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Why do women marry these men? They've proven themselves sneaky, conniving, willing in some cases to lie about something as sacred as a diamond (see story No. 1). Typical case: He plots, he schemes, tells secrets to her friends -- and often to total strangers -- and still, she says yes. These are the men responsible for the stories collected in our Valentine's Day hunt for the most outrageous, ambitious marriage proposals. Our two winners represent flip sides of the genre. The first groom-to-be, Peter, crafted an elaborate scheme involving a ski lift, a fake ring and a heart-stopping stunt.
By Betty Shimabukuro
bshimabukuro@starbulletin.comThe second, Scott, planned a private proposal at a romantic site -- nice, but nothing that would interest us -- and then things started to go wrong. Rain, for example, a bump on the head, a Winnebago and a flock of fuzzy animals. "Who knows why sheep do what they do?" was his beloved Jann's deepest thought at the time.
Peter and wife Lisa will share first prize of a night's stay at the Kahala Mandarin, dinner for two at the hotel and two tickets to the Kenny Rankin concert Friday. Scott and Jann receive dinner for two at the Kahala Mandarin and two tickets to the Chubby Checker concert Sunday in return for his baring his soul and making us laugh. For more proposals, See Page D3.\
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Jann and I had just completed a monthlong bicycling trek through Ireland, and we were capping our vacation off with a driving tour of County Donegal. Get bump on head,
wait til ‘yes’ is saidBy Scott Herzer
We followed the wet road as it wound through gentle green hills, leading us to Malin Head, on Donegal's northern coast, where I'd been promised spectacular views of a rocky windswept shore and the privacy I wanted for what I was about to ask. We were late, even for the long summer days at this latitude, and the light in the low-lying clouds was slowly failing.
The road seemed to be the correct one by the map, but I was haunted by that common doubt of many travelers in a new place: Is this the right way? That question became a metaphor for THE question I had planned for several months to ask Jann.
We were both nearing 40, and neither of us had been married before. Somehow I felt, irrationally of course, that the commitment had even greater significance for us, and I got more nervous the closer we got to the coast. I remembered buying the ring, a simple choice, since I knew what Jann would want, and I knew what I could afford. Thankfully, the jeweler had a ring that was a beautiful intersection of cost and aesthetic. I remembered how the little gray velvet-covered box felt in my pocket, and I remembered hiding it away behind some books on baseball lying dusty on my bookshelf, books I knew Jann would never have the inclination to glance at, let alone move.
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The coastward sky brightened, and there was a break in the mist. As we passed over the crest of a hill, I could see faint outlines of craggy rock formations through the mist, and then, in one brief moment, the low-lying sun shone golden off the wet grass, the slick black road and the blue-gray waters off Malin Head. We had made it to a small lookout about 100 feet above the beach and an old, quaint lighthouse. There were no other cars and, except for a few sheep on a distant hill, we were alone. I turned off the engine, and we sat for a few minutes while the wind gently rocked the car and the windows steamed up."Well, this is nice," Jann said. I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not, so I just said, "Yes, it is." I was exhilarated by the wild weather, by the solitude and by the enormity of what I was about to ask.
"Let's get out," I said. We bundled up and stepped out into the elements.
We held each other for a few minutes and watched the waves crash on the rocks below us. "Isn't this great?" I asked.
"I'm glad we're not on our bikes," Jann said. "I'm cold." She let go of me and started to get back in the car. Now's my chance, I thought. I moved to the back of the car and opened the hatch. Our bicycle panniers were there, and her ring was in one of them. Unfortunately, it then started to pour down rain, and I couldn't remember which of the panniers the ring was in.
"What are you doing?" Jann called back from her seat.
"Looking for something."
"What are you looking for?"
"Just something."
"What is it?"
Irritated by the now drenching rain and by my difficulty in finding the ring box, I blurted out, "I'm looking for some chocolate, OK?"
"I want some," Jann said, and then she did exactly what I didn't want her to do: She clambered out of the car to help me find it.
Seconds later, she was hovering behind me, watching my every move. Almost a foot shorter than me, she stood safely under the hatch lid out of the rain while I continued to get soaked. I tried to figure out a way to get her back in the car, but my head was blank.
