The first image that comes to mind when you hear the name “Roosevelt” is, more than likely, that of a larger-than-life icon of a bygone era – wearing a summer fedora, perhaps with a long ivory cigarette holder propped in his mouth. It’s the image that I would have thought of upon hearing that name for the majority of my life; that is, until I met Rosie.
My wife and I had just moved to a new city to be closer to her family. It was an exciting time, filled with the mix of fear that comes with leaving the comforts of an established life and the giddiness of meeting new people, starting new jobs and exploring new places. I was in my mid-30’s, so it was the perfect time for a shot in the arm of stimulation to counter the mundane sense of routine that life had turned into after leaving my 20’s.