Chapter 11: Anderson Becomes A Memory

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Anderson Becomes A Memory

         As always, the performances for the musical took place near the end of March. We didn’t go to her cast party. (Though I just recently remembered that. I’d never really thought about it since then, I guess; that is, until now. I don’t even remember whether or not we talked about it; only that we didn’t go. I have to believe that after the way we’d been snubbed at last year’s party she may have simply decided that she wanted the time alone with me in-stead and may have just never mentioned it for that reason.)
         The new-found freedom, for both of us, of no more adolescent inhibitions and no worries about who knows we're in love, coupled with the outward display of that freedom through the ring she now wore, brought me a new problem; but, like all our problems now, one I loved to contend with. The problem? She wanted that big wedding, I wanted to see her walk down that aisle (I could easily imagine how she'd look in that dress!), and she wanted that wedding for her mother. And I didn't want to wait those remaining two years. My diary entry for Tuesday, April 18, 1967, exactly one month after her birthday read, in part:

         Can't stand to wait any longer. Must marry her before this year is over. Must make her mine before then. I have to have her by my side as my wife."

         A little repetitive, granted. But it couldn't be more direct. That's how I felt. But at the same time, I loved her so much that I didn't want to pressure her into anything, much less disappoint her by taking away that big wedding. Within that conflict lay my problem. I resolved to hold on to our love, and bend over backwards to hold out those two years:
         "Lord, You know how we each feel. Back at Judy's parents’ house, when she offered herself to me, she was pleading, but without words. And I froze. Now the shoe's on the other foot, Father. I can't handle this one alone. So I'm asking Your help. I ask it in the name of Thy Son, Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. Amen."
         Another problem, though much less important, was transportation. Dad had let me use "my" car at certain times since I moved out, but not on a daily basis. That made it quite inconvenient on occasion. Like two busses to see Linda (I had to transfer). Another part of that April 18, 1967 diary entry read:
         "Have to get dad to get a loan from the bank to get a Honda [motorcycle]. Need some way to get around and I can't keep the car."
         Now any halfway intelligent kid can see that if dad would go along with financing the Honda for me he might as well save the interest charge and just let me keep the car.
         And, by the same token, anyone, of any age, as head over heels in love as I was will give you the same logic I used when I wrote that.
         With my working day shift we spent every Friday, Saturday and Sunday together. And, like any other "romantically involved" couple, we'd found our favorite restaurant. Yes, we had said Frisch's was "our place". But that's for spur-of-the-moment splurges or eating on the run. A fast food joint. This place was (to use an old line) “for a real date". A planned "evening on the town" type of thing. Every Saturday night we ate dinner at the Kon-Tiki, in the Sheraton-Gibson Hotel. Our weekends weren't OUR weekends without this special touch, complete with its Polynesian atmosphere. How serious were we about this "special touch"? I always called in the reservation just to be sure we weren't disappointed, but it didn't take long before we noticed the "little things". Like they stopped checking the book to confirm our reservation when they saw us coming. We were always greeted by name (it wasn't long before all the full-time waitresses and the head waiter knew us on an almost "personal" level). If it was available we always got our favorite table, under the "star-lit" sky, near the waterfall. And obviously, as we left it was "see you next week" that we heard behind us. Linda loved the recognition. With everything she’d endured before then, she thrived on the fact that she was actually being treated with respect; appreciated for the person she was.
         (In the almost three years we went there, I don't think we missed more than 3 Saturdays. And I have to believe that those were unintentional. The Sheraton-Gibson is gone, now. Torn down about 1976 for a hotel-office tower complex. And they had to add insult to injury. They put the new Westin hotel right on the site of the Gibson. At the liquidation sale of the Gibson’s contents, though, we did pick up two of the marble lamps from that Bridal Suite. I still have them, and they still work.
         Shortly after the Kon-Tiki closed (within 6 months of that time), I ran into the head waiter on the bus. Linda and I were both glad to find out that he had found another job as head waiter that he enjoyed. (He had told me where he was working, but on the budget Linda and I had at the time we couldn’t eat out much, and, though I thought at the time it would never happen, I later forgot the name of the restaurant he had mentioned. JAW 10/25/99)
         About the time we began visiting the Kon-Tiki I discovered Linda's great love for long-stemmed red roses. Therefore, at least twice a month, and usually every week, I presented her with a dozen. She never tired of them or the meaning behind them, and I never in the least tired of seeing the love in her eyes each time she spied the latest offering. (So emblematic were the roses of our deep love that I placed a dozen at her grave both on her birthday and on our wedding anniversary the year she died). (And I've done so many times since then. JAW 9/1/03)
         As May approached I got caught up in another one of her typical shopping sprees - she still had to buy her dress for the Prom. So much for April 29, and May 6, 1967. But the end result of those trips would be well worth waiting for. She found the pattern and the material she wanted, and my aunt Cindy would make the dress the next week. I'd seen the pattern; and I could hardly wait to see her in that full length, white strapless with the full skirt she loved so much.
         On my own home front, my culinary efforts left a great deal to be desired. Hamburgers were no problem. As a matter of fact, I now was able to fix them the way I liked them best. It sometimes took a little longer than a girl might take, but I could get them done to a turn by applying added time rather than increased temperature to the project.
         Pancakes, on the other hand (either hand, actually), were a whole different ball game. And my team lost handily every time. They were a total disaster both times I made the at-tempt, the latest being on Thursday, May 11. "Maybe I'll be able to arrange for Linda to come over here and teach me how," I thought as I dumped the batter. She said her mother had started teaching her in earnest about cooking when time permitted. "It's times like this that make it even harder to wait those two years. If we were married now I wouldn't be making such a mess out of cleaning this spilled batter up off the floor. She could probably do it in half the time, and a lot neater to boot!! Not to mention all the other great things I'd love to have for supper, but either don't know how to fix or don't have the time to do it and still get everything else done. Like sweeping the floor. Two rooms aren't worth the expense, on my budget, of a vacuum cleaner. But the old broom-and-dustpan bit takes forever!! And men are always saying that their wives have such an easy time of it spending all day at home, housework's a breeze, so what are they beefing about, and all that! Try changing places with the 'little lady' sometime, fellas!"
         Also by mid-May I had purchased Linda's graduation present - an antique reed organ, made in 1905, still in operating condition. It cost me "every bit" of $135.00. My diary entry for that Thursday, May 11, 1967, picks up with that thought, and concludes by proposing a rather unorthodox solution to an important upcoming transportation problem:

