Chapter 10: THE Ring

CHAPTER TEN

THE Ring

March also meant the beginning of the extended rehearsal schedule for the school musical for her senior year, How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. That meant Linda had Saturday daylong rehearsals again, as we’d had together the year before. While it was a minor disappointment, we made the best of it. Every Saturday I came up to the school, met her at lunch time and we’d walk to Frisch’s, or what was then the “big place” for students to hang out (as it had been in my year), The Golden Point. That place was something of a grease pit but then isn’t every high school kid’s hangout about the same way? This place was a restaurant built into a modified-design A-frame structure, which was obviously the reason for its name.
(The Golden Point was torn down sometime in the 70’s and replaced with a McDon-ald’s. More “progress”. Not in my book. JAW 11/18/99)

After her day’s rehearsal was over, we’d have dinner and spend the evening together. Dinner, about ½ the time was with her family. I felt a little self-conscious about them feeding me that often, but they made it clear it was far from an imposition. George and Ginny had made no bones about the fact that they looked upon me as the son they never had, which felt just great to a kid who really had no relationship to speak of left with his own parents. They had long ago insisted I call them “mom” and “dad”, which quickly made all of us more comfortable, and closer as a family.
Since I’d left home, they were the only immediate family I had. That gave both George and I something special. He got that son he never had, and I got a father I could relate to, communicate with, and even confide in. And for me that was (outside of Linda of course) the greatest thing that ever happened to me.
The next week brought a flurry of activity. On Monday, March 13, I moved in with my grandmother and aunt in Norwood. They made the offer, and it saved me about $10 a month so I graciously accepted.
Mr. Wilson had retired from the orchestra conductor's position at Anderson to teach only French (he’d been teaching both the last few years), effective with the 1965-66 school year. This particular week the new conductor, Mr. Dale Swisher chose certain members of the string section to form the ensemble. Linda was concertmistress again this year, but a Junior classmate got the 1st Violin position in the ensemble. I'm glad I was on day shift. Tuesday night I had my hands full.
"Jim, I just don't understand it!" she cried. "Either he's giving me first chair just to keep me happy so I won't get uptight and have a seizure, and he doesn't really think I'm that good, or, if I am that good, I should be in the ensemble."
I hugged her even tighter, if that was possible. "I know, honey. I know. And nothing I say can make it any easier to take. I should know. I missed first chair cello completely my junior year because of a similar situation. You remember that." She nodded. "The only difference is, my problem was political. Yours is one man's decision. Problem is, even knowing that doesn't help. I'm going to talk to him. Maybe I can change his mind, especially if it's seizure-oriented."
"Oh, Jim, I don't know. You're liable to get too steamed at him and say something you'll regret later. Or he'll take it out on me."
"No, honey. You won't have any problems like that. I promise. I know you still have to put up with him, and the school, for three months yet. I won't make it any tougher for you. That's not what I'm here for," I said, smiling. I kissed her.
"I know," she said sheepishly, slowly trusting her face to try a smile once again. She kissed me back. "Just don't get yourself in trouble either."
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm not a student there now. The worst he can do is order me out of the building."
I knew that Mr. Swisher wasn't the monster he appeared to be to Linda just then, and so did she. But we did have to respect his authority.
Wednesday afternoon I stopped by the orchestra rehearsal room and waited outside the door until the rehearsal was over and the bell had rung. I didn't want to give him any excuse to kick me out before I got started, though I didn't really think there'd be a problem. He'd really always been a pretty good guy. When the students had gone, Linda included (she blew me a kiss as she left), I entered and walked to his office.
He remembered me from last year (he'd been working with Mr. Wilson the last three years), so introductions were no problem. Our discussion lasted about 20 minutes, and I did get a little emphatic about a couple of points, like the emotional effect it was having on Linda. But Mr. Swisher stood his ground.
"Boy. I wish Mr. Wilson had waited just one more year," I thought as I left the building. "Then there's the fact that he almost made the change before my senior year. Guess Linda and I were both lucky at that. I had Mr. Wilson for my senior year, Linda had him an extra year, and only one year of Swisher."

('Only one year of Swisher'. That wasn't knocking him, only looking at Linda's position. Plus the fact that Linda adored Mr. Wilson. He had been one of the few friends she had in that building. And he thought the world of her, too. He spotted her talent in 8th grade. Sold her her violin for $100. And back then the 9th grade was part of the Jr. High. Yet there were three students he didn't want to hold back from experience. So Barbara Pusack, Geraldine (Gerri) Wymer and Linda played in the Senior High orchestra too. To the orchestra they were affectionately known as the "Three Freshmen".
As of the school's 50-year reunion in June 1980, all indications were that Mr. Wilson hadn't yet heard she had died. Shortly after the reunion I finally managed to catch him at home one Friday evening long enough to visit him in person and tell him. I knew she'd want it that way. Not second hand or over the phone. I gave him a double frame with copies of our two Senior pictures in it. He hesitated to take it, but he did when I told him I knew she'd want him to have it in return for all the things he'd meant to her. Now all I need to do is find the time to stay in touch with him. J.A.W. 9/3/84)
(Which I never did. Conversations at my table while attending my 30th reunion in 1996 indicated that Mr. Wilson was, or was at least thought to be gay. Had Linda lived to hear that, I don’t think it would have changed her opinion of him; they’d been too close for that. But it would have been quite a shock. We’ll see if I can get back in touch with him after a school-wide reunion planned for 2000. JAW 10/25/99)
(Another update. The 2000 reunion, also school-wide, was held on Saturday, July 15th. There I learned that teachers had not been invited. I’m planning on writing the Alumni Association to see if they can put me in touch with him. JAW 8/1/00)

