I met my husband in the spring of 1972, the year I graduated from high school. Farrell's Ice Cream Parlor was opening in our small town and my best friend, Laura and I wanted to work there. It was a “cool” place in so many ways. I was already accepted as an International Agriculture major at Cal Poly Pomona with a full scholarship. I had enough credits to graduate from high school after the first semester, so I was able to leave school at 10:30AM because my favorite teacher, Mr. Alstrum let me be his teaching assistant for that 4th period. I got hired as a daytime waitress for the lunch shift, and Laura was a nighttime cashier. Close to opening day, Keith came in from another Farrell’s and was charged with teaching all of us how to properly fill the condiment jars according to health department rules. I made a comment to my friend, “I can’t believe this guy is showing us how to fill a jar” and I swear I heard a growl to go with his icy stare.
From then on, it was “game on '' between us. Keith was our assistant manager and was engaged to get married in a year. I first dated a few of the guys at Farrell’s, but then started seriously dating seriously the area training supervisor, Jack. The year before, I had broken up with my high school sweetheart, who had gotten his boss’s daughter pregnant. He had a shotgun marriage during our senior year. I started dating for the first time in my life during my senior year, but I was getting tired of playing all the dating games. Although I was a flower child of the seventies and enjoyed going to parties, drinking, smoking pot, and spending my days off at the beach, I was looking for a more serious relationship like I had for over three years with my steady boyfriend in high school. I continuously got disappointed. But this new guy I was dating had his own apartment, a nifty sports car, and he was seven years older. Jack also wanted a serious relationship. He was an intellectual that could discuss philosophical matters for hours and a talented artist. But it was hard for me to relate to Jack. When you’re only seventeen, those many years in age difference are difficult. Keith was less than a year older than me, but born an old soul. He was organized, serious, and focused. Even today, we tease him about his “Spidey Sense '' or ability to sense danger. He tells our granddaughters to always trust their naturally inherited “Spidey Sense '' and get away from any situation that doesn’t seem right.
Keith and I had an ongoing adversary attraction. I would toss something from the salad station at him while he walked by, or endlessly tease him about being too young to get married. My pestering and teasing started getting his attention and we began sneaking off after work to the park, or to the beach to talk. We’d talked about how similar our childhoods were. Both of our mothers were strong Catholics girls who came from immigrant families who occasionally spoke their native languages in the home. His grandmother came from Italy and my mother’s family was German. Both of our fathers came from a long line of British families that had come to America in the 1700s. Keith is the fifth cousin of Winston Churchill twice removed. My father’s family came from Yorkshire, England and my great grandfather and great great grandfather were Baptist preachers. Each of our fathers had converted to Catholicism to marry Catholic girls. My father’s family had suffered terribly in World War II, losing their oldest son in Germany and a son-in-law as a Navy pilot in the Pacific. How could my grandmother possibly approve of her only surviving son marrying a German girl like my mom when less than five years earlier her favorite son had died at the hands of the Germans on Christmas Day in the Battle of the Bulge? My dad said, “we told your grandma that your mom was Danish.” This was partly true since my mom’s family came from northern Germany, and one great grandparent was born in Denmark, another in The Netherlands. Keith’s father served during the war as a Navy Seabee, and then the Navy as a career, eventually retiring as a Chief.
After a few months, Keith and I broke up with our existing partners, and we started dating seriously. He did so many kind things! He would replace my torn beach towel, and rushed to open the car door for me. He would help me be a 4-H Junior Leader, getting all my young 4-H team’s sheep ready for judging at the fair. Oddly enough, even though I grew up in a more rural west coast town, it wasn’t expected to go to college after high school. Many of my fellow classmates merely took up a trade, got married, and settled down. I wanted to go to college, but the night before I was supposed to leave for Cal Poly, I wrote a letter to the scholarship board and asked that my scholarship funds be transferred to the local community college, Mira Costa in Oceanside that had an agricultural program. I liked Keith so much and I didn’t want to be far away from him. I'm not sure when I fell in love with Keith, but I liked him so much that I wanted to be with him. There is a song that I think sums this up; "Lucky I'm in love with my best friend, Lucky to have been where I have been..."
I did end up getting my degree, but that is for another blog.
Visit my YouTube Account - Owen the Giraffe
.JPG)