         ".....I will pay it off at about $5.00 a week. I hope she likes it as well as I do. I have to use a cab for the Prom, Theatre Party and Boatride - no car - mom and dad took it back some time ago.
         I've ridden the bus for about a month now. I love Linda as much as ever, and look forward to every time we're together."

         The week of the Prom arrived and brought with it, for me, terrific anticipation. I simply couldn't wait to see her in that strapless formal. As the Big Day approached I occasionally found myself trying to figure out how, with the least embarrassment for both of us, I was going to pin her corsage on that dress. Talk about lovesick! Somebody had to point out to me that I could get a wrist corsage! Oh, brother!!
         The biggest day of her Senior year finally arrived, bringing with it a minor "revela-tion" for me - this year my tux pants actually fit! When I got to her house (by bus, how else?), I knocked as usual. In a few moments, dad opened the door.
         "Hi, Jim. come on in. She'll be down in a minute."
         "Thanks, dad." He went to the staircase as I entered.
         "Lin, Jim's here!" he called.
         "Tell him I'll be right down."
         "What's she doing up there anyway?" I chuckled.
         "Who knows??" dad asked rhetorically. "All I know is that I've never seen her happier, or working harder to make everything just right. Which reminds me." He reached into his pocket and handed me a set of keys. "Here, Jim. Use the Olds."
         He never said if it did, but I thought I felt my mouth drop open. "Thanks, dad! I sure appreciate it! And don't worry. I'll be careful," I said, totally surprised and elated at the same time. "Wow! Some taxi," I thought. "Linda won't believe it!” I hadn't told her how we were going to get there for the dance, let alone the Theatre Party.
         "Don't mention it," he said warmly. As he finished we heard "Hi, sweetheart."
         I turned around, faced the steps, and stopped dead in my tracks. She saw the look on my face, smiled broadly, and slowly, almost regally, descended the stairs. I managed to reach the foot of those stairs without tripping over anything, including my own feet. How I'll never know. I know only that I did it without taking my eyes off her.

