How We Met - Hubby's Version aka The CORRECT Version

In honor of my and Hubby's 32nd wedding anniversary, here is the somewhat flawed, in my opinion story of how we met,in 1978, from Hubby's perspective. If you want to read my version, go here. (Or just scroll down in case I don't get the link in.) He insists that his is the correct version. So, without further delay, here is his version, in his own words (more or less.)


First, I spotted her in her orange dress, "Dorothy Hamill" hair-cut, and big....glasses. I had top secret people check her out and see if she was married.

Dorothy Hammil,  (source)

Once I discovered she was available, I went through her line to ask her out. Hoping for a yes, but expecting a no. She turned me down.


My second attempt, I bought some Trail balogna. I took my youngest brother with me. I took him everywhere with me--not thinking of the perception of what it might mean. And, she turned me down again.


After much grueling anguish and rejection, I decided that "three shots for a quarter" was good. If she rejected me a third time, I was done.


So, I decided to go shopping again. As I paced the floor of the supermarket, trying to gain courage, there to my dismay, stood my sister-in-law. She had spotted me. She knew my purpose. She put me in a very peculiar situation. She would be relentless, to the point of being obnoxious, that I be persistent in my goal, or she would make a fool of me. 'Nuff said.


So, I bolted to the counter for my last attempt. My sister-in-law pulled her cart right behind me. There was no backing out. In my mind, I said, "What the heck", and gave it everything I had.


To my delight, she (the beautiful, amazing cashier) said, "Yes." 


I strolled out of the store with her phone number. I was on Cloud Nine.


And, I thought I was nervous before...!

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How Our Story Started

Hubby and I are celebrating our 32nd wedding anniversary. It seems impossible that we are that old already, but it's true. Would it help if I said we married at the legal age of .....ummm.....12? (Is that legal anywhere?? Oh well. One of us has gray hair, and I wish I could say it was Hubby!)


Anyway, way back in the last century, (1978), I was working as a cashier at the big grocery store in town. Remember when the cash registers had buttons on them, and the cashier had to punch the price in? Yeah, it was that far back.


I was home from college after failing miserably in getting my MRS degree. 


Now I  was working as a cashier. I was given my uniform. Yes, uniform. It was a dress, and, of all the myriad of colors available, the color orange was chosen by my employer. It was a vibrant orange, easy to see from miles around. It happened to be the same color as my orange VW Beetle Bug. We looked like a matched set. That was not something I had planned.


One summer day, one of the stock boys came to me and said, "There's a guy in here who wants to ask you out." As he scanned the parking lot, he said "I'll see if his truck is still here."


Truck? The guy doesn't drive a car? Why would someone need a truck? Truck? That's just great.


"Yeah, he's still here."


That immediately sent me into a panic. My line of defense was to leave my register. An accepted form of work was to scour the aisles for shoplifters. My sister also worked there, so we both decided it was time to do our duty and look for shoplifters and/or single guy that wanted to ask me out.


But, apparently, while I was at the back of the store, he was at the front. And so, our paths did not cross that day.


The next time he came in, I had no prior warning. I was at my cash register when this tall, cute, farmer-looking guy, with a young boy at his side came through my aisle. I was surprised when he asked me out. (Was this THE guy, or was it just a coincidence that another guy was asking me out? But, who was this little boy? His son? Was he divorced? Oh my, oh my, what to do?)


The next words that came out of my mouth were so profound, and so intelligent...."Ummmmmmm, I'm sorry. I have to study." (I had signed up to take classes at the local business college, still trying to get my MRS degree.)


And, so, he and the little boy left.


Then, on a busy Saturday, there he was again. Standing in my line. He didn't have the little boy with him, but, who was that woman standing and talking with him?  His wife????  What is going on here?????  


Soon, it was his turn. And, as I rang up his small purchase, he again, asked me for a date. My brillant mind quickly deduced that the woman was not his wife.


So, I said, "Yes, sure."  


I gave him my name and phone number, and he said he'd call. I asked him his name. Oh. Such a common name. I was hoping for something a little more exotic. Oh well. It's a nice name.


