the wall caught my eye . . . looking closer, I spied a striking print depicting an empty Muskoka chair resting on a sand dune above a lakeshore. While not great art, it spoke to my love of Lake Huron.
A few weeks later, I met Amanda out front of the SilverCity theatre here in London. She called me over to her car, opened the trunk . . . and there was the painting. She had hunted it down at another store with one goal in mind: To bring me some small measure of happiness.
A fellow web journalist, she inherited the work ethic of her parents. She is also adaptive, easily learning the various new jobs thrown her way at CBC and now CTV.
Which isn’t to say we’re alike in every way. We’re not. For starters, she is much more tech-savvy than me. She also has a much softer personality.
Amanda reminds me of the old slogan for Ivory Soap: “Mild enough to use every day.” To know Amanda is to like her. She gets along with everyone, which isn’t a bad thing, just a tribute to her inner beauty. I’m not like that. Owing to my cantankerous nature, I’m an acquired taste.
The pairing of a cranky country boy from Coldstream and an angelic suburban girl from Woodbridge seems an unlikely one, I know.
We were drawn to each other by our shared interest in the simple things in life. Our perfect day as a couple would be one spent on the couch talking and reading and generally doing nothing. It would be capped off with one of her amazing home-cooked meals — did I mention she makes a mean spaghetti al oleo? I have always loved Italian food, so it was my good fortune to fall for a great cook.
With her cuisine and in so many other ways, Amanda sustains me.
If you’ve read Mary Stewart’s Merlin trilogy you’ll recall how Stewart describes the mythical King Arthur as having the ability to lend strength to those around him. When his knights gather around their leader, they come away refreshed — being close to Arthur is like drinking from a spring of cool water, Stewart writes. Amanda has the same effect on me.
Amanda says I make her stronger. The truth is she’s the strong one. I have had some challenging moments in the last couple years owing to my multiple chronic health problems and she has stood by me through all of them. I’m a handful at the best of times and she has seen me through the worst of my sickness.
The reason I’m sharing my feelings with you is I like to think I’m good with words. However, the people who know my writing best — my editors over the years at different websites and newspapers — have all detected the same weakness in my prose: I tend to bury the lead, to take a long time getting to the point of my columns.
It looks as though I’ve done it again with this one. The truly important stuff is at the end.
That’s because — although this column has been about my shared past with Amanda — it’s really about the years to come. It’s about taking a leap of faith by asking the question that will determine our future.
What I’m trying to say is: Amanda, will you marry me?
I hear she said yes.
Comment