         She now stood right in front of me. My mouth must have been open a mile; it just wouldn't work. I finally managed to remember how to use it, but it seemed to take a terrific amount of time and effort.
         "Helllllooooo, Gorgeous!!!!!" I'd never seen a bigger smile on her face than I did at that moment. If my eyes popped out any more I'd have to pick 'em up off the floor.
         "You like it, huh?"
         "Is she teasing me with that question or what??!" I chuckled to myself. “Like it, sweetheart?? I LOVE it!!" I sang. "You look absolutely beautiful!!! I just can't find the words to say how fantastic you look tonight," I said, still taking in every inch of that beauty as I spoke.
         "Thank you, honey. I was hoping you'd really like it."
         "I couldn't ask for more, darling."
         "I'd kiss you, but......"
         "I know, honey. Don't worry about it. I wouldn't want anything to mess up that picture-perfect face of yours either." Back came that big, broad smile. If she was blushing I couldn't tell it.
         "Jim, are you going to give her the corsage or are you just going to stand there?" dad asked, obviously enjoying the situation almost as much as we were.
         "Wow! Thanks, dad!" I reached over and picked it up from the table I'd put it on as I entered. "Sweetheart, this is for you," I said lovingly.
         With obvious anticipation and wide open eyes she slowly, carefully unwrapped the box and opened it. As she pulled back the tissue paper I watched her face fill with joy as she spotted the white and yellow carnations.
         "Oh, Jim!! It's beautiful!! I love it!" she stammered as the tears started building.
         "It's not like a dozen roses, but......"
         "Oh, Jim, it's just as beautiful, though!" she wailed. She handed it to me and I put it on her wrist.
         When it got close enough to time to leave, she thought of it.
         "Jim, how are we going to get there?"
         "I held up the keys, watching her face intently. "The Olds."
         She looked at her dad. Gratitude was all over her face. "Thanks, dad." The look on his face told her she need say no more.
         A few minutes later, her dad and I both took pictures of her before we went to The Prom. I knew we were getting the professional photo taken at the school, but I couldn’t wait to capture the beauty I beheld before me.

