Our First Meeting---the real story

Recently my eldest daughter Rachel, posted on her blog (Rachels Posting) two versions of the same story.The story describes how my wife and I first met and goes on to describe our later engagement. The first version is told from my wife's perspective and the second is told from my perspective, Taken together they show the rather humerous differnces between how men and women might view the same events. However, I am afraid there are several factual errors in my daughter's translation of these horrifying events that took place some 28 years ago. This post will hopefully clarrify some of the mis-translations pertaining to our first meeting. Perhaps I will add subsequent posts about our eventual enagement and early romance.

Mom, tell me about the first time you met daddy...

Lets see...it was back in June of 1977 when I first met your father. I am 18, fresh out of Catholic high school and a good girl still confused about this business of love. I had a boyfriend or two before ...the last one of which turned out to be gay! I had no idea until he took me to a party one night and it turned out to be a rather "queer" event if you know what I mean. I about puked and my dad was ready to kill the guy when he took me home, but thats another story. After that I consider being a nun but decide to stick with my dream of becomng a nurse. I am scheduled to start nursing school at the end of the summer but on the day in question I am starting my first day on a summer job at the Gas company where my dad works. The company hires college kids of employees as meter readers to fill-in for the permanent meter readers who often take vacation during the summer months. I am sitting in the supervisor's office waiting for another summer hire to show up so we can begin our orientation. We are about to begin, figuring the other person is going to be a "no-show" when the door burst open and this BIG blonde guy with hair almost to his sholders comes waltzing in. His ice-blue eyes give my body a good scanning and then he turns to the supervisor, shakes his hand, and introduces himself. His presence gives me such a jolt that I don't even catch his name. The supervisor begins the orientation and I do my best at paying attention to what the new job involves but this blond guy just seems bored except for the occasions when I catch him staring at my butt...which by the way...looked pretty nice under the tight white jeans I was wearing...if I may say so myself. Anyway, the orientation finally ends and the supervisor offers to take us both out to lunch. We pile into a company car, the supervisor and the blond guy in the front and me in the back. We get to this cafe and we approach the door to go inside. The blond steps out ahead and holds the door open for me. Well, I figure we are going to be working together and thus should be equals, so I say, "We are going to work together so you don't need to open doors for me!" The next thing I know the door is b slammed in my face. It is a rather rough start but there is something different about that guy. Everytime my eyes lock with his ice-blues, my legs feel all rubbery and my face flushes. Somehow I sense an intertwined fate. That evening when I get home my mom asks me how the job went. I turn to her and reply, "I met the man that I am going to marry!" Grandma gives me kind of a wierd smile and says, "Oh ya, what's his name?" Suddenly I realize that I don't even remember his name!

The rest of June is filled with the hum drum of work. Every morning all the meter readers meet in a big room to be issued our "book" of meters to read for the day. Every morning the blond guy shoots rubber bands at my butt and teases me mercilessly. I do learn his name is Tom and that he goes to college in Wisconsin but he never asks me out and I am to scared to ask him. Every evening I go home talking endlessly about him and dreaming him...especially his cute, tight rear end and playful smile. My chance finally arrives over the Fourth of July weekend. I learne that July 4th is Tom's birthday and also that he has scheduled an appointment to get his wisdom teeth removed prior to the holiday weekend. I summon my courage and call him at home to wish him Happy Birthday. His mother answers the phone and agrees to put him on the line after warning me that he can't talk very well. When he picks up the phone I blurt out "Happy Birthday...I have a birthday kiss for you." (god..I couldn't believe I actually said it!) He mumbles something almost unitelligable but I finally figure out he is saying something about needing to take a rain-check on my offer because his mouth is swelled almost shut and smells like a rat's hemmroid. (such romantic words!) The next week he cashes in on his rain check and we go on our first date...out for Pizza and then to the first Star Wars movie. (maybe this event deserves a seperate posting) Anyway...the rest is history.

Dad, tell me about the first time you met mommy...

