Maria Elena stepped off the airplane arriving back home from a trip to Italy in San Francisco in October in 1971 where her boyfriend picked her up. He said he knew of an Italian guy that just purchased a restaurant in North Beach, the Italian district of San Francisco and asked if I wanted to go to dinner there. I said “Sure!”. They walked through a door with a tall, elegant green curtain, unveiling a handsome fellow behind the bar, cigarette in his mouth and cocktail in his hand, big mutton chops on the side of his face. Maria Elena gazed at Lorenzo, then looked back at her boyfriend and said “I’m gonna marry that guy.” That was the beginning. She and her boyfriend had a delicious Italian dinner there that night. The next day, she returned, this time alone and saw several women sitting at the bar waiting to see who Lorenzo would choose. Well, it wasn’t me, so I came back another night to sit at the bar and ask him out myself.