Poems for Carol, the love of Larry's life

She had dark curly hair and perfect white teeth and it was such a beautiful contrast, like snow falling softly at midnight.

And the way she would tilt her head when she looked at him? He always thought it was sexy, flirtatious, mysterious, and later hysterical once he learned the tilt was because her brother accidentally hit her in the head with a baseball bat when she was young and she had trouble seeing out of one eye.

Not that it mattered: Carol was perfect, the love of Larry's life.

They were both from Minnesota — Larry from Sauk Rapids, Carol from St. Paul. Their first date was at a bar to watch a state high school basketball tournament game on TV. Larry had bet on a small school to win in an upset. He lost that one, but he sure won big on Sept. 21, 1957.

That's when Carol became Larry Tracy's wife.

He was in the Navy then, stationed in Virginia. He caught a ride back to Minnesota on a Tuesday, arrived on a Thursday, was married on a Saturday and then drove back to Virginia with his bride and $12 in his pocket. They had to sell their wedding gifts just to make it — not that Larry minded. He had struggled before.

His father died when he was 10, and in high school he slept on a dirt floor in the basement of the tavern where his mother worked. They would set a bowl on top of an empty peach box and place it under a water spigot to use as their sink. Their bedroom walls were flimsy cloth curtains. This, in the unforgiving Minnesota winters.

Life was better for Larry as he grew older. He served in the Navy, Air Force Reserve and Coast Guard, which led to a master's degree in education. At one point he was in business with Green Bay Packers legend Bart Starr, and for many years he traveled the world as a consultant, staying at posh resorts, eventually settling in Sarasota. He bought a gorgeous condo in Pelican Bay 40 years ago for less than $70,000, and that’s where he lived with Carol.

Ah, Carol.

Larry loved her so much that he did something remarkable. For 61 straight years he made her a card for every momentous occasion in her life: Mother’s Day, Valentine’s Day, her birthday, their anniversary, I mean he never missed a single one, not one, and almost all were personalized, poetically depicting what was good and right in their life together.

He would take out a piece of notebook paper, mark the occasion on the front and then write her a poem on the inside, often so poignant that it would make a Hallmark professional look like an instruction manual writer for hedge clippers. He would sit in his office and the words would just spill out and if it ever took more than five minutes to write, then he wasn’t doing it correctly. Why spend time analyzing it? He knew how he felt about her. He was Joe DiMaggio. She was Marilyn Monroe.

He would set the cards on the kitchen table and wait for her to open them. He would always watch and smile. She would always look up and cry.

And there were so many, hundreds perhaps, like this one from Sept. 21, 1981:

Happiness is ...

Coming home to a smiling face

Sharing a candlelight dinner

Raising two wonderful children

Not sleeping alone

Taking a walk on the beach

Running through airports

Sleeping on airplanes

Sharing ideas

Communicating without talking

Working together

Having fun

For twenty-four years

With the one you love

Happy Anniversary

Love, Larry

Larry's love for Carol was on the level that legendary college basketball coach John Wooden had for his late wife Nellie, who died in 1985. On the 21st of every month, Wooden would write his deceased wife a letter about how much he missed her, walk into his bedroom, then to her side of the bed, untie a yellow ribbon, and place his new letter on top of the stack already on her pillow. He did this for 25 years, until his own death in 2010.

Of course, behind every great poet is a little inspiration, and Larry's happened to be a high school teacher in Minnesota. Once, his class was told to write a short story and when Larry turned his in, the teacher ripped it up, threw it in the wastebasket and gave him a zero. There was no way his words were his own, the teacher told him. They were too good. And on some level Larry spent a lifetime trying to show him his feelings were his own with his poems to Carol.

At one point he took all the poems he composed, wrote them on a computer and put them in a leather-bound book that said "Memories" on the front and "Carol" on the inside.

One September day

So sunny and light

I married a lady

So pretty and bright

We had each other

And nothing more

A broom and dustpan

Behind our door

As the years passed by

We grew and grew

We danced and laughed

Our troubles were few

We added treasures

To our life

But nothing topped being

Just man and wife

Forty years

Zoomed so fast

Children and grandchildren

And memories that last

But you didn’t age honey

And that’s no lie

You’re still the greatest

To this old guy

Happy Anniversary

Love, Larry

September 21, 1997

Carol fell ill last fall. First a triple bypass, then a series of strokes. She was placed in hospice care, and when she said "damn" one day it was the first and only time Larry ever heard her swear. They laughed and laughed over that one, and when it was time for her to die she was taken home.

She sat in her favorite leather chair on their lanai so she could look at the boats in the harbor and the flowers out her window.

Larry, of course, slept in a chair by her side, always by her side, and when it came time to let go he kissed her forehead and whispered "I love you."

Carol Tracy died on Oct. 20, 2018. She was 81.

Larry, 85, now has a memorial to her inside their home. Her chair, now empty, still faces the harbor and on a table, next to a framed photo of the couple, are her ashes.

Also on the table is a framed poem. Larry says the words came to him, as they always did, though the same poem is online. Maybe he read it somewhere and remembered it. Or maybe he loved her so much that he believes he is the author when he is not. It doesn’t matter anyway. Larry is 85 and Carol is gone.

You never said I’m leaving

You never said goodbye

You were gone before I knew it

And only God knows why

A million times I needed you

A million times I cried

If love alone could have saved you

You never would have died

In life I loved you dearly

In death I love you still

In my heart you hold a place

That no one could ever fill

It broke my heart to lose you

But you didn’t go alone

For part of me went with you

The day God took you home