         We arrived at the school almost right at 9:00. Maybe a minute or two early. No way I was going to take even one minute of this night away from her, even by arriving late. After the customary picture was taken (I was never more eager to get my picture taken than I was that night), we entered the cafeteria, again lavishly theme-decorated.
         The whole night belonged to her and she ate up every minute of it. Every eye in the place was on her. And she loved it! Not just because that ring had brought the "ham" in her out of hiding, but now, all those kids who had made every effort to ignore her all those years suddenly found themselves unable to do so any longer; found themselves in a situation where ignoring her was impossible. She was the only girl there in a strapless. Lots of "spaghetti straps", but she wore the only strapless. The guys couldn't take their eyes off her, and the girls had to find out what their guys were so wrapped up in looking at.
         I was a good bit embarrassed by all the attention, and a bit nervous for about the first half hour or so, waiting for some school official "chaperone" to ask her to cover up a little. (We had some doubt, originally, if the strapless would be permitted, but she elected to take that chance). Like I said, I was definitely embarrassed, but this particular night I cared less about it than I had the night I gave her the ring. Why? Even if we hadn't danced one dance, this was undoubtedly the most important night of her life to that time. For, after ten years of almost total rejection by classmates, look who had the last laugh!!! She had girls asking her, before the night was over, if she made it, where she got the pattern, and how much material it took. And we both knew the guys were noticing how much material it DIDN'T take. She ate up the whole thing all night, and I have to admit that I liked that last part. I was getting a big kick out of sharing that "last laugh" with her; my being beside her said, "Hey, guys, see what you missed when you let this one get away??"
         Her note to me, on the last page of the placecard booklet from her place at the table, read, “To my loving, adorable fiance, who thinks of everything, no matter how long it may take. Love, Lin.” I’m still trying to remember what she meant by that… smile.
         Again, just like last year, 1:00 A.M. came all too soon. But then again, she would have joyfully gone on all night if they'd let her. The big ham! Regretfully, we left that Prom behind us, as we had mine, to become only a memory. But this one was more final. There would be none, for us, next year.
         The ride back to her parents, to change clothes for the Theatre Party, was a time of solemn and serious reflection. We just couldn't accept anything that final. But we had to. There would indeed be no Prom next year, for us.
         When we reached the house however, her mood changed completely. Now she had someone to talk to and tell them about the whole evening. When we entered, mom and Cork gathered around her so fast and whisked her off upstairs to change (and find out all about tonight, no doubt), that I didn't even get a last look at her in that dress. (After her death, I would remember that incident as I discarded her clothes, and would wish again that I'd gotten that "last look". Ironically, she was not to wear the dress again.)
         A few minutes later, when we'd both changed, we said goodbye to her family and set off for the Mariemont Theatre. I was so wrapped up in her, and in memories of how she’d looked in that strapless just minutes earlier, that I never did remember the movie that night. Not a chance. I was just too much in love.
         Next thing we knew, her high school days were coming to a close. The last two weeks of school came and went. Senior Class Day. She told me later that everything went true to form. Water pistols, cut-offs and tee shirts, practical jokes, Skit and all. That they didn't miss a thing. That really made me feel good. I had wanted her senior year to be as nutty in the end as mine had been. Remember me? The "sentimental old fool"? After all those years of ridicule, name calling and loneliness, I wanted her to at least finish her memories of high school on a happy note. And between the Prom and Senior Class Day I couldn't have asked for more. But I got more. A lot more. Where? From HER last issue of the Chieftain.
         When I wrote that letter to the radio station that resulted in that "Good Gal of the Day" commendation the January before, I included the fact that whenever she could she bent over backwards to help others. That regardless of how she'd been treated, she had a heart that was always open to others if they gave her a chance. Her "Last Will and Testament" in the Chieftain read, “I, Linda Hart, do hereby will and bequeath to Margaret Boyd my seat in orchestra and the en-joyment I have had there.”
         Margaret Boyd was the junior who had been given the 1st violin ensemble position.
         And I had to admire the Prophesy writers for their originality(?). Her Prophesy read, “Linda Hart will become ‘Wee Willie’s” wife.”
         At the time that was written she'd been wearing the ring for almost three months.
         Naturally we were spending the evenings together during those last weeks of school. The evening she brought home the copy of the Chieftain and showed it to me, she also handed me her yearbook. It didn’t take long to notice that no one else had signed it yet. I made a point of putting my thoughts where they couldn’t possibly be missed: on the first page inside the front cover, right in the center: “To the most unpredictable female on this wild earth. You’re just warm, lovable, witty and wonderful. Oh – and CRAZY – but I love you all the more for it. Your uncoordinated fiance, Jim. P.S. I love you.”
         Cork’s entry, in the top right corner of that same page, read, “To an adorable, lovable sister that I shall love the rest of my life. You complain but I like it. Love to a crazy sister, Cork.”
         She never told me whether or not her Baccalaureate meant as much to her as mine did to me. But with the relationship we had, with each other and the Lord, I can't help but feel that it did. And our relationship with Him had only begun.
         The evening of her commencement, her father and I each took photos of her in her cap and gown before she and I headed to the school. Her father also took a photo of the two of us together before she and I left for the school that evening.
         Her Commencement Exercise at least was dry. No water through the skylights this year (no rain though, either).
         And the Boatride. Just like last year, we spent the entire time on the upper deck, undisturbed (shades of the past....), admiring the view and enjoying the breeze. Unlike last year, we both contributed to the conversation. We took full advantage of the opportunity to probe each other's thoughts on planning our marriage. Things like:
         "Okay, now. What kind of house do you want, Squeek?"
         "For years I've dreamed of a big Southern-style mansion. With those big columns in the front and a fancy garden in the front yard. Only I always figured it would be just a dream. And then you came along....." Her voice trailed off as she laid her head on my shoulder.
         I swallowed hard, feeling every bit of the love and affection she meant to convey. "Well, I hope you're not really figuring on that being our first house! Not on the budget we're gonna have!" I said smiling, as I looked into those big, brown eyes.
         "No, I know," she said, just a trifle (but humorously) embarrassed at my response. "I'll settle for second," she chuckled.
         "Uh-huh. Thought so," I said laughing.
         "Welllllllll... "
         "Okay, now we've got the house. What about a family?" I saw her face take on a more thoughtful pose.
         "Well, I've always loved kids, but I haven't decided exactly how many I'd like to have. All I know is, I'd kinda...like the first one to be...a girl."
         She looked at me for a reaction, afraid (I think) I would be upset that she didn't want the first one to be a boy, and that the decision over preference might be a problem. "I'd kinda like the first one to be a girl, too." Her mouth dropped open and she looked at me with a combination of relief, love and sheer amazement.
         "How come??" she asked.
         "Well, I want a son eventually," I said, "but it's beautiful to watch a little girl grow into womanhood; and besides, girls are notoriously better behaved than boys, as babies, and I think it would be easier to 'get our feet wet' as parents if our first experience was with a girl."
         "I love you!" she said, kissing me with everything she felt.
         "So where do you want to live?"
         "I'd like to stay in Cincinnati," she said without hesitation. "And hopefully, Anderson Township. I like it out here. I like the open air and the sense of freedom. You wouldn't mind, would you?"
         "No, as a matter of fact that's exactly how I feel about it," I said, watching her face broaden into her classic ear-to-ear grin.
         "You're not just saying that for my sake, are you?"
         "We promised never to lie - remember?"
         "Thanks, honey. I love you."
         I let us both enjoy the romance of that moment, then I began again. "Okay, next step. What kind of car do you think we should get?"
         "A Cadillac." Definitely no hesitation there, either.
         “What?? No ROLLS??" I asked smiling.
         “I just figured we couldn't afford THAT." She smiled.
         "Oh, but we'd be able to afford a Cadillac, huh?" Now I was smiling, loving every second of the exchange.
         "Sure, why not?" With that we both broke up in laughter.
         When things settled down, I added, "Only thing is, I was kinda hoping for a Mer-cedes."
         "So? You drive your Mercedes, and I'll drive my Cadillac." I shivered. "When the doctor says I can drive. And I'll be very careful," she quickly added reassuringly. She hugged me. "I know the possibility of my driving worries you, Jim, and I love you for your concern. But my problem is I'm no different from any other teenager. I want to drive, too. And I'm already 18. Can you understand?" Her voice, for that thought, held a unique combination of love and determination. But mostly love, and a deep desire to be understood.
         "Yes, darling, I understand. I know how much that time in my life meant to me. I know how you feel. I'll be wary of it for quite a while, but if the opportunity comes I won't stand in your way."
         "Thank you, sweetheart. Hearing you say that makes me feel better about all of it, es-pecially having to wait for now. Hey! Would you be willing to teach me how to drive when the time comes?"
         She asked that one a little nervously. "Honey, I'd love to. As a matter of fact, I think I'd feel better about the whole thing myself if we did it that way."
         "That's just one MORE thing I'll be learning from you, Teacher!" She smiled broadly and kissed me.
         With that we went back to enjoying the view from that upper deck, each thinking our own thoughts about that just completed conversation, and about our future.

