On February 22, 2025, a Second 'Miracle on Ice' Wondrously Vanquished My Lifelong Bachelor Status
On the 45th anniversary of the greatest sporting event of my lifetime, out on my dream pond, I successfully created my own Miracle on Ice, thanks to Kerry saying "YES!!!" to my marriage proposal
True story: For a good many years when I lived in D.C. through its fickle, too often winter-less winters I dreamed of one day finding the right girl and proposing to her out on a secluded frozen pond somewhere, taking a knee in my hockey skates. Call me a Frozen Hopeless Romantic.
Moving to Maine five years ago certainly helped my cause. Do I ever have a hidden-in-the-woods paradise of a skating pond just down the road a bit. Now all I needed was the girl.
When I first wrote about Kerry last spring, celebrating our life-transforming second date, I purposely omitted one key detail about that day: How it rendered me sleepless that night, as I tossed and turned in bed with a conviction that I was going to . . . marry her. When you know, you know.
“Great moments are born from great opportunity,” Herb Brooks told his 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team in the locker room moments immediately before their showdown with the vaunted Soviet Union in Lake Placid. And that’s what I had this past Saturday morning out on the ice of Lavers Pond in Freeport, Maine — the opportunity of a lifetime.
Under a near perfect blue sky in frosty temps I guided Kerry out onto my all-time favorite skating sanctuary, fell to a knee in my Bauers, and asked her to be my “linemate for life.” She was more than shocked and overwhelmed by the moment, but with trembling limbs and tear-filled eyes she consented, making me the happiest pond hockey player in all of Maine. In the event that the picture below isn’t worth a thousand words to you, there are about 1,000 additional words of celebration below it.
This past November I knew with such conviction of the hold that Kerry had over my heart that I ordered an engagement ring. On my very first skate of the new pond hockey season the next month I shared the big news with one of my all-time favorite pond hockey teammates, Paige Rinaldi, an accomplished multi-star athlete at Freeport High and the University of Southern Maine. Paige got giddy from the news. More: She awakened my frozen pond proposing dream, imploring me to take Kerry out on Lavers this winter and ask her the Question there, and surprise her. More: Paige then pledged to hover around us with a camera on the big skate and capture imagery of the blessed moment.
Paige and her father Marty and I were on a team that won a charity pond hockey championship together in February 2020, and so we share a special frozen pond bond. I was reminded of that success we achieved together as I shared my exciting news with Paige and absorbed her enthusiastic reaction; it reminded me of the hugs we shared seconds after we scored in overtime in the championship game. And I loved suddenly having an accomplice in this winter love scheme to remember.
My ring was ready for retrieval in Boston on December 23, and my beloved Washington Capitals were in Boston to play the Bruins that night. Fate.
As January progressed and our pond ice thickened dramatically and Paige and Marty and I and the rest of our pond pals skated perhaps more than we’d ever skated together before I began thinking about a specific proposal date. I’d judged Christmas, New Years Eve, and Valentine’s Day cliched; Kerry’s birthday was on February 18, a Tuesday, and she’d be working; the following Saturday, however, would still fall in the chilly part of our pond’s calendar . . . and . . . it just happened to be the most sacred day in the calendar of American hockey. I had my date with destiny.
Paige met me at a Freeport bar last Thursday, to go over a timeline for Saturday morning as well as rehearse her role for being out on the pond with Kerry and me without betraying the big surprise. We knew the weather was going to be perfect. We sipped wine and spent a couple of hours discussing romance and relationships. We were terrific teammates again.
Paige Rinaldi, frozen pond proposal heroine
On Friday evening I shared word of my scheme by email to my pond hockey pals. I needed some ‘alone’ time out on our pond before early Saturday a.m. ice maintenance and that day’s skate. Jim Donoghue quickly asked if he could come down to the pond early and be a part of my Miracle on Ice. He gave Kerry her first formal ice skating lesson, on Lavers, earlier this winter. I badly wanted Jim with us, for miracles on ice are every bit as much in his heart as mine, and he like Paige is a special pond pal to me. Jim actually captured a few proposal images on his phone, ones that I was able to swiftly share with family and friends, while Paige captured dozens more with a professional camera.
