The Falling Part: "I'm Not Allowed to Yet" (part 1)

Mom reminds me of a funny misconception I once had about dating.  For some reason, I had thought dating meant getting dressed up for the special occasion with your special someone, such as going out to dinner.  Mom was refusing a certain activity that I was requesting, because it was "like a date."  I scoffed and offered my rebuttal, "It's not a date if you're wearing jeans, Mom."  She managed to keep a straight face when she accepted my reasoning, and filed it away to bring up in the future for a good laugh.  (I didn't get to go out that time, jeans or no jeans.)
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In the beloved family film Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, there's a scene where Mike Teavee tells reporters about the awesome guns that he plans to wield as soon as his parents will let him.  His dad leans over during the interview and interjects, "Not until you're twelve, son."  This quote has become a favorite family joke for us.

There were quite a few "grown up" privileges I had to wait for just like Mike.  Mom and Dad cared enough to not always give me what I wanted when I wanted it.

The first privileges I remember having to wait for were "girly girl" things.  I wanted to wear makeup just like my friends at school, wear nylons, shave my legs, and wear super high heels, but Mom and Dad stuck to their guns..."Not until you're twelve," they would say.  Maybe those weren't their exact words, but twelve was certainly a magic number for those privileges.

The biggest and most anticipated magic number for me however, was sixteen.  I knew from the time I was small that this was the age when I would be allowed to begin dating.  What I didn't know was how my parents would choose to define dating.  Over time I learned that age sixteen not only qualified me for dating, but I also had to clear that birthday before I could do anything like a date.

One of the biggest not-allowed-to-because-it's-like-a-date rules that I always protested was getting to ride anywhere alone in a car with my current favorite guy.  

The guy I remember wanting to ride home with the most was actually Sam's older brother, Thad.  Looking back, I can't decide if it's surprising or just natural that I ended up having feelings for both of Rani's older brothers, considering how close Rani and I were. In any case, Thad and I had quite a bit of fun together.  My favorite connection with him was sharing our interest in country music.  We even had a song!  We both loved Randy Travis, and Thad used to sing to me along with Mr. Travis on his cassette, "I'm gonna love you, forever and ever!  Forever and ever, amen."  How sweet is that?

Journal Entry, March 26, 1989:
     Thad and I are both counting down to my 16th birthday.  He wants me to hurry up so he can date me he says.  I wish I could be 16 right now [insert small drawing of a heart with an arrow through it].  1 year and 2 months to go--I wonder, will he still feel the same about me when I get there??  I sure hope so.

The wait until my birthday proved to be a bit too long for Thad and me, but that's okay...there were many other happy relationships to be formed meanwhile.

Of course not all social time with boys was prohibited. At the age of fourteen I was excited to be able to attend church youth conferences and attend dances, and I also enjoyed several band and choir group excursions all throughout high school. This was a great time to practice boy-girl relationship skills. 

Riley was one such teenage boy whom I got to know through these church and school events.  My pre-dating time with Riley was a very happy time.  I loved his naturally curly brown hair, and thought his very lean but strong cross-country-running body was cute.  I loved it when he let me borrow his sweater for the day when we were enjoying a boat ride over Lake Tahoe during a youth conference.  He loved it when I could pop in and say "hi" to him at work at our local drug store, Sprouse Reitz.

Best of all, I treasure the memory of us that was made one evening in a church gym, as we sitting across from each other at a table on the side of a dance floor.  The lights were low, and the dance music was loud, but not so much that one couldn't hear our cheery and hopeful conversations and see our smiling eyes which glittered with evidence of our feelings of mutual adoration. During one brief pause in our conversation, Riley reached across the round table to take a carnation out of the vase to give to me... and in the process he accidentally tipped over the vase, spilling water all over both of our laps and the floor.  OOPS!  As he returned from the bathroom with a large wad of paper towels and swabbed the floor below our chairs, I felt the pain of his embarrassment...but love that I can still remember that sweet gesture.

I never reached dating age before Riley left for college, so we enjoyed exchanging letters while he was there and later during his mission, and in the end remained friends as we followed our separate paths.

to be continued...