That night I told Lin the bad news.
"Well, you tried, and I love you for it," she said affectionately. It meant a lot just to know you were here to try and help me out. That you were here when I needed you."
"Thanks, sweetheart. It feels good to be around in case things like this come up. I couldn't do that when we couldn't be together. And it hurt." I hugged her. Tightly. "But it hurt because I love you. And that means everything." The kiss she gave me then proved without a doubt that she felt exactly the same way.
On Thursday, March 16th, I moved again. This time to a little second floor two-room flat, still in Norwood. I wanted more privacy, and I got that plus a stove and refrig-erator. Now I could fix at least some of my own meals, hopefully, and save a little more money. (But remember: this is B.M. – Before Microwaves. JAW 4/15/00).

March also meant Linda’s 18th birthday. We didn’t have any money to do very much, but that didn’t bother us. Actually, after what we’d been through, for just about anything to bother us it really had to be a MAJOR imposition on our time together or our plans for the future. So there weren’t many things that bothered the two of us. We were together. Period. We did things when we could but we were mainly looking ahead. We’d opened a savings account already and were putting what we could in there so we’d have something set aside from day 1 of the marriage.
Saturday morning I picked up Linda's rings. "Eighteen years old today," I thought as I drove to her house from town. "Why can't the legal age be 18 in Ohio like it is in Kentucky?" I asked the wind, rhetorically, and a trifle frustrated. "Couldn't pick a better occasion to give her the ring if I wanted to, though." Fifteen minutes later I knocked on the door. "Guess who?" I said lightheartedly as dad opened it.
"Who else?" he retorted, smiling. "C'mon in, Jim. She's in the family room."
"Happy birthday, Squeek!" I called as I made my way down there behind dad.
"Thank you, sweetheart!" she said with as much love in her face as joy. She gave me a bear hug.
I reached in my pocket and got out the box. "Like I said, Squeek.... Happy Birth-day!" Her parents and sister gathered around. They knew what the gift was when they saw the shape of the box, but that didn't take anything from the excitement, or the gift itself. Linda opened the box.
"Oh, Linda!" mom exclaimed. "It's beautiful!"
"It's larger than the other one isn't it?" asked dad.
"You noticed!" Linda chirped eagerly. "Yes, it is. Jim told me to get one a little bigger if I wanted. And you know me and my love for the looks of big diamonds! He said he could afford it, soooo..." Her smile was so wide she had trouble forming that last word.
By now the box had been passed to both parents, and Cork, and back. Linda took the engagement ring out, and was about to put it on her finger.
"Hold it, Squeek! I'm supposed to do that!" I playfully yelled. "Besides that, I want to see if they can read the inscription." I passed the ring to mom.
"Okay, so I'm eager. Can you blame me?" she returned, smiling.
"J.W. to L.H...3/18/67" mom recited. Smiling, she handed me the ring.
"Yep, that's it!" Linda chimed in. “NOW will you put it on my finger?" she asked, a mild frustration showing through that eager voice. But the affection and humor were there, too. I warmly kissed her, took her hand, and poised the ring at the end of her finger.
"This time it's here to stay," I said as I slid the ring onto her finger. "I love you, Linda, and I always will."
"And I love you, Jim. With all my heart."
"Aw, mush, mush, mush!" Cork intoned from the couch.
"Aw, shush, shush, shush!" I answered playfully. That "mush, mush, mush" line was Cork's favorite response if she was around when we were getting even remotely romantic (she would be twelve this year). And I'd gotten to where I looked forward to hearing it. And she hardly ever disappointed me. (Thanks, Cork, for all those great exchanges. They meant more than I can put into words). Knowing that she enjoyed the ex-change, I made sure that my response was always the same too.

Later that evening I took Linda to dinner at a suburban restaurant, the Mariemont Inn. We both get a lot of enjoyment from their atmosphere. And she looked like a million bucks. Not to mention the fact that she got her first chance at showing off her new ring. At home with the family she always was a ham. Now, for the first time, something meant enough to her that she was not afraid to bring that feeling into the open. And her excitement from that effort was heightened by the fact that there was no longer any worry about who found out. She could tell the whole world, and she practically did. Any chance she got. It made me feel great to see her that happy after all she'd been through. I was a little embarrassed, yes. And she would embarrass me many, many more times as she became more outgoing. But that night I didn't care. That's how fantastic it made me feel to see her so free.


This work is taken from “A Once In A Lifetime Love: An Autobiography of Two High School Sweethearts”, copyright 2000, as yet unpublished, by the same author.