After he walked away, my sister, who was running the register next to me said, "Are you crazy? You don't know him!!"


I just said, "Oh, he looks harmless."




This is MY version of our story. I will publish Hubby's version tomorrow. It differs slightly in the number of times he actually asked me out. I say I'm right, he maintains that HE has the correct version.

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The Wimpification of the North

I've been noticing a trend lately that has been bothering me.  Maybe all the whiteness outside is starting to get to me, but it seems to me that The North is becoming very wimpy.  Last Friday, the reports starting going out that there was a "Winter Storm Warning" for our area.  Before snow started to fall, at least one place closed in anticipation for the coming snow.  Really??  Please. This is the north, for Pete's sake. Surely we have the salt and trucks needed to keep things running. 


The mounds of snow that surround our driveway are growing.  The snow is not falling today, and I am thankful for that! The mounds are growing because of all the snow that has to be shoveled off the driveway. Even though the mounds are three to four feet high (maybe higher in some places!) there is no comparison to the winter mountains we had way back in the winters of '77 and '78.

During the winter of 1977, I was attending college in Searcy, Arkansas.  Back home in Ohio, lots and lots of snow was falling, and I was happy to be down south and away from all the white stuff.  But, one day, while sitting through one of my classes, I heard someone exclaim, "It's SNOWING!!!  Suddenly, there was a mass exodus from their chairs over to the windows!  "Ohhhhh", "ahhhhhh", "It's so pretty", "Look at it!"   The three of us that were still in our seats, were obviously from the north. We had seen snow before.  The snow continued, and our professor called everyone back to their seats.  She continued teaching, but the falling snow still commanded everyone's attention.  Classes were eventually canceled.  We ended up with several inches, and were able to make a mighty fine snow woman. 

Things back home were much different.  Blizzards, snow, ice, school closings for days.  I didn't get to experience that particular Ohio winter, so I'll fast-forward to the next year, 1978.

I was out of college, and back home, and working at our local grocery store. This was before Wal-Mart, and before Super K-Mart.  This was even before purchased items were scanned. I actually had to punch in the numbers and the department by hand for every single item. Yeah, we're talking way back in the day.  But, I digress.

The winter of '78 started early, hit hard, and seemed to last forever.  On the days when the weather was exceptionally bad, my dad would drive my sister and I to work. We worked at the same store and had the same schedule.  There were times when the visibility was zero, due to the swirling and blowing snow.  We persevered on, and made it to work. One time things got so bad that we were stranded at the store.  A few of the employees who lived out of town, actually spent the night at the store owner's (aka Earl) house. Those of us who lived in town got home via the store owner's son-in-law (aka Greg) who had a 4-wheel-drive jeep (and we're talking the army-style jeep with zip up windows, not the SUV model). 

The next day, the weather had not improved. I didn't even think it necessary to call in and say we wouldn't be coming to work.  I was all set to hunker down and watch t.v., hoping a good movie would be on. (Also before dvd's, vcr's, movie rentals.)  But before I had a chance to get comfy, our phone rang.  It was Earl.
Earl: I need you and your sister to come in today.
Me: The roads are too bad, we weren't planning to come in.
Earl: People need to buy eggs and bread and milk. I need you to work. I'm sending Greg to pick you up.
Me: But, I wasn't coming in.
Earl: Greg will be there in 30 minutes.

And, sure enough, he was. Earl called us because of the two for one bonus.  It turned out my sister and I were the only cashiers there (out of about 12). And, it turned out that a lot of people needed eggs and bread and milk. And, they were willing to brave the nasty weather to get it!  People were lined up all the way to the back of the store. As if that wasn't enough pressure, Earl would stand right beside us as we were ringing up the groceries, and start asking questions. No pressure there. 

At the end of the day, Greg was there to take us home.

I don't know how much snow we got that winter, but there were mountains of snow that lined the roads.  There was so much snow that it seemed as if we were driving through dirty, snowy tunnels. There were mountains of snow in the middle of parking lots. And, I'm also pretty sure that we were way into April before all the snow had melted away.

So, let's not be acting like southerners who aren't prepared for snow. 

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