I am glad she skipped the ballet 55 years ago

 

“A man is lucky if he is the first love of a woman. A woman is lucky if she is the last love of a man.”
― Charles Dickens

 

It is hard to believe that, as I write this 55 years later, I have a beautiful wife, four wonderful children, and nine of the most adorable and outstanding grandchildren a man could have.  All of this would never have happened without one single night in my life, that I had a big part in planning, but there must have also been a grander plan in bringing Mary and me together.  I planned the party, but God played a bigger hand in bringing Mary to the "joint."  That party was March 4th, 1966.   55 years ago today.

It was after the mid-February Minnesota state ski meet, March 4th, 1966, and before the Junior Nationals ski meet, I had qualified for in Winter Park, Colorado.  We would be skiing at 8,000 to 10,000 feet altitude.  Our snow had melted, and I was running to stay in shape.  I did not realize how lucky I was that my parents and I could afford to travel to the Colorado Rocky Mountains for a big national ski race.

I had set up a "joint" with a Southwest senior Y-teens group for March 4th, just about a week before the trip to Nationals.  The joint was at this nice house down on the Lake Harriet Parkway.  Gordy and I rode together (After reading the manuscript, Mary says Gordy drove, but I thought I drove the Rambler. It makes it a more cohesive story).  I enjoyed driving the Rambler in the snow.  I could pop the clutch and do 360-degree skids on snowy side streets, which often occurred on snowy Minnesota nights after a varsity basketball game.  What your parents do not know, would not kill them, right?

We arrived to find out that the senior Y-Teens group I had planned the party with had had to supplement their group with a bunch of sophomores from another Southwest Y-Teens group. What a disappointment!  We were the big seniors, the BMOCs (big men on campus, for those ill-informed).  A bunch of teenyboppers!  Although I had to say it was a good-looking group of girls and hard to pick out the seniors and sophomores.  Well, the night got better and better. I met this good-looking gal with long brown hair and beautiful brown eyes.  She wore a hand-sewn cranberry shift with a pink blouse and I was impressed during our first dance that she, Mary Gale as she introduced herself, had made the dress herself.  I wore a light blue velour sweater with a zipper neck. 

I have to say that I was immediately drawn to Mary for more than her great looks.  She was, at five foot six, tall and lithe, taller than most girls, with a beautiful Romanesque facial profile and beautiful, soft skin.  Her long brown hair hung down slightly below her shoulders (I think, although she wore it so many ways and it always looks great, she may tell me different).  It was not her great looks that drew me to her.  She was unusual for a fifteen-year-old girl.  She carried herself well.  She had a warmth and kindness that emanated from her.  She had strong empathy and was a good listener.  She was easy to talk to.  We immediately hit it off. 

Beyond the story about her hand-made shift, I do not remember much else of our initial conversation because, as soon as we danced, I could feel this electricity.  I was impressed that she had made her shift, and, when I told her I skied and was going to a national ski meet the next week, one of my buddies, overhearing the conversation, leaned over and mentioned my state championship.  She was impressed with my humility.  She was incredulous.  She asked, "you were the state champ?" as if someone was pulling her leg.  "Yeah, I was", I replied, as if it was just another day out on the ski trail.  She still was not sure.  She was impressed that I was not a braggart but still a bit doubtful that I had just won a state championship and was not "tooting my own horn", as Grama Pearl would often say.  We continued to dance.  She smelled delicious.  We were drawn to each other.  I shook with my familial tremor, but she told me later that she thought it was nervousness. 

We had an Iranian foreign exchange student in our Hi-Y group named Beh, who started writing people's names in Arabic.  He misunderstood Mary's last name as pronounced "jail", and I did too.  Of course, she was "jail-bait" back then, being all of 15.  I asked if I could take her home.  She got her Dad's permission to ride home with Gordy and me, but she refused my attempted kiss at her front door.   It was not an out-and-out rejection.  It was more of turning to open the door than a slap in the face or shoving me off her porch into a snow-bank.

I told her I would call.  After she got inside, she thought maybe I would not because she wouldn't kiss me.  Her friends all told her that "he'll never call."  I was a high and mighty senior and she was, well you know, a soph-o-more.  I waited until the middle of the week, when my parents were not home, which seemed like an eternity to her.  I waited for my parent to be gone because our phones were in the kitchen and hallway which made it difficult to have a private conversation.  Who wants your mother to listen in any way?  I wanted privacy.  I needed privacy.  It might be the start of something.  What seventeen-year-old does not want their privacy?  We went to her Winter Carnival with Gordy and his SW date and then I headed off to Colorado to stay in the honeymoon cabins at Winter Park.  Yeah? They were called the honeymoon cabins.

I did not realize it at the time, but we shared many similar traits that would make our life together and marriage strong but we would also find out that we were very different in so many ways.  One of the most powerful traits that we share is our intuitiveness, that is, our ability to see the possibilities in all things.  We are both visionaries where many people are not.  If most people see the apple as red and round, Mary and I see it as delicious, nutritious, healthy, fleshy, juicy, and much more.  In many ways, that led our life down a different path, causing us to move away from family and start a new life in St. Louis.  We were both high-energy kids, running circles around others.  We still are at the age of nearly 70, although the energy level is lower, but not the level of most 70-year-olds.  We did not know it at the time, but we would lead a frenetic life, full of adventures for ourselves and our children, and now, our grandchildren.  That energy may come from being slightly ADD or something like that, but we have always gone to the point of exhaustion.  Exhaustion just comes a little sooner nowadays.  Mary has many fine traits that I might have seen on that first night.   I do not remember now, but I recognize them today and realize how lucky I was to call her back that next week.  Our children have been lucky, too, inheriting her kindness and regard for others, her ability to put others' needs ahead of her own, her strong sense of service and social consciousness.  She can carry on a conversation about many topics and is a delightful person.  She has a strong sense of right and wrong, going back to working with disadvantaged children at the Pillsbury House in Minneapolis with her sister, Barb.  She still carries the cross for many social causes and a liberal outlook that we both share now in our social justice commitments. 

I cannot think of anyone who has not taken a liking to her from the moment they meet her.  She has a gracefulness that came from her upbringing, something that I could see immediately in her mother and father.  You know the saying, "If you want to know who the person you are marrying will be in 30 years, look at their mother"?  Well, I liked her mother immediately too.  She was genteel and humble and had a beauty of her own at age 50 in 1966.  I do not know what else to say that drew me to Mary that night.  It is hard to remember, but it was immediate, and I still see all those wonderful things today.  She was the perfect dance partner that night, and I might have missed out if she had opted for the Minneapolis Ballet.  Some greater being had a hand in bringing us together that night.

I am really glad she skipped the ballet that night 55 years ago today.