Hmm...Lets see...that was back there around 1978 or 1977 I think. "Hey, Cindy...what year was it when we first met?" Ya, mom says it was 1977 so that must be when it was. I think it was June because it was the first day of a summer job I had that summer. It was a job reading meters for the gas company that my dad worked for. I had done the same job the previous summer but based out of a different city back in Illinois. It was fun summer work and I could tell you many stories about working those summers but that is not what you asked me so I will try to stay on topic. I was a bit of a "wild child" back in those days. I had just finished my Freshman year of college and was feeling like or at least trying to act like a real man of the world. During the previous year my long time high school sweetheart had broken up with me and although that had broken my heart for a few days when it happened by the time June rolled around I was on a mission to conquer the world. I had car pooled to work that morning with another guy that I had worked the previous summer with. He owned a delapidated old VW Beetle and we had started the morning by making a "party" of the hour long commute on the Eisenhower Expressway. When we got to the office I learned that I was supposed to go to an orientation in some guy's office so I made my way there and went in the door. There was this chic already there talking to the supervisor. She looked kind of scared and rather "proper" so I flashed her a smile and introduced myself to the boss. The boss launched into rambling on about the job which was rather boring since I had already done a similar job the previous summer so I passed the time by checking the chick out a bit more when she wasn't looking. (this was easy because her attention was pretty focused on the boss man) I noticed that she wasn't bad looking. She had brownish,blondish hair with red undertones, was slim, had nice boobs that she kept hidden too well and a real nice ass. Not a bad prospect at all. I wondered how many other young ladies would also be working there for the summer. Before to long the boss finished his spiel and offered to take us out to get something to eat. The real reason he was offering the free meal was that he wanted to make his daily rounds of the nearby reseraunts to see if he could catch any of the other meter readers gooffing off drinking coffee and eating doughnuts. The company had a policy that no more than 2 company cars could be at any eating establishment's parking lot at one time. If there were more than 2 cars the boss would go inside and "write up" all the meter readers present and they would face discipinary measures. (Ask your mom about this. She has a funny story relating to it.) We drove over to a nearby cafe in a giant Pymoth Fury company car that was about as big as today's pick-up trucks...and which my car-pooling buddy totaled later that summer while I was riding with him. (another story which I will tell you later) Anyway, we got to this cafe and much to the boss man's chagrin there were no other meter readers gooffing off so we decided to go in and get something to eat. By now I was pretty hungry as at that stage in my life I had a perpetual case of the munchies but my mother had taught me well and my hunger didn't cause me to forget my manners. When we got to the door I opened it and held it open for the female in my presence. To my amazement this chick looked me in the eye and blurted out something stupid about us working together and thus she being able to open doors for herself. I thought "Oh God...a woman libber who doesn't even have the decentcy to burn her bra!" and quickly closed the door before I could further offend her.

The next few weeks were pretty run-of-the-mill summer days spent working a summer job. Every morning I would drive through the rush-hour traffic to work, either in my buddies old VW or my dad's extra Odsmobile cutlass. We would spend the first hour in a big room getting our meter reading routes in order. I learned that the chic from the first day was named Cindy and I took great joy in shooting her butt with rubber bands and making her blush. She was cute, the cutest girl working there that summer. I wasn't too sure what to make of her. She was fun but seemed kind of straight-laced which didn't fit the steryotype I had built in my mind of girls from the "city". She rode to and from work everyday with her dad who worked out of the same office and she rarely if ever hung-out with the other meter readers after we finished our "days" work and retired to the nearby parks and forrest preserves to party and play baseball or frisbee. I didn't quite know what to make of her. I never really got around to asking her out as there were other prospects around that seemed to hold a higher promise of success for less effort but she seemed kind of special just the same so I always teased and harrassed her the most when we were together. Around the Fourth of July things changed. I had gone in to get my wisdom teeth removed and the phone rang about the second day after I had them yanked. I was feeling really miserable because the first day after they had been pulled I felt great and ignored my mother's advice and walked the mile or so downtown in the blazing hot sun. That night I got deathly sick and spent the night curled up around the toilet puking my guts up through a mouth that I couldn't even open. So when my mother handed me the phone the next day and told me it was a girl calling for me I was torn between my desire to pursue any and all female possibilities and my fear of sounding like mumbling mummy through my swollen mouth. When I picked up the reciever I was greeted by your mother's sweet voice wishing me a Happy Birthday and then, quite uncharacterisically, promising me a Birthday kiss! "Wow...maybe I had mis-read this chic...maybe she was a 'big city' hottie in disguise!" Not wanting to pass up such an unexpected offer I quickly mumbled something about if I could take a rain-check. She agreed and our conversation continued for several minutes. She spoke sweet comforting words about the agony I was experiencing and I perodically grunted my appreciation. The next week I asked her to go to the Star Wars movie with me. Little did I realize that "the Force" was with her and that my "Evil Empire" was destined for doom. (or is it the other way around...life is so confusing sometimes!! )

