Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, September 14, 1993 TAG: 9309240368
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 6 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Kathleen Wilson
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
Let's face it. It's not cheap. For anyone.
But it just about makes Dave Babcock's head spin to think about how much money he spent wooing his wife of almost 12 years.
Dave met Leslie in 1974, when she was the manager of a now-defunct Roanoke eatery, B.F. Goodribs. Back then she was such a whiz at the video game Asteroids, housed in the restaurant`s bar, that Leslie issued a standing offer of a free drink to anyone who could beat her.
``I must have spent several thousand dollars trying to get her - and a free drink,'' Dave explained. After all, he rationalizes, there was nothing else to do while he was waiting for her to get off from work.
The game held such a position of paramount importance in their courtship that Dave even proposed to Leslie - asking her to live with him until hyperspace did them part - over a game of, yes, Asteroids.
What health clubs and racquetball are to dating in the '90s, that's sorta what video game and pinball were like in the '70s. Asteroids is about as basic as it gets. No fancy colors. Just a white triangular ship blasting away at white rocks on a black screen.
There are a lot of guys out there who mark a special occasion by buying the wife a bigger, better, new and improved diamond ring than the one they slaved to buy way back when.
But even if Dave were one of those guys - and he's not - he figured ANY guy could run out to Circuit City and pick up Nintendo for Leslie as a surprise gift when she hit the big four-O.
That's why Dave launched a nationwide search and came up with an honest-to-goodness, vintage, right-out-of-a-video-arcade-circa-1974 Asteroids game.
Leslie proved to those who turned out for her birthday party that she is STILL the best Babcock to ever zap a space rock, as she stood in her own den decimating Asteroids like Clint Eastwood takes out bad guys.
``I haven't played this game in years,'' she giggled, as her 3-year-old, Hannah, bounced excitedly up an down on a chair next to the game.
``That's why we got it for you,'' said her son, Benjamin, absolutely glowing with the excitement of any 6-year-old with the coolest parents in the whole world.
It's been 70 years since Nellie Seaberg crossed the Atlantic with her family, leaving her hometown near London to live in the United States.
Yet it was ``God Save the Queen'' she was singing softly as she opened a birthday gift Sunday afternoon wrapped in paper splashed with the red, white, and blue motif of the Union Jack.
``It's nice to come here and hear so many people speaking in the accent I grew up with around our house,'' explained Nellie, who at 80 doesn't have even a trace of a British accent left.
``It's all those other people out there who have the funny accents,'' said Barbara Campbell.
They call themselves the Teasippers, these women who, tossed by fate, have wound up in Roanoke. They're bound by common roots in Great Britain and and inherent love for hot tea in the afternoon.
Joan Callender and Mavis Bailey met as war brides on the Queen Mary crossing the Atlantic to move to the States.
Joyce Brown and Jean Williams - two more English brides who married American GIs during World War II - met thanks to the thoughtfulness of a Roanoke postmaster.
``I used to go downtown to buy stamps and when he heard my accent, he asked if I knew Mrs. Brown,'' recalled Jean. ``He went and wrote her phone number down for me.''
It's that sort of kind regard neighbors have for neighbors here that makes Jean now declare she can't imagine living anywhere but Roanoke.
``This is my home,'' she explained.
Jean was one of the women who founded the Teasippers in 1954. Back then, the newspaper sent out a photographer, who took a picture of the women holding mince pies.
``He told us to look as though we just couldn't wait to eat them,'' she remembered, with a laugh.
If you'd asked me - before Sunday - what my idea of a really great time was, I'd have never answered, ``Sitting around drinking tea with a bunch of women from England.''
Thank goodness for the wisdom experience provides.
I've always considered it very much a privilege to be invited into people's homes to write this column.
But this party for Nellie, held at the Raleigh Court home of Sylvia Parcha, was special because of the deep and genuine affection these women have for one another.
``I feel like a 16-year-old,'' Nellie said as she opened package after package, each ornately wrapped in paper strewn with hydrangea, lilac, violets and phlox.
The boxes held gifts from the heart: Rosemary Francis' basket, decorated by her own hand with dried flowers. The tiny framed oil painting of Smith Mountain Lake that Mavis Bailey painted herself. A needlework tea tray stitched by Ruth Brown and framed by her husband Colin. One of Sylvia's hand-embellished decorative plates. A handmade potpourri-filled lace sachet filled with rose petals from Joan's garden, woven with purple satin ribbon.
Joyce gave a mug festooned with a Teasippers group photo. (``Look! She'll be kissing me every time she takes a sip,'' said Mary Parikh as she found herself in the photo.)
When someone gave a jar of honey, they talked about how good it would taste on brown bread and scones.
Not fried chicken and biscuits.
``Pass the gifts around, like the Americans do,'' suggested Edie Harrison, laughing as she explained how embarrassed her American mother-in-law was when she threw Edie a baby shower and she just placed each gift beside her after admiring it.
I've been to my share of Roanoke area tea parties, but never one where I laughed so much. And never one with a raffle.
For each monthly meeing, someone contributes some small treasure - this time a lovely picture frame - and Teasippers buy raffle tickets after tea for 25 cents apiece.
``We have to make money somehow,'' laughed Mary Lewis, who surprised the heck out of me with the information that the Teasippers have their own bank account, thank you very much.
Mary joined the crew when a neighbor introduced her to Joyce.
``I've been into a whole mess of stuff since then,'' she said.
by CNB