The Falling Part: Sneaking Peeks

Disclaimer:  Although I'm trying to keep my true stories as true as my memory permits, I have chosen to use pseudonyms for most of my heroes.  I would hate to embarrass someone by not only revealing an obscure relationship of their past (which they may or may not have known existed), but also by telling the details strictly according to my own memory, which surely would differ from their own version of the story.  So with that disclaimer, we proceed into the next era of my love life: the one where my road to romance had travelers on both sides of the street, moving at least for a short time, in sync.

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One of the most enjoyable games in Cupid's game closet is played at the very beginning of a crush.  I will call it the "Sneaking Peeks" game.  This game can be played at any age, at any stage in life.  I remember first playing it at the age of twelve.  I got to play this game in church one Sunday, when I was relatively new to the state of Nevada. 

I am a Navy brat.  Our family moved around the country quite a bit when I was young.  The most unforgettable transfer came during my sixth-grade year, when we moved from Southern California to Nevada.  The timing of this move came at an age when leaving friends behind meant devastating heartbreak. The pains of transition did soften with time, eventually allowing me to become optimistic about what adventures lay ahead.

 I was the new girl at Minnie P. Blair Middle School.  We had moved part-way into the school year, and that did come with some discomfort.  I'll never forget entering the classroom of the meanest science teacher in the whole world, Mrs. Brant.  Rather than give me an assigned seat next to a soon-to-be new best friend (as we always see in the movies), she told me to "perch" on her stool in the front of the entire class, until she figured out what to do with me.  As she lectured and conducted the class according to routine, and as more and more sixth-grade eyes bore into me, I eventually would slip off of my post in hopes that my new seat would be granted momentarily.  Not so.  "Perch!" she repeated her command, as if trying to train her new pet.  How humiliating.

Fortunately I was soon able to settle in to each of my classes and make new friends.  Mrs. Brant to this day retains the label of "meanest teacher that I ever had, ever" (need I mention she gave out more Ds and Fs than any other teacher in the school and all the parents hated her?),  nevertheless, I warmed up quickly to most all of the other Nevadans that I met.  So it goes without saying that it didn't take me long to find my way comfortably back into my search for the cutest boys in school.

The pages of my journal started filling up with hearts; hearts with arrows through them, hearts filled with names of boys...and hearts containing phrases such as "... is a massive BABE" and special codes such as "TLA" ("true love always") and the like.

Up to this point,  I was still dealing with one-sided fixations.  Until the memorable day at church, when Cupid's Sneaking Peeks game found two new players:  myself, and Sam.

To win the Sneaking Peeks game, all you have to do is play it with another willing party.  Both players automatically win just by entering the competition!  To play, both people take turns sneaking peeks at one another, trying to avoid the other's glance.  The longer you can glance at the other player without getting caught, the more points you get.  The more points you get, the more excited you feel.  When the accidental simultaneous glance occurs, you both lose all of your points, but the good news is, you get to re-start the game as many times as you like, as long as you are in the same room together.  It's very thrilling, and very satisfying, as the mutual attraction builds and crush-emotions are validated.

Sam may not have been as obviously beautiful as Ricky Schroder, but his beauty was in the eye of this beholder.  Like the rest of his family, Sam had blond hair and blue eyes, and due to his farm-type daily chores, his broad shoulders and budding biceps added to his outward appeal. 

As I mentioned, the Sneaking Peeks game took place at church, which meant once again that a common faith played an important role in my feelings for Sam.  What's funny about my associations with Sam, is that in contrast with my crush on David the Mormon--where I knew David at school but not at church--I knew Sam at church but not at school.  Sam and I were the same age, and we were in the same grade, but Sam was home-schooled along with all of his siblings, so we only got to see each other at church meetings and activities, and in their home.

I was privileged to become best friends with Sam's younger sister, Rani, a happy and beautiful soul that has remained my friend even today.  I remember one time being in their kitchen with Rani when Sam came home with his dad and brother from somewhere.  The crush-feelings were alive and well.  Someone made a request for help, to which Sam responded "Not I, said the duck," in a deep pretend voice reminiscent of a character from the children's fable The Little Red Hen, and I began to laugh hysterically.  That incredible sense of humor!  (Isn't it marvelous how having romantic feelings towards someone, somehow makes everything they say seem brilliant?)

