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on dancing, especially now that I was in my nineties, as was Ruby also.
    “Can't we go somewhere else?” I asked Ruby. “How about a play or a good movie?”
    “No, I want to go to the prom,” she said.
    So we went, putting on our best clothes. Ties and jackets required, the invitation had said, and I knew I was going to be uncomfortable wearing a tie and jacket, something I hadn't done in a long time. I must say, though, that Ruby looked beautiful in a blue sleeveless gown that she'd bought specially for the occasion, and no one would have guessed that she was ninety.
    It was a long time since we had gone dancing. Perhaps that was true of a great many of the others who came. By the time we arrived,the parking lot was packed and I had to cruise around quite a bit before I could find a vacant parking spot to squeeze into. Two young girls dressed in fancy party gowns greeted us at the door with smiles, and one of them escorted us inside.
    It was already crowded and noisy inside, with people seated at large round tables. Our hostess had trouble finding places for us, but she did at last at a table where three other couples were seated. We introduced ourselves, and there were handshakes and curious looks at us.
    All of them, it seemed to me, were on the youngish side compared to us. They were sizing us up, probably trying to figure out our age. It wasn't long before one of the women asked us, “If you don't mind telling me, how old are you two?”
    When I told them that I was ninety-one and Ruby ninety, there were astonished looks on their faces and cries of “Oh, I don't believe it.”
    I smiled, and Ruby smiled. We were used to this by now. It had happened before when we were among strangers. Sooner or later they would be saying, “God bless you!” and expressing the hope that when they got to that age, God willing, they hoped they would look half as young as we did.
    They did say exactly that. And then, in the midst of the dinner that was being served by the student hosts and hostesses, the band struck up a tune. It was one of the old fox trots, and it was a good opportunity to get away from the table. I took Ruby's hand and we both got up. The others remained seated, and I knew it was because they wanted to see how we would dance—or if we could. I could feel their eyes on us as we went onto the dance floor. Ruby noticed it, too. I said to her, “Let's give them a treat and collapse onto the floor. I'm sure they're expecting it.”
    “We'll do no such thing,” she said. “Instead, give me a few extra twirls and show them how good we are.”
    I tried. I did my best, but after the second dance I had to beg Ruby for a rest. “I'm bushed,” I said. “I really can't do another, otherwise those people at the table are going to get what they expect and I'll have to be carried out.”
    A bit to my surprise, she said, “All right, darling, let's sit down. To tell you the truth, I'm a bit tired myself.”
    I don't know if she was telling the truth or not, but we went back to the table and got applause from our neighbors there, and words of praise, and a repetition of how they couldn't believe we were that old.
    We left shortly afterward. I couldn't handle the dinner, anyway. It was spaghetti and meatballs, and it got all over my blue serge suit. But mostly it was because we were both very tired.
    It was the last time Ruby and I danced together.

Chapter Five
1939
    K NICKERBOCKER V ILLAGE WAS A HUGE COMPLEX OF MULTISTORY brick buildings in lower Manhattan, close to the East River and the Williamsburg Bridge. Our new apartment was on the tenth floor, overlooking a courtyard. It had two bedrooms, and this chiefly was our reason for moving. Now that Ruby was going to have a baby— despite the fact that she was only a little bit pregnant—we realized immediately that our place in the Village was not large enough to accommodate the extra person who was coming. Nor did we think Greenwich Village was an ideal place in which