My Love Story- part 4- State of Confusion

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Gary's 2 years of serving and growing and learning and maturing had come to an end.

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My 2 years of immaturing and rebelling and wreaking havoc on a loving home seemed to have no end in sight.

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As Gary had come home after completing a successful mission, I had just failed the 9th grade. I was already older that the other kids in my grade and was headed toward using a walker at my high school graduation.

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To complete my 9th grade year I needed to go to summer school for either math or PE. I disliked them both, but PE seemed to be the lesser of the two evils.

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There are teacher success stories abound, many a people have had teachers change their lives, but who knew that the teacher who would do that for me would be a PE coach and who knew it would happen with a group of misfits during summer school? That summer I had a 3 hour workout from Monday to Friday with a very tough coach. When the high school football players missed a day of conditioning, they came to our PE class to make up the work and said our workout was harder than their football conditioning. What we did was more like boot camp. We were pushed in ways that PE coaches don't usually push a PE class (coach admitted). We spent the first hour and a half running and the next hour an a half of calisthenics. Our coach didn't let us quit, didn't let us take breaks (until he said so), he didn't let us tell ourselves we couldn't. His motto was mind over matter. He taught us, at least he taught me, that I could succeed in anything if I put my mind to it. It's certainly a lesson I'd been taught before- by my parents, church leaders, other school teachers, but Coach Burke spoke my language.

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Before I knew it I had muscles. I was an athlete. And I had the beginning of an attitude change.

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One day I was waiting (with my knew athletic body) for my mom to come and pick me up after summer school when Gary and another friend from our church Ed pulled up in The Blue Bomber. They said they were all headed to the beach, a big group of them, including my older brother and sister, and they got permission to come and pick me up, 'did I want to come to?' Of course I did! But before we got into the car, I asked if they wanted to see my new biceps (they really were impressive) and they both busted out laughing, saying, "Your mom told us that you'd show us your muscles."

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Gary's summer job was delivering ice cream. He was an ice cream man. He very often stopped by our house and all my siblings would gather around his truck with the music going, goofing off and teasing each other, until he remembered he had a job to do. One particular day after a normal visit around the ice cream truck he left and we all went inside the house. Darla and I were telling mom the latest silly conversation that was just had outside with Gary. My mom looked at us both and said, "You know, I am not sure which one of you Gary's coming by to see."

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That nearly took my breath away. What was she saying?? Surely he's coming to see Darla, right? Surely he is. She's all grown up, she's moved to California and is just home for the summer. I'm just little old me.

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Could it be?

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It wasn't until then that I started taking notice of everything he said and did regarding me.

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Is he teasing me or is he flirting?

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Oh, but it didn't matter. I still had a boyfriend, I still had Al. WE were madly in love. Right?

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Then the days before Darla was to fly back to California (where she was busy enjoying California boys)...... I got dumped.

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Al broke up with me.

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The night before Darla was to leave she was out for the evening, I was home babysitting my younger siblings, it was late and they were in bed. I was down in the dumps with my break up and I pulled out the great big box of love letters Al had written me, I had Lionel Richie's song Stuck on You playing on my record player, playing over and over and over. I had the lights dimmed- the song, the letters, and tears. Lots and lots of tears. I read, I listened, I sobbed. I had a big puffy red runny nose and swollen face........ when someone knocked on the door.

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It was Gary.

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He had come to say goodbye........ to Darla.

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(with a little, "What's with the tears?!")

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to be continued

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My Love Story- part 3- His Best & My Worst

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Gary was 19 and for the young men in our church, that means serving a mission. And a good thing Gary chose to do so because as far back as I can remember, my heart was set on marrying a young man that did just that.

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The whole congregation, the very folk that helped raise him, was excited about his mission call. If not a tad bit confused though, as he was called to serve in Salt Lake City, Utah. Weren't all Utahan's Mormon already?

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(the answer is no)

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Gary's last Sunday before his mission was celebratory for the good work he'd be doing for the next two years, it was a nice send off, a heartfelt farewell. He spoke in church that day, along with his family. His family was very well pleased, as we all were.

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And he'd never been cuter.

