And now, on a happier note; I’d like to end with a love song for my wife, Monique, who saved my life, and will always be first and last in my heart. When it comes to Monique, I could write a book; and someday, I will. But for the time being, let me begin at the beginning, and give you the short story.

Monique and I came from different worlds. Hers was fashion and design, while mine was music. I didn’t follow the society columns, and she didn’t follow rock ‘n’ roll. Monique lived on the fashionable upper East side of Manhattan, while I had a house in Connecticut: city girl, country boy.
She liked to socialize, while I preferred privacy almost to the point of being a recluse: sophisticated lady, simplistic hippie - the chic and the freak.

We had virtually nothing in common, and it’s highly unlikely our paths ever would have crossed, had it not been for fate. Some friends of mine had (just) met Monique, and she was all I heard about for weeks: the fascinating designer and "Toast of the Town" that EVERYONE seemed to know (except me). At first, this had no effect on me whatsoever; she certainly didn’t sound like my type. But as time went on, I started to develop an unaccountable curiousity I could not explain. So I asked my friends to invite her to prestigious parties, awards, and musical events, hoping to run into her casually and get introduced. It didn’t work. Monique politely declined every invitation. I took this as a good sign! Actually, I wasn’t particularly interested in girls who were into music. The road was full of them, and I’d had more than enough of that scene. I had come to realize that when a girl said, “Ooh, I just love music!” that usually meant - what ever band happened to be in town.

Finally, I invited her out to my Connecticut home for a combination record company, media listening, and press party - to celebrate the forthcoming release of our new album. But again - Monique had a previous engagment - but thanked me for the (kind and gracious) invitation. By now, it was obvious that she was just Not Interested - in me, or my life-style. Gradually, it began to dawn on me that I was actually pursuing a girl who was way out of my league, and I was striking out: big-time!

This was a strange and unnerving feeling. I was nearing the end of my rope, and I didn’t know what to do. I started asking myself, why should I care? I don’t even know this girl; I’ve never seen her, I have no idea what she looks like. But I did care, and I had to find out why. They say “opposites attract”, but that wasn’t it. This was something much bigger, much deeper: something I couldn’t fathom.

I had never been popular in school. I went to all the dances because I was always in the band; so I never dated. I was keenly aware that most of the girls who seemed so interested in me now were just infatuated with the idea of going out with a rock star. They couldn’t see me in any other way, and didn’t really care to try. For the most part, they were just looking for the next guy who was more handsome, more famous, more popular, or more powerful. And most of the guys I knew were just as eagerly looking for the next girl who was more beautiful, more seductive, more crazy, and more willing to introduce them to more girls along the same lines.

I was beginning to realize that Monique was just as indifferent to all this as I was. If I stood any chance at all with her, it would be only because she was actually interested in me as a real person, not the stage image seen by the world. As for me, I was intrigued by the possibility of meeting a girl who might have the capacity to see me as I truely was, not overshadowed by some fantasy illusion that would surely dim, begin to fade, and eventually die; leaving only the plain, ordinary person, who could never live up to that unrealistic, imaginary expectation. I’ve noticed that people in general are frequently disappointed when they find out stars are just other people.

Then I had an odd and disconcerting thought. It occured to me that I might be doing the same thing to Monique I was so concerned about others doing to me. I was developing an idealized mental image of Monique, based only on what I’d heard and thought I knew about her. I imagined her as a rare, exotic butterfly; fluttering and floating dreamlike over the mysterious, nocturnal meadows of New York night life, and I was chasing the butterfly: ever elusive, unattainable, and always just beyond my reach. But how could I make her understand? I didn’t want to capture her, or try to possess her. I was content to admire her from afar - and then get to know her - and hope she might get to know me. But we moved in such different orbits, it became clear that our worlds were just not going to collide, that is, unless someone gave fate a hand; and that someone had to be me! There was only one thing left I could think of to do. I would keep on trying until I found out how to get in touch with her directly. I would call her up myself. I would be totally honest, straightforward, and sincere. I would tell her the truth; I would explain how I felt about her and what I had been going through, and then, if I actually got that far, I would ask her out! Even if she said no and turned me down flat, I would be no worse off than I had been before; except for a bruised ego, crushed confidence, and a broken heart. Well, I could live with that. I had always been a little shy, and I remember feeling extremely nervous, a bit insecure, and very vulnerable. It was one of the hardest things I had ever done in my life, but I finally worked up enough courage to pick up the phone and make that call. It changed my life! To this day, I still have no idea exactly what it was I said to Monique that convinced her to go out with me; but what ever it was, she agreed - although with certain reservations. She made it very clear that this was not going to be a ?rock ‘n’ roll date?. I wasn’t absolutely sure how to interpret that; but I assumed she meant No Sex, and that was OK with me, that is, until I actually met her.

I loved Monique from the first moment I saw her face. She was standing there, framed in the doorway of her Park Avenue penthouse, like a work of art, too beautiful to touch; and when I recall that instant, it is as though a new door opened in my life. We had to part for one day, so that I could start putting my past in order, for I knew deep down in my heart that the next time we met, we would be together for the the rest of our lives.

We recognized one another immediately, as if we had known each other before. This feeling was so powerful, so definite, and so clear that there was no need to put it into words.

It has been 25 years now, and we still get remarried every year, on our anniversary, and have a honeymoon, just as we did the very first time. This is something we would like to share with all loving couples. We try to do something different each year. We don’t neccessarily have a formal church wedding, or actually go away somewhere for a honeymoon. It can be as simple as just the two of us, exchanging vows in some special or favorite place.

For me, part of the true meaning and depth of love is in the link between the spiritual and the physical. Love is somewhat like music in this way; it allows you to step outside yourself and experience life on another level. So many people seem to think of love as something that just happens. You fall in love, and that’s it - like some kind of accident.

There may be some truth to this, as in the case of how I met Monique; but there is another side to it as well. Like music, love must be created: that’s why they call it making love. You can’t just put love on automatic, and expect it to keep going all by itself. Remarriage helps to remind us of this by renewing that link between the spiritual, and the physical. The simple act of exchanging vows reaffirms the spiritual nature of love, while the honeymoon rekindles the flame of physical affection and romance. Just try it, and see if you don’t feel more romantic.

Well, this has been a rewarding experience. I so seldom write anything, other than in song form; the sense of freedom is exhilarating. It's fun to be able to say things without having to think about rhyme or structure.

Again, Monique and I would like to thank you all: our family, friends, and all my fans for your kindness and caring support.
Take care and God bless,

The Winters,
Edgar & Monique

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