The study date | Wisconsin Jewish Chronicle

The study date

She said her name was Ellie, short for Elaine. We met in a statistics class and seemed to like each other. We didn’t date because I was working nights with two bands on campus every Friday and Saturday, and on holidays. So we agreed to have a study date. Ellie had no problem getting dates on the weekends.  

In Wisconsin, study dates meant you met to study together and nothing else. We studied at the Memorial Library, some quiet corner in the Union, at her apartment on Henry Street and in our apartment on Gilman Street that I shared with Bill Adams and Armin Freifeld.  

On one warm night in particular, we finished up at the library and decided to go to the Union and maybe sit on the Terrace. We walked across Langdon Street, through the Union, through the Rat, and onto the Terrace. Ellie said we should walk onto the pier that poked its way into Lake Mendota. And so we did. 

At the end of the pier, we sat with our feet over the side and Ellie put her arm around my shoulder. After a few minutes, she took my face in her hands and kissed me on the lips. 

“I always wondered how a trumpet player’s lips felt,” she said. “And?” “Well, I could feel that imprint on your upper lip from your mouthpiece, and you felt strong and yet very soft.”  

I told her she felt absolutely delicious. 

“You silly goose, you use that term a lot.” 

“Yes, I do, but it’s special with your lips.” 

“Alan, I know we have not really dated, and have only known each other for two months, but I am falling in love with you,” she said.  

“Oh no,” I said. “That will ruin a perfectly good friendship!” 

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Inside the grand entrance of Memorial Union, University of Wisconsin-Madison. Wikipedia photo.

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These essays — are works of creative nonfiction and memoir from Alan S. Wolkenstein, obm. He was a clinical professor of family medicine with the University of Wisconsin School of Medicine and Public Health, a father, a grandfather, and a native West-Sider. We are grateful to Alan for all the colorful stories he has brought to our pages before — often on his life in Jewish Milwaukee — and to his son Evan, for allowing us to publish these works. For a note from Evan, click here.