Despite the written proof that my feelings with Sam were mutual (it says so, right there in my journal:  "May 26, 1986: ...better yet, he likes me as much as I like him!"), Sam and I did not create many "togetherness" memories.  After all, we were only 12, and my formal dating experiences were not to begin for four more years, according to the standards set by my parents. Nevertheless, the arrow-pierced hearts on pages of my journal are filled with our names as companions for a span of about five months.

Things began to change with one major event: Sam began attending public school at the beginning of seventh grade.  It's understandable that his adjusting to the new social atmosphere included some personality changes for him.  I wasn't surprised to see his immediate popularity, given his good looks and his alluring charisma, but I was surprised at how quickly his associations with me took a turn for the worse.

Little by little, he decided he didn't wish to play any more of Cupid's games with me.  I remember being on a church youth campout once, and Sam was there.  There was also a new girl there; one of my friends had invited a visiting cousin to join us.  I became fast friends with this new girl, and wouldn't you know it, I decided to open my big mouth and disclose whom I thought was the most desirable catch among the young men of our group.  So who decided to pair up affectionately for the remainder of the overnight (yet certainly sufficiently supervised) adventure?  Sam and the new girl.  The traitors.  Hmmm...  It seemed that my first mutual crush was ceasing to be mutual. 

Just as clearly as I remember playing the Sneaking Peeks game with him at the beginning of the Sam chapter of my life, I remember distinctly the moment I lost hope during the Sam chapter.  The tragedy struck right in the hallway of our middle school.

The hallway was mostly void of students.  I was walking in one direction, and he in the other, towards me.  He had one beautiful girl under one arm (who happened to be his cousin), and another beautiful girl under his other arm (one of his cousin's best girlfriends), and as we passed each other, he taunted me by exclaiming, "I like you!"  The three of them laughed loudly and mockingly the rest of the way down the hall.

I was crushed.  But more importantly, the time was ripe, and I was ready to move on.

Journal Entry, September 22, 1986:
I've had it with Sam.  Now that he is going to school again, all of his popularity has gone to his head.  It's too bad a guy with that kind of face can be such a jerk.  I need someone to love.  But there just isn't anyone my age.  Ben Martinson is pretty good but there's just no spark.

The nice thing is, this story has a somewhat happy ending.  Sam did not stay in public school long enough to perpetuate my cast-aside misery.  He actually returned to his home-study program after a few short months, where he was able to regain his original untainted respectable personality.  My feelings for him resurfaced from time to time, but we were actually able to remain good friends from then on, as the perceived romantic ties were a thing of the past.

Ah, Sam.  It was fun while it lasted.

Boise Trip Highlights

I was more than excited to finally get to meet my newest Elkins-family niece!  I was glad to catch some holding time before she hit 1 year old, though I would have loved to have met her sooner.  She was so great--she was friendly to me the moment I walked into her home!  I fell in love with her immediately (oh wait, I was already in love with her, just from seeing her photos the past year).  I hope to hold her again soon!  She has the sweetest personality.

Both my niece and nephew here were so much fun to be around.  I love how everyone in our family keeps ending up with the greatest kids in the world : ).

I got to spend a fun afternoon with these two nieces, just the three of us.  They have great personalities too!  I love feeling like I'm "buddies" with them, even though we don't get to see each other often.

Here we are enjoying the guys' softball game...I was so glad to finally get to attend one of these fun games that I always heard about.  Our team is made up almost exclusively of my brothers, cousins, and uncles.  So it was really fun to cheer for them!  (I'm not sure why, but I often felt like I was the only one screaming and shouting for the team...but as an outsider, I guess I just don't know how things are done there...)

My beautiful sisters-in-law and those 2 great kids again...what I wouldn't give to get to hang out with them all the time!!!

Some of the team and some of the fans--all members of my family : ).  I was so glad that even Grandma was able to be there for a quick visit!

The guy on the right is the only non-family member, though he is a friend of the family, and is currently helping my parents to relocate from Nevada to Boise!  (Lucky them!)

I just love this picture.  And...you gotta love their pants.

3 amigos

Staying with my brother Clark's family was a FABULOUS time for me.  I would love to do it every year!