         A few minutes before the cruise ended, she broke the silence. Her tone was serious, but not worried or frightened.
         "Jim, I'd like to know how you'd feel about something."
         "What is it, honey?" I asked, concerned.
         "How would you feel if I said I wanted to breast-feed our children?"
         She watched my face intently. I hugged her. "I love the idea, honey. I was hoping you'd feel that way, only I wasn't sure how to bring up the idea myself to find out," I admitted. "But I'm curious. How come you feel that way? Not many women seem to, anymore."
         "It's hard to explain, love. It's just the way I feel about babies and being a mother. It just seems more natural to me than those formulas and everything. I even want to use cloth diapers instead of those disposable things."
         I could see the mound of diapers in front of the washer. "But that's a lot of hard work, honey. You don't think you'll get tired of doing it that way, do you? But I have to admit I like that idea, too."
         "No, Jim, I won't get tired of it. You've seen how our nieces and nephew take to me, haven't you? I eat it up. I love to be around kids. And I love the way they all take to me, fam-ily or not. And I just feel I can do a better job doing it the old fashioned way."
         I had a sudden thought that I felt should be resolved before we got serious about a family. "Lin, I love the idea that you want to do all these things the old way, but there's still one question where the kids are concerned that I think we should talk about." She noted the "serious" tone in my voice.
         "What is it, Jim?"
         "Have you considered the possibility that one or more of our kids could become an epileptic? I know it's not hereditary, but that doesn't mean it can't happen."
         "Yes, I've thought about that for a long time, Jim. In the dreams I used to have about getting married. Long before I met you. And I'm willing to take that chance. That's how bad I want a family." She looked at me, a little worried now. "It...doesn't bother you, does it?"
         "No, sweetheart. You've got it and I still love you; more than ever, as a matter of fact. If our kids do get it, they'll just need that much more love and understanding, that's all. And I've felt for a long time that where kids are concerned you've got enough love in your heart to go on forever. No, Lin, the prospect of them having it doesn't worry me at all. Our having a family, regardless, is the important thing. Believe me?"
         "Yes, Jim, I believe you." She smiled warmly and gave me a deep kiss of affection. When our lips parted and we looked back out over the railing toward the Cincinnati skyline, the Public Landing came into view.
         As we drove to the school for the traditional senior breakfast, we spoke hardly a word. She sat in the center of the seat, her head on my shoulder, dreaming of that future together and how things might be, considering the decisions we'd reached that night. As we pulled into a parking space though, she dropped a bomb:
         "Jim, if you ever love me any less than you do right now, please don't hesitate to tell me...okay?"
         "Where did you ever get such an idea, honey?"
         "I don't know, really. It just now came to mind."
         She sounded worried. "Now you just forget about that ever happening, Linda Hart!!" I said, firmly but smiling. "I love you very much, and nothing will ever change that. Now you get that silly notion out of your pretty little head. And that's an order!" I smiled.
         “Yes, SIR!" she said, relieved, her old sense of humor returning. We entered the building and headed for the cafeteria.