I finally pulled the box out and held it clumsily in my hand in front of her.
"That must be expensive chocolate," she said.
I opened the box and showed the ring to her.
"What's this?" she said.
And at that moment, three things happened. First, as I moved to kneel down and propose in the most gentlemanly of manners, I hit my head, quite hard, on the hatch lid. Second, out of nowhere a herd of sheep surrounded us, bleating and running into each other as they funneled around the car.
And, third, right behind the sheep, the Irish version of a Winnebago pulled into the lookout. The noises emanating from the motor home sounded like a cross between a hard-rock concert and a WWF match, and drowned out the sheep and the wind. Even the rain momentarily stopped.
"Who knows why sheep do what they do?" Jann asked.
I couldn't tell if she meant the actual herd of sheep, or the louts in the motor home, or me, so I pressed on. Finally on one knee, which was quickly soaking wet, I asked, "Will you marry me?"
"Do you always answer a question with a question?" she said, smiling at me.
I kneeled there, waiting, not saying a word, literally soaking in the surroundings, and she finally said, "Yes."
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We had been dating for two years and planing our first ski trip together. My requirements were simple. My proposal had to be romantic, a surprise, fun and memorable. The romantic party was the easiest. Our ski trip took us to beautiful Alberta, Canada. We landed in Calgary and were bussed to the Banff Springs Hotel. We immediately fell in love with the hotel because it was modeled after an old English castle. It was perched on a hillside overlooking a large valley with a river cutting through the snow-covered grassland that serves as a golf course during the summer. A wedding ring on a string
is the heart-winning thingBy Peter Stone
It was a lover's nest, complete with several wood-burning fireplaces, displays of medieval coats of armor and friendly staff. The Canadian Rockies were excellent for skiing. Deer, elk and the occasional moose dotted the majestic countryside. Stunning sunsets reflecting off the snow-capped mountains melted away any last-minute doubts as to whether I was truly ready to pop the question.
The element of surprise was necessary to dispel any expectations by Lisa that this trip would be the perfect time for me to propose. So I waited patiently until the third day of our six-day vacation. The question had to come when she least expected it. Finally I decided it would happen while riding the ski lift of the Olympic Chair at the Lake Louise ski resort.
The first lift ride was merely to get my timing down. We had to be approaching the very summit of the mountain at the time I was proposed, for maximum effect. The second time, I thought I was ready ... but as we rapidly approached the spot I had marked off, I simply choked. The third time was the charm. Despite the 28-degree temperature and a head wind that would give anyone cold feet, this was it.
"Lisa, please remove your snow goggles, I want to show you something." I unzipped the inside pocket of my ski jacket and handed her a very large diamond ring and asked her to marry me. I then dropped the ring. It dropped about 20 feet and stopped. I laughed as I listened to Lisa scream. Slowly I pulled the ring up by the fishing line that I had tied to the ring and the inside of my ski jacket. When the ring was within 5 feet of us, I started to twirl it around and around until it looked like a propeller for an airplane. Lisa was punching me, but I did not feel a thing. With the ring safely in hand, I asked her again.
With the biggest smile on her face, Lisa slipped the ring and fishing line onto her finger and said, "Yes!" We had about 15 seconds left to enjoy the view and the moment, and then we had to jump off the lift chair. There we stood in the snow, on top of the world.
We skied to the bottom, and she asked if I was worried that the diamond ring would be lost if the fishing line broke. I explained that I can be crazy but not that crazy. The diamond ring was actually a cubic zirconia that I had bought at Woolworth's for $30. It looked real, but I told Lisa I would never think of buying the real diamond without her approval. Lisa loved the ring anyway and wore it proudly.
It was romantic, a surprise and fun, but the memorable part was still to come. I made reservations for dinner at the finest French restaurant in Banff and asked Lisa for the fake ring back so I could propose to her properly. She reluctantly returned the ring and off we went.
Shortly after placing our dinner orders and taking a small sip of wine, I was ready to do it again. Lisa never looked more beautiful with her face filled with the soft glow of candlelight. Out of my coat pocket came a ring box. I got up and slipped the box into Lisa's hand. "What is this?" Lisa was puzzled. "Open it," I replied. There it was. The real diamond ring that I had so carefully picked out for her a month ago.
