The Falling Part: Sixteen and Dating

Journal Entry, 18 May 1990:

I had such a fun birthday today.  I'm 16!  Yesterday in my Calculus class (the one that I'm secretary for), Mrs. Busboom brought cookies for my b-day (a day early 'cause I wouldn't be in school the next day) and they sang happy birthday to me--real loud so 5 other classes could hear just to tease me--so the one across the hall with a few of my friends in it came over and sang to me too.  It was funny.  
     This morning our choir sang at a festival at UNR (University Nevada Reno), so we missed school all day.  
     I had my first date when I got home, with Dad.  He took me to Stockman's for dinner, it was really nice.  We were going to go to Reno for our date, but I didn't feel like it, 'cause that's where I just got back from.  I wore a pretty white rose corsage that he gave me. Then we had my family party at home when Dad and I got back.

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It finally arrived, that magical extra special day whose best gift to me was the number sixteen itself.  This was the most anticipated age of my life thus far.  Sixteen granted me permission for "like-a-dates," group dates, one-on-one dates... just about every-kind-under-the-sun dates!  Let the dates begin!

I was a fortunate beginner dater--I got to have my first date right smack dab on my birthday itself.  The lucky gentleman was my dad, and this special event had been on our calendar for years.  He may have even planned this before I was born. 

Daddy-daughter dates weren't new to me.  The first date I remember with Dad was when I was eight years old, and we had another when I was twelve.  This date on my sixteenth birthday was certainly the bet one yet, but let me take you back eight years to show you how good my dad was at making his daughter feel loved.

The musical "Annie" starring Aileen Quinn was in the movie theaters, and Dad decided to take me out to see it.  What a luxury!  I can count on one hand--and maybe even on two fingers-- the number of times I saw a movie in the theater when I was a kid.  But Dad knew this movie character of Annie and I could have a unique connection, almost like Mulan and her reflection.  Annie and I were the same age (give or take), we both had curly red hair, a face covered in freckles, and we both knew that singing in the spotlight was the best way to spread the sunshine from our souls.  Annie and I were meant to come together, and Dad honored me with that exhilarating musical movie experience.

Dad sweetened the evening by splurging on some treats.  At the movie he let me choose whichever candy I wanted, so I chose Sugar Babies, and he chose a Sugar Daddy.  Even better than the movie treat, he took me to a donut shop.  I can't remember if that was actually before or after the movie, but that place was amazing.  I felt like I was in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory when he told me I could pick out any donut I wanted. 

"Any donut I want?  In the whole store?" I asked, incredulously.

"Yes, any donut you want, in the whole store," he answered.

"Could I even choose that one?" I asked, pointing to the most glorious donut I had ever seen.

"You sure can!" he said.

"Okay, I would like one of those, please," I told the donut shop lady, still hardly believing my eyes.  And the donut shop lady served her elated Annie look-alike customer that large glazed donut with chocolate frosting, mountains of whipped cream, and a cherry on top.  It looked and tasted like a dream come true.  Did a father ever love a daughter more than mine loved me?  I thought not.

Fast forward eight years, and Dad was about to make another historical date memory for me.   Not only did he want to show me how much he loved me, but out of his duty as my father, he was determined to help me start my dating journey off on the right foot.  This was to be a date by which I could measure the worthiness of all future dates.  Or at least serve as an intro to "proper dating etiquette," which sounded perfectly fascinating (and exciting) to me! 

I had come home from my school choir trip exhausted, but I knew this night was going to be special, so I did my best to fix myself up.  I chose my favorite forest green sweater, paired it with cream colored pants (because we all know it wouldn't be right to wear jeans), and wore my hair up in an elegant french twist.  A beautiful white rose corsage pinned to my sweater completed the outfit.  Thanks, Dad!

Dad spiffed himself up in a traditional Western way, with a white button-up short-sleeved shirt completed with his favorite bolo tie, and surely his best cowboy boots. (In my hometown of Fallon, Nevada, any Fallonite would agree that you don't have to be a cowboy to dress like one--even military men like my dad could pull off that style).