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My older sister Darla was still crushin' on Gary, and was sure to miss him for the next two years. As she tried to snap a picture of him after church that day, I did as I always did when she tried to have a moment with him. I made my presence known.

(picture taken at Gary's mission farewell)

Gary spent the next two years serving, being selfless, focused on the important things in life, growing in many ways and doing good things. I, on the other hand, spent the next two year rebellious, confused, angry and grumpy. Doing miserably in school and making those around me miserable. Teenage angst? Yeah, I had that.

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I started 'going with' Al. I wasn't old enough to go anywhere with him, but that's what we called dating in the 80's.

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Gary was in a good place looking in the right direction and I was doing the exact opposite.

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.At last, after serving honorably, Gary's 2 years was up and he came home.

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to be continued

My Love Story- part 2- The Date and Then Some

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I should not have been surprised that Gary asked my sister out on a date. All of the older boys from church seemed fascinated by this new 16 year old girl. And what wasn't to love about her? She was petite, she had big brown eyes, porcelain skin (compared to my freckle face) and she was easy going and kind. Besides, Gary- having grown up in this small town and church had many adults who knew him since he was a baby cheering him on, excited to be a part of this match making.

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I had mixed emotions about this date. I was excited for my sister as I always was when her guys came around, and excited for the scoop on Gary and his dating ways, but jealousy was in full force.

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After Darla's and Gary's date they pulled into our drive way in the '65 Ford Galaxy named the Blue Bomber. I had been anxiously waiting for them and I made my presence known. Luckily where they parked was right by my bedroom window and being a mature 13, I pulled my window open and called out to them. "How was the date? Did you guys have fun? What did you do? Are you going to kiss her goodnight? Are you? Are you? Huh? Huh? Go ahead, you should. Kiss her!"

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A 13 year old sister makes a great kissing deterrent.

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Time went on without any more dates between the two of them. He graduated high school and at 17 found himself at BYU. That summer he came home before his mission. I had turned 14 and Youth Conference came, my first and his last. I was busy crushin' on the boys my age and picked out just the one for me. Greg. And life wasn't going to be complete if he didn't feel the same about me. I worked real hard flirting for 2 whole days and it was coming down to the final night and formal dance. We danced a few times and it was the last dance. Oh how I wanted Greg to ask me. If he asked me for the last dance, I would know he felt the same. I spotted him and it looked as though he spotted me. He started walking my way. Yes! I tried to look cool and nonchalant and he came closer and closer. I was ready to hop out of my seat and enjoy this last dance with him when he stopped one seat shy of where I was sitting and asked my friend (and Gary's cousin and neighbor) for the last dance.

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Noooooooooooooooooooooo!!!

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It couldn't be!

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My heart....

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My life..... it was over.

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Just then I see my mom and chaperone who had seen it all happen suggest to Gary that he ask me to dance. And he did. He was so very kind, sensitive to my feelings, he cracked a few jokes and made me feel good about my life almost ending.

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Two months later he was gone, he headed out to serve a 2 year mission.

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to be continued

My Love Story -part 1- We Meet

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Since everyone (all 3) wants to hear my love story (I'll stop twisting your arm now)

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It was a dark and dreary night, except the dreary part (but it was dark). My family had just moved from the capitol city of South Carolina to what we call 'the boonies', with the closest South Carolinian town being a very small town about 20 minutes away. We left a home that had tall office buildings in the backyard, to a backyard that consisted of a pond and plenty of woods to discover. I was in the 7th grade and excited about the move. Some children seem to struggle with moving from school to school and town to town, but not me. I was always up for the adventure. We were settling into our new home and my dad was driving into town to our new church to meet with the Branch President (a Branch President is equivalent to a Pastor in other religions) and me and my sister tagged along.

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My sister and I were excited to see where we would now be attending church. We pulled up to a much smaller building than we were used to. We entered the building and saw that yes, most definitely, this move was a good one. We were going to like this town and we were going to love this branch, for there was a room full of teen aged boys playing basketball, half of them shirtless, which was how they identified teams. Oh yes, this move was looking good. Literally.