Romance Foiled!...or was it?

Twenty-five years! Twenty-five years of love, arguments, happiness
and sorrow. Twenty-five years of adventure, boredom, romance and
kids. Twenty-Five winters...twenty-five summers! We've been married
for over half my lifetime but still I can not come up with a romantic
idea of how to celebrate this anniversary. Perhaps we have grown too
old, too eroded by by the swift currents of every day life. Perhaps
the endless dinners cooked, bags of garbage hauled to the curb, lawns
mowed, leaking pipes fixed, and arguments fought have finally killed
my ability to feel the fire of romance with this woman I call my
wife. Perhaps we have just grown too comfortable, too familiar. I
have toyed with various ideas, a weekend get-away to the famous
bush-pilot, Don Sheldon's "Mountain House", perched on a precipice
near Mt. McKinley. Perhaps a less expensive weekend trip to the Mc
Claren River Lodge. These and other ideas failed to pan out for
various reasons. They all seem kind of contrived anyway. These
thoughts echo in my mind as I finish this day... just another day at
the office...just a day twenty-five years after that hot afternoon
in Chicago's St. Al's Cathedral where I uttered those two words, "I
do" and changed my life forever.

Inspiration strikes!

I am walking across the parking lot towards my
truck when the idea jolts my brain.I jump in my truck and rush for home. The trip is only about 7 miles
and traffic is light but it seems as if every traffic light along the
way is joined in conspiracy against me. I arrive at home and run up
the steps into the house. Rachel, my eldest daughter is sitting on
the couch surfing the net on her laptop. My sudden arrival startles
her. She peeks over the screen acknowledging my presence and greets
me with her usual greeting, "What's for dinner".

"I'm having dinner with your mom tonight...you're fending for
yourself." I mutter as I head over towards the desk-top computer.

" You know that mom has her final exam in Sign Language tonight until 9 O'clock?"

"Yaa...I know...that is all part of my plan" I reply as I sit down at the computer and frantically begin typing.

The mystery is too much. Rachel puts down her lap-top and walks over
to where I sit. "What are you planning NOW Dad?"

" Well first I am going to finish writing this love poem for your
mother. Then YOU are going to teach me how to say "will you marry me"
in Sign Language.... I am going to barge into your mother's class,
give her some roses and then go down on one knee and propose to her
again in front of the whole class . If she says "yes", I will read
her the poem and then wait for class to end. At which time we will go
up to the top of Ester Dome and watch the sun slip beneath the
horizon while sipping a glass of wine."

Rachel smiles and I can tell instantly that she likes my idea. She
leaves me alone to I bang away at the keyboard. I rack my brain and
fingers trying to come up with a poem that captures my multitude of
feelings about that day twenty-five years and so many miles ago. I
tell myself not to worry about making the words rhyme but find myself
doing it anyway. It just doesn't seem like poetry to me unless there
is rhyme. Finally, after about 45 minutes of head pounding I come up
with something that I feel is passable. I read it to Rachel:

To Cindy

Twenty-five years and thousands of miles ago
You stood trembling at father's side.
A jewel of youthful innocence
A slip of a girl, a father's great pride.

Twenty-five years and thousands of miles ago
I sweated in monkey suit before you
A brash young buck of no prominence
A boyish man with adventure but not a clue

Twenty-five years and thousands of miles ago
We spoke the eternal words "I do"
Simple words but words of great consequence
Then off into the wilds we flew!

Miles flew past and gales did blow
Children squalled, bosses yelled
Years went fast and and wrinkles grew
Through all, my love for you did not chill.