Clearing my throat, I asked, "Lisa, will you marry me?" she smiled and said, "You mean you are not going to go own on your knees and propose in the middle of the restaurant in front of all these people like that guy did for Cher in the move 'Moonstruck'?"
"No," I said. "If you remember, Cher did not marry the brother who proposed on his knees; she ended up with the guy's brother, Nicolas Cage." She could not argue with that, and Lisa accepted my second proposal. Fortunately, Lisa loved the real ring even more. I made sure the real one was bigger than the fake one.
We married the following year. Our wedding invitation read, "Two Fools in Love to wed on April 1, 1989 (no joke!)" We shared my proposal to Lisa with our guests that evening through a slide show, complete with pictures of us on the ski lift. Like the proposal itself, our reception was romantic, full of surprises, fun and memorable. I would not have it any other way.
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Other proposals
Sandy Ramiscal was out for a night with the girls, taking in a movie at Restaurant Row. On the screen was the pre-movie slide show with the usual advertisements and movie trivia quizzes. Up popped a slide that read "Sandy, co-star in the greatest lifetime adventure ever. Marry me!" followed by "Lifetime Oscar winner" and a picture of her. The final slide: "Coming July 2000 -- The Wedding" and a picture of her with Oscar (that's his name, convenient for a pair of movie lovers).
Oscar, a teacher, had students with walkie-talkies stationed inside to let him know when he should enter the theater with Sandy's lei and more of her friends.
They were married July 29, 2000, "and it is indeed the greatest lifetime adventure," Sandy writes.
Norman Lau also proposed on a ski lift, at Scheweitzer Basin in Idaho, but first put girlfriend Molly off the scent by playing the part of helpful but not very romantic mate.
Before their ski trip, back in their apartment in Spokane, Wash., he announced he had several surprises for her -- then showed her a newly cleaned freezer, oven and a new frying pan. "She smiled but I knew that wasn't the type of surprise she had in mind."
It was up in the air on Chair No. 6 that Norman again said, "I have another surprise for you."
"What, you have another frying pan?" she said.
"No, it's time I made an honest man of myself," he said, and produced the ring.
Chad Shimamura and Douglas Bennett both made works of art the vehicles for their Big Questions.
Chad had his engagement ring put in a display case at Bishop Museum, accompanied by an exhibit tag: "This ring will be given to Claudia Kaneshiro ... as a symbol of love and commitment in marriage. Claudia, will you marry me?"
"It dawned on me that my name was in there and I couldn't figure out how it got into this enclosed case," Claudia writes. Then Chad sunk to one knee. And a security guard stepped out with a remote control to raise the case, so Chad could get at the ring.
Douglas made his own art piece and had it hung in a gallery. His proposal was written in place of the usual artist's signature. "My wife still shows this piece to anyone who comes into our house and tells the story of how I proposed," writes Douglas.
Bud Weisbrod and Robert (no last name given) took their honeys up into the sky -- Bud in a self-piloted Piper Cub; Robert in a Cessna with a friend at the controls.
In both cases, the men popped the question, then had the planes aim straight for the ground. "I said, 'Better answer, we're getting pretty low!" Bud recalls. "A small voice said, 'Yes,' so I pulled out of the spin."
This rather sadistic technique appears to make an impact. Robert has been married 13 years; Bud for 47.
And now for the ultimate public proposals -- two guys, two girls, two football fields, two football crowds.
Blayne Takemoto got girlfriend Cher onto the 50 yard line at halftime of the 2001 Waialua High School homecoming game. A limousine pulled up, 13 of Blayne's tuxedo-clad friends emerged holding red roses and Cher was escorted to the door, where Blayne appeared. He knelt and broadcast his proposal to the crowd.
Devin Fukunaga, at the time (1999) the football coach for Waipahu High School, maneuvered girlfriend Eunice to the field during halftime. A love song came on the loudspeaker, then the announcer's voice, "Devin has a very important question to ask you." Whereupon he kneeled before her and put the ring on her finger.
"It did take a lot of guts on his part," Eunice writes. "I mean, what if I'd said no?"
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