It was during a Christmas dance at the country club that we met. In those days most kids did not bring dates, but were just there; dressed to the nines and hopeful. Wonder of wonders, John asked for a dance and then another and the ordinary turned into something extraordinary. We didn’t magically begin dating, he was popular and had his pick of girls, and I was still going out on group dates. But in February I found the nerve to invite him to my sixteenth birthday party. All my friends knew of it and we waited with bated breath to see if he would come. He did and they sighed in the way only adolescent girls can. The party moved to the basement where we danced amid the furnace pipes and laundry lines. A new era in my life was being introduced and I welcomed it wholeheartedly.
For the rest of that year and the next we dated on weekends and rode in his Oldsmobile to the uptown lunchroom. He took me to his prom and I took him to mine. I bought my prom dress with the money I made by selling my trombone. It was strapless, floor length and had many layers of tulle; one of those dreamy dresses every teenager longs for. But, as John was kissing me good night — under the porch light Dad insisted be kept burning — several large, buzzing June Bug beetles worked their way under and into the diaphanous layers of my dream dress. When I became aware of the invasion, screams erupted and panic reigned. I pushed John aside and fled indoors where the dress was unceremoniously discarded. I assume John made it home.
Just before the start of my senior year, John gave me an engagement ring and we were the it couple. John had graduated and was farming with his father. (My ring cost him one field of beans.) He was almost never on time for a date as crops and cattle competed with me for his attention. In the classroom I spent a lot of time daydreaming and writing Mrs. John Swanson on my notebooks. I decided since I was a twin I would have a set of my own. Melynda and Melyssa would be their names. I planned the wedding and told God what our life would be like.
As most young people of that age, I knew more than God. I knew all the answers and was insufferably vain and self-centered. But, on June 10, 1956, just two weeks after I graduated high school, John and I were married. Air conditioning was not available back then and poor John looked like a candle slowly melting as he waited with the minister. I walked down the aisle wearing a ballerina-length, size10 wedding gown that was lace and tulle over a hoop skirt. It was a fairy-tale wedding for its time, and I felt beautiful.
Well, as often happens, the sands of time have shifted many things. The older I get, the less I know about life and God. The days slide by like pearls off a broken necklace. But Spring still comes in April, John still puts up with me and God has forgiven me for trying to order my own life. It’s been long and it’s been good. I am thankful for it.