Today you stand gracing my side
A diamond polished ever so bright.
A pearl luminescent with time
My wife and eternal delight!

"Oh Dad, I hope that who ever I marry can write like you! Or at
least I hope that who ever he is, that he is as romantic as you. You
do know that Mom is going to cry when you read her this?"

She hits a nerve... The thought of my daughter settling for any
man short of a sensitive super-hero is almost more than I can bear! I
THINK, but do not say. "well if you want these things from a man then
YOU make sure that whomever you marry does these things...you
deserve no less!". Verbally I only grunt out laugh and acknowledge
that yes, Cindy will probably end up crying. But hey...that's the way
it is supposed to work...women LIKE do cry don't they?

Rachel quickly instructs me in the proper hand signals to use in
making my proposal. The signals are easy, even for a klutz like me to
learn. I then dive into the shower to remove the 5 O-clock shadow and
the day's stink. I got to look good for my big moment...after all...I
probably won't do anything romantic for another twenty-five years.

I get out of the shower and give my hair the first combing of the
day. (it's a lot shorter today than it was when I got married...also
much more unkempt! ) Rachel gives me one quick refresher lesson in
Sign Language and I run out the door. I drive like a mad man to the
store where I hunt up two dozen red, long-stem roses. Looking at my
watch I decide to hold off on buying the wine until after the
proposal when we are on the way to Ester Dome. I might get in trouble
for having booze in a classroom and besides...what if she says "no"
....No sense in testing fate by being over confident.

The Gruening building is pretty much deserted when I arrive. A few
clumps of college students mill about but its normal bustling crowds
have pretty much left for the day. This builds my confidence. I know
that Cindy's class meets in this building but I have no idea in which
room. The building has six floors, two of which are under-ground.
Immediately upon entering I run down the four flights of stairs to
the bottom floor and begin my search. Walking swiftly through the
floor and finding no Sign Language class in session, I run up the two
flights of stairs to the second floor and start my search all over
again. By the time I hit the fourth floor I am feeling pretty ragged
and people are beginning to wonder what a perspiring middle-aged man
carrying an armful of roses and a crumpled manuscript is doing
running from room to room. At the sixth floor my lungs are in full
rebellion and I begin see images of myself collapsing on the floor
dying of heart failure. At last I notice a woman professor of East
Indian descent working alone in her office. I enter her door,
doubtlessly startling her, as I instantly detect an element of fear
in her eyes. "Could you please tell me what room number the American
Sign Language class meets in?" I ask between gasping for air.

She is not sure what to make of me...a strange, sweaty man with a
bunch of roses showing up at her office door at almost 9 PM. I can
see in her face that she is torn between calling Security or being a
helpful University professor. She decides on being helpful and turns
to her computer where she calls up a university class schedule. "Room
410...downstairs." she finally replies.

I yell a hasty "Thank-you" and tear off down the endless stairs for the fourth floor again. Figuring out the room numbering scheme I head
directly towards room 410. The room is empty!! Its door is closed and
the lights are out.

Dejected, I return to the parking lot and I try to located Cindy's car but have no luck. I stand there, roses hanging in my arms, poem on my lips, a jilted lover if ever there was one. Several coeds notice me. I tell them "I've blown it! My life is ruined!....I came to propose on bent knee to my love...only to find my love has already departed." ( I leave out the part about already being married for 25 years.....it makes a mudch better story with this ommision ! )

"Oh...that's the saddest story I have ever heard." they sympathize as they moon all over me. For a moment I think about continuing the game but then I remember that I AM married afterall and I have a mission to accomplish. Still, the interest expressed by these young, cute things does give me a bit of adreneline rush. (something even old guys need now and then)

Eventually I find Cindy as she pull up in from of the house. Her class had decided to move to the College Coffee House because the classroom was too hot and this change of venue allowed them to practice there Sign Language in the real world. I manage to get her to meet me at Lavells, a classy Bistro downtown, without letting her know what I have planned. I find her there waiting patiently for me to arrive. I approach her table, present her with the now wilting roses, drop to one knee and offered my proposal in both sign language and English. She of course accepts, the other patrons applaud and the rest of the night is history.