Wednesday morning, the air is still, and the clouds gray; that means the water isn’t working today. Trouble is I worked out at the gym on Monday and Tuesday, so I need to let my body rest. As much as I enjoy the endorphin release working out five days a week makes me feel weak; strange, right?
Kirt’s birthday comes next month; the stars were in perfect alignment to give me someone to love. The least likely man on earth won my love.
Before I met Kirt’s best friend a handsome young engineer asked me to marry him. After I said yes, he became critical of how I did things; at first I’d just accommodate his wishes, but then he started telling me that I bowled wrong and how I should be throwing the ball. That didn’t set right because I beat him at bowling regularly. “I’m beating you and you’re telling me how to do it!”
How can someone tell you how to do something you do better than they do? He sounded so adamant that when I listened to how it should be done, I heard a warning from God.
A friend introduced me to a hillbilly guy with hair like Elvis who oozed sex appeal. He sold black beauties; we became good friends and flirted with the idea of more. Frequently, we hung out with his buddy who recently returned from the Army.
The privilege of a good education by the nuns gave me a strong sense of morality and could only flirt with the darkness of a real low life. As I pulled away from a classic sixties bad boy his buddy the Army guy talked with me non-stop; earthy countryman listened to me and asked questions. I wondered what growing up in the hills felt like as opposed to where I grew up in the city. He told me about picking beans when he was eight and working on a tobacco farm at ten. I respected him for being strong enough to work at that age when I had a hard enough time doing well in school and staying out of trouble.
Girls learn about marrying well as if it’s in our DNA. I curled my lip at the thought of being attracted to Kirt. I had dated Mendel men and college graduates; my prospects were loftier than the son of a garage mechanic. I enjoyed dates at fine restaurants, the Playboy Club, and shows. This man from Tennessee could offer nothing more than a paycheck and his heart.
My grandmother, my nana, asked how my date was when I came home from my first date with Kirt. “This is the man I’m going to marry,” I announced. She laughed. That was almost a half a century ago.
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