Dad chose the nicest restaurant we had in our small country town, it was called Stockman's.  Dad called ahead and made reservations for two.  We entered through the casino (Nevadans don't think twice about this), and found our way to what looked like the reception area of the restaurant.  The cashier acted confused when we told her our names and announced that we had reservations, but led us back and seated us in a booth nearby.

Something wasn't quite right.  Where was our server?  Why did this "fanciest restaurant in town" resemble the plain old diner next door?  After a few minutes of sitting and waiting and not being served, we realized that we had gone to the wrong place.  We got up and asked an employee to help us find the real fancy restaurant part of Stockman's, and eventually we were led around to the back of the building where the real fancy dates took place.

We walked in and both let out a sigh of relief--this was so much better!  The lights were low, soft music played, centerpieces adorned the tables, polite and formal waiters glided silently through the room, and we were seated with respect.  Indeed, Dad knew how to pick 'em.

"You'll allow your date to order for you" he told me.  (Really?  Hmmm...  I took all of his protocol advice as gospel, even though I'm pretty sure 99.9% of my future dates were oblivious to these prescribed manners).

After Dad helped me understand what some of the elaborate menu items were, I let him order for me: Chicken Cordon Bleu (mmm...delicious).  Even though I may rarely see the opportunity to order this often, if ever I see it on a menu, I am happily taken back to my sixteenth birthday.

Dad was the perfect gentleman.  He helped me with my chair in the beginning, he paid for our meal at the end. We had some laughs, we had some dessert (which might have even had a birthday candle on top), and the fancy restaurant dinner date was just about complete.

On our way out, I remember one final sweet moment.  You know how some restaurants put a dish of mints for you to grab after your meal?  Stockman's had some of those yummy thin cookie sticks dipped in chocolate, and he grabbed a couple for each of us.

"Are we allowed to take these?"  I asked, unsure.

"You bet, that's what they're here for." Dad just seemed to know everything about dates!

He was able to throw in a couple more gentlemanly gestures such as opening and closing my car door for me, and as he drove me home, offered a few final words of counsel about the dos and don'ts of dating.

One thing's for sure: if every date were as special and full of love as my very first real date, with Dad, people would probably not take so long to find the right person to marry. 

Our Little Robin Family

This was one of the highlights of my summer.  We got to observe this nest and the little birds that went along with it from the very beginning of the nest-making until the little birds grew up and hopped out and away.  It was so AMAZING!  This nest was just outside our living room window.  I still walk past the bush with the empty nest in it and think of the fun we had checking on their progress, and now I honestly miss the little bird family that isn't around anymore. 

You can see these 2 little babies are super newly born, and somehow one of the four eggs is no longer here (??).  Just look at how tiny they are!!

All three have hatched now, and they are just 1-2 days old here.

Here the babies are again, only 6 days old.  Can you believe how much they've changed in just 6 days?!

9 days old

9 days old

Only 11 days old, and now they are leaving the nest!  What timing--I came for this photo when one bird was already out in the yard hopping around, one bird was up on the side here and hopped out right of the tree/bush JUST after I took this picture.  Just one bird remained in the nest, for I think just a few more minutes.

This is mama bird chirping and calling to find her babies...she found that they weren't in the nest anymore, so she had to call and wait for them to answer her before she knew where they had hopped off to.  I heard that the mama bird would continue to bring the babies worms for a couple more days after they've left the nest, and then they're on their own.

Fresh out of the nest, not flying yet, but a cute little hopper anyway : ).

After this hour, I did not see these birds again.  Bye bye, baby robin.  It's been fun!   Now I'm just trying to decide which experience I enjoyed more: seeing the robins grow up, or watching the fireflies this summer.  I can't believe they're both all gone (the fireflies too).  Can't wait until next summer to see more!

Lovelly Summer 2012

Father's Day...breakfast in bed for Dad, plus some cards, and a plaque sort of thing (with the upside-down hand prints) for Dad to take to his office.  It says "Happy Father's Day 2012 to the World's Best DAD, hands down!"