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I, in my young 13 years of age, was a big fan of boys. I always had been. I never thought boys had cooties and they never grossed me out. In 3rd grade I sat across from Steve Lee.... and winked at him. In fifth grade I was fascinated by Billy Whitmires full lips, I was already imagining what kissing would be like. I am pretty sure that I was the #1 fan of boys. So sitting in the room full of basketball playing half shirtless boys was heaven, and I was scoping them out. The red headed guy with the chipped front tooth. The chunky fella that looked my age. The three brothers (the oldest being a bad boy, the middle one being the cute one, and the youngest being kind), to name a few. And my Gary was one of them.

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Gary wasn't one of the tallest by any means, but he was most definitely an athlete. Baseball obviously had him out in the sun a lot and something about his olive complexion and blue/green eyes made him look Italian in my 7th grade mind.

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But I can't pretend it was love at first sight. I mean, I loved them all as a group, for being boys. And I loved that there were a few of them to choose from that I put in the cute category. I loved the attention me and my sister were getting and that they seemed to be showing off for us, but Gary wasn't the first one in my line of who I would have a crush on. Mainly because Gary was out of my age range. It was like a second grader having a crush on her P.E. coach. However he was the perfect age for my older sister. Handsome as heck but too old, not too old for me to notice, but too old for him to notice me.

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The next day we attended school for the first time and I continued to enjoy the attention of being the new girl and enjoyed checking out all the new boys. When I went to gym that day a very chipper girl came to me and introduced herself saying, "Are you Mormon? Cause I am Mormon!" and that was that, fast friends were we. It turned out she was Gary's first cousin and next door neighbor.

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My teen aged siblings and I quickly settled in with the teenagers at our church and over the course of the next year or so the teen aged boys from church especially enjoyed driving out to the boonies where we lived to swim and fish in our pond. Gary usually drove a car full of friends over, he had a large older car that was called the Blue Bomber, which added to his cool factor.

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Then there were the visits I took to his cousin and next door neighbors house, with a large family dinner.... and Gary. So handsome, so manly, so out of my reach.

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Once my friend (and his cousin and next door neighbor) had a slumber party that I was invited to. We all slept in tents in her backyard and very very late that night Gary's younger sister declared there were cookies at her house, so we all gathered and tiptoed as quietly as any young teen aged girl could, in other words loudly, to her sleeping house and snuck in. We tried to be quiet and not wake anyone, we really did, but someone did wake up dazed and confused by the ruckus. Someone wearing nothing but tightie whites. Someone named Gary, who walked in the room we were all standing in and saw us and ran back to his bedroom.

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Seeing Gary in his underwear sure seemed like bragging rights to take home to my older and also smitten sister. Oh yeah!

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Only until she exclaimed that she had been asked out on a date, by Gary.

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to be continued

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One Lucky Girl

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Sometimes I moan and complain but the fact of the matter is, I am one lucky girl. I have a man who loves me and I love him. Boy do I ever love him!

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For three mornings in a row last week I woke to my husband having left for work and having left me a love note.

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I've just been thinking, it's the month of love and although I am not a fan of Valentine's Day (how contradictory does that sound?) I love love. I mean to tell you, I LOVE LOVE!

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So I had a thought, have you ever read Pioneer Woman's love story?

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It's worth reading.

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I am no Pioneer Woman and my husband may not be Marlboro Man. (he's better!)

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But dare I write our love story?

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Or will it make you gag?

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That's the question for the day.
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Jumbled

Last night I drove a few towns over to speak to a group of teen aged girls and their parents. Nervous! What you see above is the notes for my speech- or as I phrase it, my talk. It took somewhere from 10 to 15 minutes to give the talk. Can you believe that I can get 10-15 minutes out of that small page of a jumbled mess??? Me neither.

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But it's the only way I know how.

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For one, if I write much more down, I'll be looking at the paper the whole time. So this way forces me not to read to others.

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For two, well, I don't know what to tell you about the jumbled mess part.

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I just hope that my talk wasn't a jumbled mess. But I realize that's very likely.

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You are Never Too Old

We discussed this video on my family's website.

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Using phrases like, it's never too late.

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We were mostly talking about it never being too late to start exercising and trying to be healthier.

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But I felt, after viewing the video, that it's never too late to start anything.

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I love inspiring people.

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They..... inspire me. :)

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