See what I mean?  Buddies. : )

On my way home, I lucked out with a 2 1/2 hour layover in Salt Lake City, so I got to see the rest of my siblings there!!  We had a fun visit.  I think one of the highlights was introducing Bryan to Kid History.  He was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.  I loved seeing Angela's little baby bump, and Ellis was cool to bring some of his awesome sketchbooks to share with me (he's a talented artist).  But best of all, I loved the HUGS.

I didn't get to see all of the little Utah nephews (I don't have any Utah nieces yet on my side of the family), but it was exciting to see this guy, my oldest Utah nephew!  He had a fancy moonwalk and MJ impression to show off (this is the Thriller pose).  Cute boy!

I LOVED my trip!  I was happy to come home when it was time though.  As much as I love everyone in these pictures, I love the family in my own home even more.  Thank heavens for breaks, but I belong with these guys over here in PA ; ).

The Falling Part: David the Mormon

Journal Entry, 16 November 1985: 

There is a boy in the classroom next to mine at school that is really cute.  His name is David.  He has red hair, freckles, he is tall, and he is Morman!  I was suprised when I found out he was a Morman although he had the personality of a Morman.             Jenny -n- David
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"You're a Mormon?!" I responded with astonishment to my new sixth-grade friend.  I had no idea there were other kids who shared my faith at school.  In my hometown of Fallbrook, California, Mormon friends seemed few and far-between, and seemed to only be found at our meetings on Sundays. 

We were playing a casual game of Four Square on the playground during recess at La Paloma Elementary school, when this discovery created a spark and started the wheels in my head a-turning. 

As if his red hair and freckles (which incidentally resembled my own) weren't enough to turn my attention into affection, his announcement of sharing my faith was the clincher.

You see, at an early age my faith became very central to who I was becoming as a young person.  My parents were both active members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, also known as the Mormon Church, and together they did all that they could to share the blessings of membership with their children.  And I couldn't have been happier with this religious upbringing.

Knowing another Mormon friend could mean having common goals, common interests, and common experiences.  Each Sunday I looked forward to learning about Jesus and his gospel and all that his plan of happiness presented for my life.  I especially enjoyed the 2 hours spent with the other Primary children ages 12 and under where we had activities, lessons, and sang song after song.  Indeed, I found singing and the gospel to be one of my most favorite combinations (and even into my adulthood, I still feel the same way).

Although I knew of very few other Mormons at my school, if any, there did happen to be enough of them in our city of Fallbrook to form more than one congregation, which may explain why I had never seen David at church. 

David didn't seem to care much about the connection.  Oh well.  That didn't stop me from imagining our future together!  Not only could I envision being his girlfriend from now on (unbeknownst to him, that is...and I was willing to wait until he came around to the idea), but someday I could even be his wife.

What?!  How many nine-year-old girls are there who are having dreams about marriage already?  Well, I was one of those. 

It turns out, I have such a limited memory of young David outside of that day when I found out he was a Mormon, that it's clear he never came around to the idea of spending eternity with me.  Overall, I didn't spend too much time falling for David beyond the playground-time conversations, with one exception.

The final memory I have of my togetherness with David the Mormon is that we got to share a scene in our school play together.  He was Ebenezer Scrooge, and I was the Ghost of Christmas Past.

"Do you recollect the way?" was the line that I tenderly spoke to him on the stage, in front of all of our proud parents.

It's funny to think now that the terms "recollect" and "the little red-haired girl Jenny" from his sixth-grade year are two things that most likely do not go hand in hand for David.

The Falling Part: Ricky Schroder

My first encounter with the actual falling part of love did not happen as much in isolation as did the classroom love-note incident.   But like that initiation experience, this next step towards love did begin in school, just the same.  

"Ricky Schroder?  Who's he?" I asked my girlfriends at the elementary school. 

He was to be the love of my life for the next few years, that's who. 

I was eight, he was thirteen, and he was the new young heart throb acting the part of Rick Stratton on the  evening TV series Silver Spoons.  My girlfriends at school introduced me to him (or to the show, that is)... and as soon as I managed to find the right channel and the right program, it was love at first sight.