         After that night that seemed so long ago, even though it had been only four days short of three months earlier, that night in the woods when we broke through the last of our teenage inhibitions, it had rapidly become apparent that she could not get enough of our physical relationship. And tonight was no exception. We'd just started home after the breakfast.
         "Jim, can we park somewhere for a little bit?"
         "Sure, sweetheart." I thought, "I figured she'd be too tired to do anything! But I'm not knocking it!" I found the same spot we'd used that first night, pulled over and shut off the en-gine. Soon she lay on the seat, her head in my lap, with nothing on above the waist. We'd been sitting there about ten minutes when a deputy sheriff's car pulled up across the street from us on the other shoulder of the road.
         "Lin, there's a sheriff's car over there," I said. She started to get up and over into her own seat. "Stay down, Lin!" I ordered. "He doesn't even know you're here. But he'll know a lot more than that if you sit up now!" She slid over to her side, staying below window level, and began getting dressed. I turned the key and stopped just before it caught. "Maybe I can make it look like I'd been having car trouble," I thought nervously. After three "unsuccessful attempts", I started the car and turned on the lights. As I pulled away, the deputy continued on his rounds in the other direction. As soon as I was sure he hadn't turned around and followed us, I tipped off Linda and she sat up. We headed home.
         "I'm sorry we got cut short tonight, honey," I said as I walked her up to her door a few minutes later. "And I have to admit I was wondering if we were going to get out of there that easy."
         "Yeah, that was kind of exciting, wasn't it?" She shivered at the recollection. "I'm not disappointed, Jim. All that excitement made it worthwhile." She thought to herself, "I wonder if that feeling of excitement is what the other girls feel, or if they get scared?"
         “I'm glad YOU enjoyed it," I said laughing. "I was a nervous wreck trying to figure a way out of there."
         She batted those big, brown eyes at me, snuggled up real close, and said seductively, "But wasn't I worth the risk?"
         I melted. "Dog gonnit, Lin! You know I can't stand my ground when you bat those eyes at me! You little minx!" I grinned and kissed her.
         "Awwwww......." she said, really rubbing it in now.
         I smiled and affectionately stuck my tongue out at her: “ennnnhhhhhh... " She "re-turned the compliment", then we entered the house. It had already been arranged that I would spend the night there, in their spare room, because of the late hour we'd be getting in. The idea occurred to both of us how great it would be to share her room, even though we had no plans to "go all the way". Just being together would be enough. But, we also knew even her parents would never buy that one. One last kiss and we parted for the night.