Father's Day!

The girls have had a lot of fun learning to bake this summer.  They still need a little help interpreting the directions sometimes, but for the most part, they can make lots of delicious desserts all on their own now.  Spice cake, brownies, banana bread...now all I need to do is train them to make dinner for the family, and I'll--I mean we'll--be all set!

delicious banana bread

Shark turned 12 1/2!  His chosen birthday dessert was chocolate waffles with ice cream on top.  Great choice!

Here are some of his gifts:  this is the banana bread made by his sisters for him (also shown above), there's a lion jigsaw puzzle because he loves lions, he loves that move "Muppet Treasure Island" and picked this out when we were in the thrift store one day, there's Rick Riordan's book "The Throne of Fire" (that's one of his favorite authors), and that green and white box is a fancy stand for his trumpet. He LOVES playing his trumpet, and he's now taking private lessons...he's getting better and better, because he practices daily (without being asked!).  It's awesome!  Happy half-birthday, Shark!

We can't afford anything "extra" this summer (which means almost everything we can stand to live without), so lots of time at a swimming pool wasn't looking very promising.  But we have this awesome friend named Deb who keeps letting us join her and her grandson at a family member's pool just 25 minutes away, and we are so grateful!  The kids have had SO much fun swimming there once in awhile.  Thanks, Deb!

Goldie fell in love with a friend's stray kittens at their farm.  She was allowed to name two of them and call them "hers," but since Jazz and I haven't agreed to letting the kittens come home with us, at the farm they stay.  Goldie wishes they didn't live 45 minutes away so she could visit the kittens more often, but such is life.

Swimming is not my favorite, but here's proof that I got in the pool this summer.  I think I've been in the pool for a total of about 1 hour.  I'm a pool-party-pooper.

Our township here has THE AWESOMEST summer program.  There are 4 hired young adults that "babysit" older children at the park from 9:00-noon, 1:00-4:00 p.m., or 6:00-8:00 p.m. almost every single day.  The kids get to do crafts, play ALL kinds of sports (including tennis, basketball, hockey, flag football, capture the flag), and do super fun activities like giant soapy water water slides...SO much fun stuff.  Kids from all over our town participate so the kids get to see lots of their school friends there.  And they have fun field trips too!  And the most amazing part is--it's all FREE for everyone, funded by the township!  Can you believe that?  It's the greatest summer program EVER.

This is the theater where we went as a family to see BRAVE.  This was one of the "family night" field trips sponsored by the playground group people that I described above.  We got to pre-order pizzas and eat it there in the theater, and then popcorn and snacks of course too.  I just wanted a photo of this theater because I thought it was so old-fashioned and cute!  This building has two rooms for their theaters, so they can show two different movies at a time.  I hear there's another theater in our area that's even more old-fashioned, which shows just one movie at a time.  I want to go there.  That's one of the cool things about living in such an "old" state.  We get to take a few steps back in time : )  (not to mention all of the fabulous Amish farms around, where almost nothing is done in the "modern" way).  Have I ever mentioned that I really like living in PA?  I wish you could see it all, it's a great place to live.

This was a wonderful summer sunset from last week.  Aren't you jealous of our back-yard view?

I just had to finish with the best thing of all from this summer:  I'M BACK ON THE COURT AGAIN.  Could life get any better?!!!!!!  I get to play about once a week, and it's AWE-SOME.  I don't know if I'll get to keep playing once school starts (because I'll be without a car again), but you know I'm going to do everything I can to make it happen ; ). 

HAPPY SUMMER, EVERYONE!

The Falling Part: Chicago's Broken Heart

There certainly are a lot of "firsts" worth mentioning during the falling years.  First love note, first crush, first mutual crush, first date, first kiss, first marriage proposal... Who knew that my first broken heart would fit in that lineup even before my first date or my first kiss?

