Remind Me Why I Fell in Love...

I’m not sure what brought it to mind this morning but I was thinking about an event from 47 years ago.  I met my husband in the summer of 1966, and I think this incident happened that first summer.

I don’t remember if we had been out on a date or if he had just come over to visit me at my parents’ home, but before he left, we were standing in the kitchen talking.  He remembered he had something in the car which he wanted to show to me.

To picture this you need to know that my parents’ back door had a combination storm/screen on it.  The door did not have a round handle, but a horizontal hook-like bar about 3 inches long which you pushed to open the door.

Bill said, “Oh, there is something in the car I want to show you.”  He spun around, opened the door, took one step out, and then leaped off the small porch instead of going down the 2 or 3 steps.  As he became air-borne, his sport coat, which was unbuttoned, flew open.  I can’t imagine what the odds of this might be, but the door handle hooked into one of the buttonholes.  He had enough forward momentum that this did not even slow him down.  As he flew off the porch, the handle ripped through the buttonhole and tore the front of the jacket in both directions creating a long dangling flap of fabric.  When he returned to the house, he had stuffed the remnant of the suit coat front into the pocket creating a ridiculous wad.  He wore a sheepish, but ever-so-charming, grin on his face.  I was initially horrified over the jacket damaged way beyond repair, but once I realized that he wasn’t upset, I convulsed in laughter.

I did not consciously think, at the time, about what this incident said about his temperament and character, but I do know people who would have allowed such an incident to make them angry and ruin the evening.  Instead, it was both a humorous digression from and an important part of the serious business of getting acquainted…and falling in love.  I smile whenever the picture comes to my mind.

I'm Not Impressed

"I'm not impressed."  Those were the first words I ever spoke about my husband.


My family had just moved to a new town.  I had been hearing ever since my parents had gone house-hunting in the new location, about a young man that they met when they visited a church in the area.  My mother came home excited to have me meet this nice guy.  I told her that I was not interested in having a boyfriend who would be 800 miles away when I returned to college.


I was home on summer vacation between college years, so I moved with my parents trying to be helpful with the packing, my younger brothers, and cleaning the new home.  Our first weekend in the new town, we all went to church.  The nice young man wasn't there, as he was away participating in a friend's wedding.  But, as would be admitted to me many months later, he hurried back and arrived just as church was concluding.  He knew I might be there, and the Pastor's wife had seen my picture and was teasing him about the new girl in town.  He, of course, did not give her the satisfaction of acting interested in me, but he did hurry back.


And so, it happened that my mother poked me and said, "Do you see that guy talking to your brother?  That's Bill."


"Hmmppff,"  I replied, "I'm not impressed."


He looked like a skinny high school kid.  He was actually 23, a year out of college, managing his family's business, and already a Rotarian.  But, he looked verrrrrry young, and being a distance runner, he was verrrrrrry thin.  I was 21, a registered nurse and working to put myself through college.  


We talked briefly that day...nothing special...no sparks.  Later in the week, a couple from the church had rented a cottage and invited all of the teens and singles in the church to come for a swim and a picnic.  I rode to the cottage with Bill's sister and her boyfriend.  Bill arrived later after finishing work.  Somehow during the evening, we began talking.  The conversation lasted the entire evening.  He asked if he could give me a ride home.  He had a '57 convertible.  The evening was warm, and the top was down.  During the ride, we discovered that we both liked songs from musicals and began singing loudly as the wind rushed past.


The conversation lasted another hour as we sat in his car in my parents' driveway.  I am absolutely positive my mother must have peeked out through the curtains, but nonetheless, when I came in the house, she asked, "So, who brought you home?"


I replied, "Bill...and...I'm impressed."


That was in August of 1966.  We were married when I finished college in June of 1968.


I'm still impressed.