Time Travel Thursday

This week's Time Travel Thursday is brought to you by Courage. When you're not sure, do it anyway, and do it with feeling! You were probably right in the first place.

Come with me, if you will, to August, 1985. I was raised in a town of about 400 permanent residents, called Alden, Michigan. An odd chain of events had brought me to the tiny campus of Graceland College in Lamoni, Iowa. I had originally planned to attend Central Michigan University (being from Michigan, and all), but when I went to my final year of church camp, one of my good friends convinced me to change my mind. So, I called Graceland College, asked if I could possibly reinstate the financial aid package I'd turned down a few months before; then called Central Michigan University, coincidentally on the last possible day to get a full refund of my deposit, and told them I wasn't coming. Little ole' me, who had only been out of michigan to go to Cedar Point (an amusement park in Sandusky, OH) and Canada, just across the river from Detroit, packed up my life, left my fairly serious boyfriend who was being wishy-washy anyway, and traveled with the aforementioned good friend and her family to Lamoni, Iowa. Population not many.

But, it was mid-August. Soon, over 2,000 people would converge on the small town in the form of students. I still marvel that I thought 2,000 was a huge number of people. There are probably at least that many within a block's radius of my house.

Graceland College (now Graceland University) is sponsored by the Community of Christ, which was formerly The Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. You can see why they thought a name change would be nice, eh? I'd been born into this church and raised in it, and it was cool to be going to "our" college. But when the station wagon with my friend's family in it drove away, leaving my friend and me staring at the red glow of tail lights driving out of the parking lot and into the sunset, it seemed less "cool," and more like the most frightening, stupid, crazy decision I'd ever made. What was I thinking!

It was time for dinner, though, and my friend and I went into the commons. Do you know what a "commons" is? I had no idea. It's Graceland's word for cafeteria or dining hall or place where your food resides. It was named after Floyd McDowell. I guess he must have been a big eater.

So we walk into Floyd McDowell Commons. And there's a line. A big one. Goes all the way to the basement down a big, wide stairway. Since we'll be there for a while, and since I'm scared to death and want my mommy, but she's hundreds of miles away, I decide it'd be a good thing to make friends. I started talking to this boy in front of me. He had on a white tank top with navy blue edging, and across the front, Phoenix Phoenix Phoenix was in navy blue letters. The Phoenixs started higher up on the right side in solid letters, then the middle one was in the middle (huh! who'd have figured?) in a lighter pattern, and then the last one was lower and in a much lighter pattern.

I opened the conversation with some witty repartee:
"Phoenix...that's in Arizona, right?"
The boy was very polite, and said "yes, it's the capital." Then I thought I'd be cool and make him feel like a college student: "you must be a freshman."
"Yes," said the boy.
"And where do you go to school?"
"Here," he said, starting to look at me like I may have been dropped on my head. That day.
"Oh, my gosh! I'm sorry! You just look so..."
"Young. I know. I get that all the time. Nope, this is my first year here."
"Oh." (More witty repartee, as you can see)
"Are you sitting with anyone at dinner?"
"Just my friend, Anna.* Oh, this is my friend, Anna."

We all sat together at dinner, and we had roasted chicken. I remember that, because I had never seen anyone eat roasted chicken like he did. He could have survived three weeks on one piece. He got EVERY LAST BIT of anything resembling meat off the bones. I was amazed. And a little nauseous.

After dinner, we parted ways and got settled in our rooms, etc. Anna wasn't on the same hall as me, but when I went to see her room, I noticed where the bathroom was. Later that night, I went in to take a shower. I thought it was odd that we had to walk so far, even through the lobby of the dorm! But, I'd never to college before, so whatever. I got my shower, went back to my room, and as I did, I noticed the bathroom (complete with showers!) on OUR hall. Oh, well. I hope the parents and students in the lobby liked my mint green terrycloth robe and the towel I'd wrapped my hair in(I was perhaps a LITTLE out of my element!).

The next day I saw The Boy again. He was easy to spot...he always wore a hat. He had mostly colored fishing hats, those that old men wear, cotton with a contrasting stripe. His were all very brightly colored. He also had bright green shorts with the craziest, most colorful patterns on them. This was, after all, the 80's. But anyway, I saw The Boy walking across the lawn in front of Floyd McDowell Commons. He had on a yellow fishing hat with an orange stripe that day. I remember, because when I said hi to him, he tipped his hat! How many people do that anymore? Even then. We decidede to get together with Anna and play Trivial Pursuit that night.

We met in the lounge in the girls' dorm, which was in a loft above the main lobby. We played for a long time, and then talked for a while after that. Anna eventually excused herself to go to bed. She had a job in housekeeping and had to be up early. I had a job at F M Commons and started at 5:00 a.m., but I didn't feel like going to bed yet.

I found a notice on a bulletin board about a drama club forming, so Anna and I went to the theatre for the meeting. After all, I'd loved being in our high school plays. I'd been some type of talent agent in "Seasons in the Sun," and I'd played Frenchy in "Grease." Anna said she'd like to go, and I thought it would be fun. I walked in, and there was The Boy. It turns out he was majoring in theatre.