There was one incident before I was old enough to date, when I planned to go to the movies with one of my best girl friends from my ballet class, Brooke.  With an increased amount of makeup and hair and outfit-fuss going on, and surely some seemingly undue anxiety that was written across my forehead, Mom perceptibly asked, "Are you meeting boys at the movie, Jenny?"  I flew off of the handle and yelled and cried, "How could you accuse me of such a crime?!  Don't you trust me?  Why would you ask me such a thing?!" (Yet in my mind I was thinking, What gave it away?  How in the world did she know?  Maybe I should call Brooke back and tell her this was a bad idea...)

This was not that time.  This story starts at the movie theater as well, again with Brooke, but this time we were innocent. Two of our guy friends happened to be going, but I'm pretty sure that was just a coincidence.   Besides, my youngest brother Ellis went along with us, so there was no secret funny business going on.  Perhaps sending the little brother was Mom's way of spying, to find out if any funny business was threatening to come to pass.  Could be.  It was a smart safety precaution anyway, I would say.

Scott and Braden were our friends at the movie this day, though we didn't know each other too well yet.  We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves as we watched Back to the Future II in the theater--what a great show!  We couldn't wait to see Part III.  Scott came up with a brilliant plan:  he asked me if I'd be his date when Part III came out, and he'd even treat me to dinner that night, since I would finally be sixteen by then. 

Including our Back to the Future movie date--I mean coincidental meeting, Scott and I got to know each other through a series of fortunate events.  He was a senior and I a sophomore.  He was a member of the church, a super nice guy, happy, athletic and outgoing, and what I loved most about him was his happy and beautiful smile.  It lit me up inside. We had lots of common friends, and we both were very fond of taking advantage of all of the church and school dance opportunities as possible.

Our second special time together happened out of town.  It seems that although Mom and Dad didn't permit me to ride alone in a car with a guy even for five minutes to catch a ride home from somewhere (remember, no "like-a-dates" allowed until I was sixteen), they managed to overlook what one might call "like-a-double-date" car rides.  Brooke and I rode with Scott and Braden all the way from Fallon to Reno together--almost an hour ride, heading to a church dance.  When we got there, we discovered the dance had been cancelled.  We were disappointed, but made the best of our time out that evening before heading home.  What better way to get to know each other and allow a friendship to transform into adoration than over Burger King grub?

Brooke and I, meanwhile, were about to hit a rough patch in our friendship.  With so many important boy-associations to be to be experienced, some high school girls may tend to be jealous and gossippy and not-so-loyal in their friendships.  Tangled webs were being weaved, as Brooke some how teamed up with a mean girl who really didn't like me, and we began to grow apart. 

Journal Entry, 3 December 1989:
Oh boy, at least I've got one good friend left.  Me & Ellie Preston are getting really close : ).  It seems we have the same problems at the same time, and understand how each other is feeling.  : )!  She told me Scott likes me!  But he would kill her if she told me.  He said he wants to take it slow--me too.  She said she kept it in for 2 weeks and couldn't anymore.  He told her after we went to Burger King in Reno.  He told her at school a couple of days after that.  Scott is so nice.

What I find peculiar about my admiration for Scott is that I don't remember arriving to the point of elated excitement or dizzy imaginings of us being together.  I simply loved being around him and felt happy whenever I was with him.  He was very much "my type," and I loved how we fit together.

A common interest in music--specifically, the current hit band Chicago--developed into a most significant part of this comfortable fit.  After school one day, Scott asked me if I would please try to make it to the school dance after my jazz choir's Christmas concert.  Gladly! When we weren't dancing together, we sat and talked.  We made plans to see more fun movies together.  We discovered that we both loved Chicago, and anytime a Chicago song played, we were immediately on our feet dancing, and singing along together (although I would have been happy to just listen to Scott's beautiful voice).

Within just a few short weeks, Scott had an unexpected change of heart. I doubt the reason was anything substantial, but things changed. All of the sudden, at our next dance, whenever a Chicago song came on, he was making sure he was not available for me to dance with.  As Peter Cetera's melts-me-every-time voice would fill the room, I would look up, only to see Scott running in the opposite direction to find a dance partner.  Our communication went from planning fun future dates together to...zero communication.

