It is amazing sometimes how an incident that happens makes you think of something that occurred in the past. The incident doesn’t even have to be relayed to the past thought. It is just that some quirk in your brain links the two.
Since we often think of the past, the Blonde in the house and I decided that we should write our life’s history. Neither of us would be writing a book that we would publish. Rather, it would be just written to give to our kids a narrative form following our years from our birth to the present. Since there have been quite a few years, it will probably take some time so we need to get moving.
We both have begun our work. I haven’t seen hers and she hasn’t seen mine.
I am looking forward to reading her early history to see what went on before I came along and swept her off her feet. I am at that point in my essay. It involves the day we became engaged. She was living in Pittsburgh, and I was in a suburb.
I asked her if she would like to visit my Uncle Everitt who lived in Beaver, Pa. which was not far away. She indicated that would be nice. What I hadn’t told her was that good old Uncle Everitt owned a jewelry store. I had contacted him and informed him that I was looking for an engagement ring and indicated what funds I had for such a purpose – which was not much by the way.
I did not advise my wife to be (I hoped) what I had planned. I intended once we were inside the store to say something like, “Hey, would you like to look at engagement rings?” However, what actually occurred was that when I opened the door, Uncle Everitt said, “Is this the young lady for the engagement ring”? I looked at her, and she smiled. We went over to the counter and found one that she liked – and that I could afford. After thanking Uncle Everitt, we returned to Pittsburgh and astounded some folks including her mother – who approved by the way. I was leading a charmed life then.
We were married a few months later. We spent our honeymoon in the Poconos. We had an expensive honeymoon that cost $128 for the week – including meals, of course. This was good since I was only making $315 a month.
In any case, we had the married life for two months to the day when I received a notice from the draft board. We ended up at Ft. Gordon, GA for the rest of my years of military service – after training at Ft. Jackson, SC. Once I was discharged, I took a job in Roanoke, VA and then led The Blonde through six states and eleven different communities during my career as a city manager. We covered much territory and many experiences in our sojourn through city management. Now, we look back at them from our vantage point here in The Villages.
Now you know the rest of the story! OK, not all of the rest but some of it anyhow. Best I can do at the moment!
Columnist Barry Evans is a Villager.