I had a sort-of script to share with Kerry while kneeling on the ice before her, poignant and heart-felt bullet points I thought of as proof of my heart’s yearning. Things like, There’s only one woman I want to skate Maine’s frozen ponds with; I need a permanent partner for hikes through snowy Maine woods; There’s only one woman I want to slow cooker and fine wine with during big snowstorms; and No woman has ever inspired my writing as you have. But in the frosty fright of the moment they all eluded me. I was after all about to surrender all of my 55-plus years as a lifelong bachelor. All I could stammer out as I extended the ring in its box to Kerry was this: “I need you to be my linemate for life.”
What I was not prepared to experience while on bended knee on the ice Saturday was Kerry instantly becoming physically overcome with emotion by my proposal. It wasn’t merely her hand trembling the instant she opened the ring box and realized its contents; she suddenly grew palpably unsteady on her skates, her whole frame actually convulsing. And understand, she’d gained a skating newcomer’s independence from me, or any other instructor who’s worked with her this winter, more than a month ago. This wasn’t about her being awkward or uncomfortable in her first pair of hockey skates. In the second or two it took me to stand up to steady her her eyes had already welled up with tears of joy, and those tears were running steady down both cheeks. In our embrace I could feel her wobbly weightlessness; she was like a lone leaf in a coastal Maine gale.
And she said, “YES”!!!
Neither of us slept well Saturday night, in spite of a full, draining day of high emotions, celebration travel to see family and friends, and an evening of great wine with a great dinner. At 2:00 a.m. Sunday morning in bed Kerry and I were in the very embrace we are each morning near 6:00. “Sleep lost to love,” I told her, adding, “I love you.”
And for the 1,157th consecutive time since I’d first uttered those latter words to her she replied, “I love you more.”
Sunday night with wine Kerry, by then a bit more composed, explained to me that her “YES!!!” out on the Lavers Pond ice was the most natural expression of pure joy she’d ever experienced. I’d managed to pull off my elaborately constructed secret proposal scheme, with the help of a few great friends, but the all-consuming force of her reaction to it carried more meaning for me than the actual consent.
Over dinner at home Saturday night, illuminated by countless candles, I shared with Kerry the extended story of my pursuit of her engagement ring. The Cliff Notes version: I loved being wholly ignorant at the start of this task, immersing myself in learning about it, working with two wonderful women, one in Boston, the other in Rochester, NY, representing the Brilliant Earth fine jewelry company, and most especially seizing upon a ring that captured my heart and all its imagination as an offering of lasting commitment to Kerry. My sister Marianne also gave me great guidance on ring quality last fall.
There is I think no such thing as a “right” versus “wrong” engagement ring; there are instead innumerable styles and settings, band colors and designs. At Brilliant Earth I quickly discovered a selection of ‘Vintage’ ring designs, and soon thereafter found my jewel for my jewel. “Vintage” isn’t the same thing as “old.” “Vintage” instead conveys a timelessness, a distinct durability in its enduring allure. It’s distinctly possible that were Kerry and I both in our twenties rather than our fifties I may well have been swept away by a contemporary design and ring style. But ‘Vintage’ seemed not only congruent with our chronology but well matched for the Old School/traditional courtship and romance we’ve achieved dating back to last spring.
So I had my ring. Almost. There was one last design element for me to consider. My consultants asked if I wanted to add notable luster to the stone and have it optimally shimmer in various exposures to natural and indoor lighting. I recognized the “upselling” of their inquiry. Turns out, however, that this added amenity is legit. On a handful of occasions Saturday Kerry isolated herself for a few minutes simply to have some time alone to privately absorb her engagement ring’s remarkably bright shimmer and shine. We did this together on her couch deep into Saturday night, amid the glow of candles and a sugary playlist of ‘70s love songs on Spotify.
Kerry, who prior to this Maine winter had principally associated the season with the muscle aches of snow shoveling, startled me in the shimmer of our special Saturday night.
“I love winter,” she suddenly told me, beaming in glow of candles.
“I love you,” I told my love.
“I love you more,” she returned.