Word soon came from Ellie that Scott liked me now for no more than a friend.  This wasn't the first time for a young relationship to end before I had wished, so why was this time so hard?  Perhaps it was the way the stars were aligned that night, or the way this disappointment fell onto a pile of other emotional let-downs for that month (that's just the way life can be for teenage girls).  All I know is that Scott is the first guy I ever actually cried over.

In the privacy of my bedroom, with the comfort of my feather pillow, tears and sobs flowed freely as I replayed my favorite Chicago song over and over again. 

The pain came and went.  I made it through.  Outside of that one dance when Scott distanced himself from me, he never treated me less than a friend would, which of course was a relief.

We didn't connect much more during the school year, and then a few months later he was off to college.  More months passed, and with the arrival of Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks, the college kids all came home for visits.  At one Saturday night dance, I got to dance with Scott and we reminisced about what had happened before between us.  As we tried to figure out why we had stopped talking, he did say he was sorry for the abrupt end (or in his words, for "dogging" me).  Over the holiday breaks, at the dances and at everyone's favorite hangout--Ellie's house, we got reacquainted and became good friends again.

Journal Entry, 1 January 1991:
Ellie called and asked Bryan [my brother] and me to come over and play Scattergories with them. When we got there it was just her and Trent and us.  Later Brock came, and then Scott, Jared, and Josh.  After we played Scattergories 'till 11:00, we went to the piano and Bryan and Josh played while the rest of us sang songs like "Somewhere Out There," "You're the Inspiration," "After All," and "The Rose," it was really fun--Scott sings really well, I like to sing with him.  I borrowed one of his tapes and he's supposed to bring me another one I want to borrow.  So that he could bring it to me he asked me where I live, then he said - "I'll take you out sometime" - I was kind of in shock, but of course really happy again to know he'd think of me that way again.  Sometimes he makes me so crazy, he's so cute and funny, I'll miss him when he leaves again : (.  I better see him some more before he leaves--he'll at least need to get his tape back.  He makes me so crazy - I often feel I like him so much again but wish I didn't in a way because of the way I cried over him before.  Scott.

Scott came and sat by me for two movies at Ellie's house: Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure and Back to the Future III. During the second one I said, "We were supposed to watch this together anyway, remember?"  He said, "We were?  ...See, I told you we would!"  I laughed.

Those were the very last memories I made with Scott.  He returned to college, and then was off on his mission.  Our paths never really crossed again except as good old friends. 

To this day, I still smile and think of Scott whenever I hear the sweet sounds of Chicago.

The Falling Part: "I'm Not Allowed to Yet" (part 2)

My sixteen-year wait for the green light on dating was not much of an issue until I was at least thirteen or fourteen.   With regards to most young men that caught my attention, the wait was hard and not appreciated.  But there was a flip side, too.  My parents' rule served as a wonderful scape goat on occasion!  I was about to learn that not all attention from guys was desirable.

Journal Entry, 23 November 1987:
There is a boy at school, Robbie Connors, who is constantly flirting with every cute girl he sees.  I can't stand to be around him.  Luckily, I only have one out of seven classes with him, History, last hour.  I asked Mr. Hinz (our History teacher) if I could sit totally far away from him.  I sit on the opposite side of the room from him.

Robbie was all about girls. Perhaps even at an earlier age than the rest of the guys I knew.

One day after school in seventh grade, he insisted that I give him a hug.  That has to be the worst hug I've ever had in my life.  From a distance, it may have looked like any normal hug between two consenting individuals.  The truth is, I felt like I had only partially consented--he had merely managed to talk me into it.  It left me with such a horrible feeling inside, I later talked with my mom about it.  She explained to me one of the facts of life--that guys sometimes hug girls for the thrill of feeling their bodies.  YIKES!  This was new to me, and difficult to process.  I would definitely choose to be more selective with my hugs from now on!