         I was to find out, later, how very much her number of friends had changed since we’d become engaged. Obviously wearing my ring had forced the others to begin rethinking their treatment of her and give her more respect, because the ring made it obvious that there was at least one person willing to treat her as an equal, and even be willing to love her, even marry her, even with the epilepsy. What I hadn’t known was that she’d started getting that respect last year, my senior year, after we’d become “verbally” engaged, even though she had no ring she could openly show off. I guess I’d forgotten about the “student grapevine”. Nice to know that the “grapevine” that had originally resulted in spreading the word about her being an epileptic, and resulting in that awful nickname of “Roach” had ultimately contributed a great deal to her gaining respectability. And the attention I paid her at the time probably helped confirm her statements to the other students about her truly being engaged. Whatever the chain of events, I was more than rewarded to find out how soon after our engagement she had begun to receive their respect. The inside front and back covers of her junior yearbook are covered with notes from the friends she’d made since I proposed the night of my senior prom the year before. Many of those notes from other students, were from those in the classes before and after hers. She’d definitely begun receiving their respect by the time she graduated. Many already assume that we will be married, and it showed in what they wrote. She’d been wearing the ring for three months at this point, and one entry already refers to her as my wife. I’d always known that I made a difference in her life, but to see what her simply being engaged, and later wearing the ring to prove it had done for her respectability during the last quarter of her senior year really warmed my heart.

         We were part of the famous "baby boom". As our generation grew up, schools nationwide felt the pinch of declining enrollment. About 1981, the Forest Hills School District closed the Anderson Elementary and Junior High. Now, they are literally just a memory. There've been rumors that the property would be sold. I hope not. Only now do we have kids of our own. A "mini baby boom". I hope they are reopened.
         The Anderson Senior High School is alive and well. I hope it's there for my children to attend. If that time ever comes; kids, that is. I'd really like that. (J.A.W. 9/9/84)

         (The elementary and “middle” (what we knew as Junior High) schools were torn down about 1994 after the property was sold for a Kroger Store. My father, who worked for the county at the time and had been the one reviewing any proposed architectural plans prior to a building permit being issued to renovate the buildings for other uses, told me it wasn’t that no one had any ideas; he’d received a number of proposals. It was the fact that no one wanted to put the amount of money necessary into the buildings to bring them up to the current fire and safety codes. In short, it just cost too much in code-required renovation for those making the proposals to feel they were worth the expense. The high school, however, is thriving and just received all new windows. There’s still hope for my kids…. JAW 8/21/99)