The three of us were becoming good friends, and hanging around having fun together. We'd play Trivial Pursuit, watch movies or the news together, go to town and see what was going on there (not much, by the way). I've always related better to males than females, and it was fun to have a new friend.

But then, one day, The Boy asked if Anna and I wanted to go to a movie in the student center. I asked Anna, and she said no, she'd better study. We saw The Karate Kid without her. Then there was a mixer/dance on the lawn outside our dorm. The three of us made plans to go, but then Anna had homework to do and about an hour before we were supposed to leave, told me she couldn't come.

I had noticed she "couldn't" get together very often anymore, and when she canceled for the dance, I finally asked her if she was upset. Did she feel excluded? I certainly didn't want that. Was he some jerk that was freaking her out, and I just didn't notice? Anna gave me a look that said, "get your head out of your butt, dummy!" But she didn't say that. She wouldn't. She was a preacher's daughter and she was, if nothing else, kind and sweet and good. "No," she said, "can't you see what's happening? He likes you. You guys would be a great couple." Then I felt bad. I said, "well, I am kind of starting to like him, but our friendship means more to me than a guy..."

"No," she said. "We'll still be friends. I did think I liked him for a little while, but really, he's not my type. He's more like a brother to me. He lights up when he sees you, and you do the same when you see him. I think you two need to be alone."

So, I went to the dance with The Boy. I explained that Anna couldn't be there, and he and I danced for awhile. It was so hot that night, everyone at the dance was practically dripping. The Boy said, "let's go sit for awhile," and we went to a quieter part of the lawn. As he sat down on a road box (from the band playing at the dance-I couldn't tell you who they were), I noticed he was REALLY out of breath. His body was almost rocking back and forth, and he was literlly dripping sweat. I asked him if he was okay, and he said "feel this." He took my hand and put it at the pulse point at the base of his neck--his heart rate was sky high! I'm not a medical person, but it was at least three times the normal rate. I went to get him some water, and by the time I came back, he was fine again.

At that moment, after the crisis had passed, I knew. Like they said in the movie "When Harry Met Sally," I knew the way you know about a good melon. He was The One. It wasn't a magical, star-studded, swelling-music moment. There were no violins. I just knew. It was more than love, it was, as corny as it sounds, a certainty that we were meant to be together.

It took him longer. We had our first "real" date on my birthday, September 14. He took me out for dinner, to The Pizza Shack in Lamoni. He wanted me to try a ham and pineapple pizza. I'd never heard of it, but didn't want to be a drag, so I tried it...it was delicious! Afterward, we went to my dorm to get the presents I'd saved to open, ones sent by my family for my birthday. We walked to the park, and in the middle of the park was a red caboose. We thought it was cool, so we went inside it and climbed around a bit, then I opened my presents from home. I got a pink long-sleeved t-shirt with the words Torch Lake screen printed on it in navy letters from my parents, and a stuffed "Odie" (from the comic strip "Garfield") from my sister. The Boy said he didn't have much money to buy me a present, but he produced a gift bag anyway. Inside the bag was a bottle of Cherry Coke. He'd been around me enough to know that I liked that. I was so touched! I thought it was incredibly thoughtful and sweet of him to do...he'd already bought dinner, after all.

I thanked him for sharing my birthday with me, my first without my family. I was sitting there on the bench, just smiling and thinking how happy I was. And he was sitting next to me smiling...when suddenly we looked at each other, and this was just like the movies...our heads slowly came together until we kissed. It was perfect, the best kiss I've ever had.

We dated the whole year, went to our formals (like a prom, but for college students) together, and were together every spare moment. We did theatre together and he taught me the backstage stuff. We spent hours and hours together doing shows, painting scenery, walking through parks, he came to the football games because I was in the band. And then, in about February, we were in a different park. The snow was melting, and we were by a river with one of those 6 foot diameter galvanized pipes that they use to route a river under a road. I said, "so, the school year is ending soon."
"Yes," said the boy."
I knew he wasn't planning on coming back for the next year, so I said, "It looks like we'll have to part ways."
"I don't want to," said The Boy.
"Neither do I, but what choice do we have? You're not coming back."
"No," he said, "but you could come with me."
"To Arizona?" (By now, I had a firmer grasp on geography.)
"Yes," he said. "There are lots of places to go to school there, and lots of jobs. You could make a living and still go to school."

And so, that's what we did. I packed up my life once again, and moved it even further west, to Phoenix. In November of 1988 we were married, both of us at the wise, ripe old age of 21. And today, almost 19 years later, we are still married. He's still a great kisser. He's a great father to our two kids. I'm just now getting back to school, but that was my choice. He's still working in theatre, as a technical director now. He's still the one person I can really talk to and remain myself, not having to fit into someone else's mold of what I "should" be. We've been through hell and back together more than once. And he still looks young (though being married to me all these years, I don't know how). The Boy is Tony. And he still buys me Cherry Coke when he wants to make me smile!


*"Anna" is not her real name.