Random Blub

Description: Brooklynites Danny, an OTB clerk, and Annie, a nurse, remember their life together—from their first date to Danny's final days with terminal cancer. This remarkable couple personifies the eloquence, grace, and poetry that can be found in the voices of every day people if we take the time to listen. Originally an animation in two parts, here you'll see a special version that combines both parts of their story.

[Note: Posting this is not an endorsement of every single thing they say]

Transcript and more on Danny and Annie below.

The StoryCorps oral history project has dedicated its booth in Grand Central Terminal to the Perasas. On Friday, Feb. 10, a plaque was unveiled that dedicated the booth to the Perasas.

The plaque reads: "This booth is dedicated to Danny and Annie Perasa, who recorded their story here on January 6, 2004. Their humor, heart, eloquence and love will never be forgotten."

From the article: Two in a Million: Danny And Annie Perasa.

[StoryCorps intro music.

Text on screen:

Danny and Annie live in Brooklyn, New York. He is a horse-betting clerk. She is a nurse.

They were married in 1978. And at StoryCorps, they told the story of their very first date.

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Danny: She started to talk and I said, 'Listen, I'm going to deliver a speech and at the end you're going to wanna go home'. I said, 'You represent a four letter word and that word is love. I say if we're goin' anywhere, we're goin' down the aisle because I'm too tired, too sick, and too sore to do any other damn thing.' Aaand she turned around and she says, 'Of course I'll marry ya'.

And the next morning I called her as early as I possibly could --

Annie: And he always gets up early.

Danny: (laughing) To...To make sure she hadn't changed her mind. And she hadn't. And, uh, and every year on April twenty-second around three o'clock I call her and ask her if she'd do it again, and so far the answer's been the same.

Annie: Yeah and twenty-five times, yes. (laughs)

DannyY-y-you see, the thing of it is, I always feel guilty when I say 'I love you' to you. When I say it so often, I say it to remind you that as dumpy as I am, it's coming from me. It's like hearing a beautiful song from a busted ol' radio. And it's nice of you to keep the radio around the house.

Annie: If I don't have a note on the kitchen table, I think there's something wrong. You write a love letter to me --

Danny: Well the only thing that could possibly be wrong is that I couldn't find a silly pen.

Annie: (reading one of Danny's letters) 'To my Princess,
The weather out today is extremely rainy. I'll call you at 11:20 in the morning...

Danny: It's a romantic weather report...

Annie ... and I love you, I love you, I love you.'

Danny When a guy is happily married, no matter what happens at work, no matter what happens in the rest of the day, there's a shelter when you get home. There's a knowledge that you can hug somebody without them throwing you down stairs and saying 'get your hands off me'. And...and bein' married is like havin' a color television set--you never wanna go back to black and white.

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Text on screen:

Danny and Annie spent twenty-seven happy years together. Then, in January of 2006, Danny was diagnosed with a fast-spreading terminal cancer.

A few weeks later, Danny and Annie recorded one last interview together from the living room of their Brooklyn home.

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Annie: The illness is not hard on me. It's just, you know, the finality of it. And him, he goes along like a trooper.

Danny: Listen, even downhill a car doesn't roll unless it's pushed. And you're givin' me a great push. The deal of it is we try to give each other hope--and not hope that I'll live--hope that she'll do well after I pass. Hope that people will support her. Hope that if she meets somebody and likes him, that she marries him.

Annie: He has everything planned. Y'know... (voice fades out)

Danny: I'm workin' on her. She said that it was her call. She wants to walk out behind the casket alone. I guess that's the way to do it because when we were married, you know how your bother takes you down, your father takes you down? She said, 'Well, I don't know which of my brothers to walk in with, I don't want to offend anybody.' I says, 'I got a solution.' I said, 'You walk in with me, you walk out with me.'

And the other day I said, 'Who is going to walk down the aisle with you behind the casket?'. You know, to support her. And she said, 'Nobody. I walked in with you alone. I'm walking out with you alone.'.

Annie: Mmmhmm.

Danny: There's a thing in life where you have to come to terms with dying. Well, I haven't come to terms with dyin' yet. I want to come to terms with being sure that you understand that my love for you up to this point was as much as it could be and it will be as much as it could be for eternity.

I always said the only thing I have to give you is a poor gift and it's myself. And I always gave it. And if there's a way to come back and give it, I'll do that too. You have the Valentine's Day letter there?

Annie: Yeah. (reading the letter) My dearest wife,
This is a very special day, it is a day on which we share our love which still grows after all these years. Now that love is being used by us to sustain us through these hard times. All my love, all my days, and more...Happy Valentine's Day.

Danny:(choked up)I could write on and on about her. She lights up the room in the morning when she tells me to put both hands on her shoulders so she can support me. She lights up my life when she says to me at night, 'Would you like ice cream?' or 'Would you please drink more water?'. I mean, those aren't very romantic things to say, but they stir my heart.

In my mind, in my heart, there has never been, there is not now, and never will be another Annie.

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Text on screen:

A week after this conversation was recorded, StoryCorps broadcast it on public radio.

Danny died that same day.

Annie received thousands of condolence letters from radio listeners.

She reads one every day in place of her love letter from Danny.]