I'll admit I started falling for him partly because my friends had fallen first, but there was no need to ask me twice if he was everything I had hoped he would be.

There was no one else on earth as dreamy as Ricky!  His silky blond hair, his glowing smile, his puppy dog eyes... his charm, his talent... even my parents could see it.  I mean, they fully supported me in this crush.  I remember the night Dad let us interrupt our family goings-on in the living room one night so we could turn the TV on as he announced to the rest in the room, "We need to let Jenny get her Ricky fix."

And he's one who just got better and better looking with every new teen magazine article and clipping that I could find.  It wasn't long before I had a collage of his photos on my wall.  

To say that my parents backed me up on this crush was a happy boost, but unfortunately I can't say the same for the rest of my family.

Truthfully, my older brother Bryan probably couldn't have cared less, and my younger four siblings probably could have left it all alone...except for that one fateful day when my four-year-old brother Russell took action, against his better judgement.

Was he mad at me?  Was he jealous that this rich and famous blond celebrity took photographic precedence on my wall, over himself--my equally adorable blond little brother?  Was he bored and seeking my emotional breakdown strictly for entertainment?  No one knows, but Mom definitely disciplined him for the dreadful deed:  he had put lipstick on Ricky's face, on one of my favorite wall hangings.  It was just a tiny bit, on Ricky's lips.  But sadly it was ruined, and I was in tears.  

Eventually my heart healed from this catastrophe, and further down the road, Ricky's place in my heart was no longer fully encompassing.  His pictures came down one by one, or so I suppose...I don't actually remember getting rid of those photos.  Why didn't I save such sentimental keepsakes?  Perhaps it was only to make room for my next celebrity crush a few years later...or rather, I should say my first music group crush.  But before the new posters came up (of New Kids on the Block, in case you were wondering), I'm glad to report that I did manage to make room in my heart for a couple of real-life people.

The Falling Part: Prologue

Did you know that I'm writing a book?  I am!  I'm so excited about attempting a new kind of creative project that I've never done before.  I have so many talented author friends that inspire me, and I feel eager to try my hand at what they enjoy so much.  I wanted to share with you a little bit of what I've written so far.  Any feedback is welcome : )!

It may be unusual to choose a book's title so early on in the game, but I've already chosen my title:

The Falling Part.

Here goes! (P.S.  The stories in my book are actual true memories from my grand and glorious love life, starting with my very first love-memory.  I hope you enjoy it!)

Prologue

"The funny thing about falling in love, is the falling part.  It's not quite the same as landing in love, or being in love.  Every inch forward is an unfamiliar one, and if you're lucky enough to fall more than once, you'll realize that you land in a completely different place every time."

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The setting is fuzzy, but the feelings and the main event are very clear in my bank full of falling-in-love memories.

The room must have been about the same as anyone else's public first grade classroom: there were probably 20 desks, filled with boys and girls who were busy practicing their writing or coloring skills, and we were getting awfully good at staying in our seats and minding our teacher when she required our focus and attention.

But this moment was different for me.  I was not focusing on the assignment at hand; I had a more important matter to address.

There was a feeling being born in me.  I had an idea of what to do with it, and the time had come for me to entertain ideas such as this one.

My idea?  What to do with this new feeling?  I would write a love note.  Yes, that's what people do when they have this feeling!

Was I feeling love?  Certainly not.  But I was feeling a first-grader's version of curiosity about love, and I was ready to embark on my journey.

So I wrote in my little six-year-old handwriting, "I love you," and I looked around the room to see who the lucky recipient would be.  I hadn't determined that in advance, so it took me a minute or so to decide.

Then I spotted him, sitting across the room.  I waited until everyone was distracted with whatever it was that I probably should have been working on, and I sneaked over to his desk and handed it to him.

I don't remember his name, I don't even remember his face.  I do remember though that he never became my boyfriend, and we didn't end up living happily ever after.  In fact, I think that after he read my note he gave me a look of bewilderment, and he might have even wondered if I was a couple of crayons short of a rainbow.  But that didn't matter.

What mattered was that I had broken new ground.  I had begun my expedition, and I was about to enjoy this wild and crazy roller coaster ride that would take me far into my college years.

I was about to become an expert at falling in love.