A couple of years later, when Robbie called and asked the fifteen-year-old me if I would go to the prom with him, I was shocked.  I didn't recall ever really being his friend.  Lucky for me, I hadn't reached the magic birthday yet, so saying "I'm not allowed to yet" served as a relief more than anything, and a welcomed excuse.  Thankfully, he left me alone after that.

Another example of feeling saved by the infamous "not yet" rule came upon my meeting Mike Glover.

I met Mike during my sophomore year of high school, as I was the student secretary in his Calculus class. He and I enjoyed a mutual crush for a short time.  He was senior, a cute soccer player with braces and a flat-top.  When he asked me if I would go to a dance with him after one of our football games, I sincerely lamented telling him "I'm not allowed to yet."  Until... I decided that rejection turned out to be a blessing in disguise, when Mike showed up to that football game drunk!  This delinquency was also new to me!  Thank heavens for coincidental protection such as that one.  That crush was finished, with no regrets on my part.

I am somewhat embarrassed by some of the crushes I entertained, but I think the embarrassing ones deserve mentioning.  In my defense, I cling to a statement from one of my best girlfriends in high school, Kristyn; she said, "You can't help who you feel chemistry with."  In this case, it's a good thing the "no dating yet" rule applied to not only me, but to these fine young men as well...the missionaries.

Don't be mad at me for flirting with the missionaries!  I was still just learning about what was appropriate and what was not.  (Okay, yes, I should have known better, but still...) The full-time missionaries in our church are not allowed to date during their missionary service.  That doesn't mean that people around them become blind to the fact that they're possibly in their most attractive stage of life at their ripening age of nineteen or thereabouts (not to mention their sharp suits and ties and handsome short haircuts).  Or at least to teenage girls it seems that way.

Mom kept a close eye on flirty little me.  "You wouldn't want to be responsible for making a missionary have inappropriate thoughts about a girl, would you?" she warned.  That made sense to me, and I remember considering the warning.  Hopefully her counsel to keep my distance was heeded well enough.  I think I did okay.  But I still find my journal entry about one certain elder entertaining:

Journal Entry, 26 July 1988: 
The missionary I like, Elder Stratford, was transferred to a different area [insert heart with a sad face inside].  I found out* his first name was Jason [insert heart].  I miss seeing him.  We have a new missionary, his name is Elder Robinson.  He's cute, but he's no Jason. [heart].

--
Disclaimer to my daughters--and for that matter, to all daughters, sons, sisters, brothers, cousins, and everyone everywhere: please learn here from my mom's counsel and not from my mistake--do NOT flirt with missionaries.  It's not nice, and it's, well...just don't do it!
--

I seemed to always have my sight set on someone.  Or be searching for someone to latch on to.  Regional dances, band trips, and choir trips provided opportunities to meet young people from neighboring towns, which led to some fun long-distance but usually short-term flings.  I was at times overjoyed to get an expensive long-distance phone call from a recent interested acquaintance (long-distance calls used to be a luxury, back in the day), and didn't pass up the chance to make invitations to our local events.  I felt pretty special when a guy would make up to a one hour drive just to come see me.  But again, not being allowed to officially date yet kept me grounded, and so not many of my long-distance admirers from this time period received much encouragement to stick around.

When Jesse, a sweet young gentleman whom I had met at a choir event (and had gotten to know through a few phone conversations) called to tell me he was in town and would like to visit me, I obliged.  Mom and Dad weren't home, so we just talked for about an hour in the family room, and all was low-key.  We had a nice visit, but my resulting feelings were somewhat of a revelation...

Journal Entry, 16 March 1990:
Jesse's real nice--but I do not want to be more than friends.  Not just with him, but with anyone.  I think it's nice to not be "involved" with anyone for awhile.

How ironic...just weeks before my sixteenth birthday, I was ready to rest a bit from my labors of love.  Perhaps that was the one last emotion I needed to experience before being ready to dive into dating. 





----
 *Missionaries in our church all go by the title of "Elder" or "Sister," followed by their last name.  First names are rarely used with the public during their missions, and are therefore rarely known by the members of the church.

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.)
 ----

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.