Stan

Cindy

Our lives went on. We did have family reunions, and as with reunions, we took photos. There were even photos taken with a space where Stan would have been standing. We are a musical family, and when we get together, the music would pour out of our souls. We would sing a country song and talk how Stan could sing it like no one else.

I started to become my own person, and even though I loved my family, I became more and more independent from my family.

My high school years were fun. My college years went by fast. I took an interest in science. I would love to be in the space program. My grades were good enough, but my eyesight wasn’t. I always joked about my glasses. One lens was the bottom of a Coca-Cola bottle, and the other was a Dr. Pepper. I was in the space program but as an analyst. I was a puzzle solver. I checked other people’s work. I was there when the Challenger went up. I was on the team to figure out what happened. I was the youngest one on the team. I had knowledge of classified information. I thought I was happy. I thought I was complete and then budget cuts, major budgets cuts. I was out of a job.

I moved back to my hometown. It was small and quiet, nothing like the East Coast. It was in the northern part of Southern California. It was named after a president of the United States. We would have big Fourth of July community events. The churches during the autumn would put on harvest festivals. There were only two stoplights. You could get across town in ten minutes flat. We had a diner that was the hangout, and the food were down-to-earth home-cooked meals, with a lot of comfort food. You pretty much knew everyone, and you didn’t dare talk about someone, because they could be related to the person you were talking with. If you wanted the big city, it was an hour drive. The ocean was less than two hours away, and two hours away in the opposite direction were mountains with a beautiful lake. It was my refuge but not my life. I thought I could teach. I could teach and form young lives to dream and reach for the stars. I pursued that adventure, and what an adventure. I started with elementary schools. It was rewarding and challenging. I was good with my finances, and I traveled during the summer breaks. I traveled to different countries and learned about their cultures and their ways.

Mom always told us we were Irish, especially on St. Patrick’s Day. I discovered that a lot of people are Irish on that day. Considering that my brother Stan and I both have red hair, I would think that this could be true. I spent a week in Ireland, stayed in bed-and-breakfasts, and toured Dublin. I absolutely loved the Trinity Library. I visited Waterford, Kerry, Donegal, and the Cliffs of Moher; now that was a sight. The sky was so clear that day, and there was not a cloud in the sky for that morning you could see for miles. I had a couple of dinners in castles, and the music—the music was amazing. I would visit pubs in the local towns along the way just to listen to the stories and the music. The music was wonderful. The later you stayed at the pub, you’d noticed that everyone would start to sing. I loved it.

I then thought I could have some Scot in me, so I went to Scotland. It was just as fascinating. I fell in love with the castles and the lakes, especially Loch Lomond. I looked for the mystical monster at Loch Ness. The people there were so real and down-to-earth. It was a treasure staying there.

I enjoyed Europe in many different tours. I listened to some pieces by Mozart in Austria, ate some delicious food in Italy, toured the coliseum, rode a gondola in Venice, and visited museums; and, oh, the Catholic cathedrals—what amazing architecture and antiquities.

I stayed in Greece, toured the Grecian Islands, and saw the Corinth Canal, which they started with shovels. I always told myself to do a history lesson on the canal. I was so impressed with the Parthenon. How the people of that day make such grand buildings is a puzzle I can’t explain.

I traveled all through Israel. This is a nation that is strong. Of course, a conflict could break out at any time. I loved visiting the biblical historical sites. The Sea of Galilee, Jerusalem, Haifa, the tomb that is empty. I spent a whole two weeks there and learned so much, and Israel touched my heart.

I thought I would never be afraid to try different cuisine until I traveled to Cairo, Egypt. One restaurant when I crossed the threshold hit me like a tsunami. The smells, the cats running free even on the tables, and the sight of something brown on a plate being served to another patron sent me walking out the door. I found a bench and, reaching into my backpack, pulled out a bag of American beef jerky. I knew this jerky was beef.

My travels started to take me closer to home. The United States of America has a lot to share and see. Its cuisine is just as different as the clam chowders are from coast to coast. You could drive or fly, sometimes take a train—yes, I liked traveling on American soil.

I stayed away from typical tourist attractions. I did travel to Eureka Springs, Arkansas. I loved standing in front of the Christ of the Ozarks. I watched the Passion Play. It is definitely a place I would go back and visit again. I took a canoe ride on the Bull River, and the fish looked so close, but they were in deep clear water. That is a sight you don’t see in Southern California.

I toured the plantations of the south. Of course, you had to see some at night because they were haunted. I was taken aback by the trees, the birds, and the different colors of green.

I did tour big cities. New York City. There is so much to see and do there. I was impressed of how wide the sidewalks are, and people there are people always walking. In my little town, we as teenagers would complain that the town rolled up the sidewalks at 9:00 p.m.

I traveled to Chicago, Denver, and Sacramento. I would take tours and learn the history. You are never too old to learn.

Even though I had many changes in my life—from new students every year, new ways to teach us how to teach, or new places to travel to every summer—my life was becoming predictable. I decided to change one summer and dedicate my life to helping troubled students at a camp. The camp changed my life. Sure I helped students learn during the school year, but here at the camp, I was needed. I was needed to listen and be there and do things with these kids who needed me just as much as I needed them. I loved just being with these kids on the hikes, talks, skipping stones on the lake, learning how to make leather crafts. I was feeling complete but yet not complete until the third summer I met Jeff.

Jeff

Jeffrey Wayne Wilson was six feet two. He is a kind man. He has dark-blond hair, and when camp starts, he is clean-shaven. By the time camp ends, he has a short scruffy beard. He wears his jeans well, and his plaid shirts emphasized his broad shoulders. You can see him in hiking boots but also tennis shoes. He loves to laugh, plays the guitar, and sings. He is not afraid to show his emotions, especially to the children. The young boys look up to him, and they know he has their backs.

That summer flew by. The kids could see we were becoming a couple. The girls would tease me in the cabin at night. Some of the girls would even give me advice. I was never one to really go girly, but on the last night, I let them talk me into them doing a makeover.

It was truly a makeover. The last night at camp, we would have a fantastic dinner and then an uplifting talk and songs around a campfire. I could tell Jeff was always looking at me. I agreed to meet him after we had the kids in their beds. We met at the campfire. The embers were still glowing. If they were stoked, a flame could still be found. I then realized I had embers to be stoked inside of me. That night, among the tall pine trees and the stars peeking through the velvet black moonless sky, Jeff, in a very gentle and loving way, started to stoke my dying embers.

Young Love

That summer was over, but it will never be over in my heart. I was happy. I was smiling. I was even singing in the shower. It took some planning on our part. I was established in my teaching career, and Jeff was established in his, as a high school teacher. We lived miles apart, one hundred miles to be exact. We would talk on the phone, write letters, and send cards that would either make us smile, laugh out loud, or shed a tear. We would take turns to visit one another especially on my breaks from school. That school year went by so slowly, but, finally, June came around. As luck would have it, the last day of school was on June 3, and I could see my love on June 4. This was a June 4 that will be different, a good June 4.

We worked together at that camp becoming more and more intoxicated with each other. Some of the returning students were still giving us advice. We would, of course, listen; but with our glances at each other, we just knew what the other was thinking. I didn’t want that summer to end. The last night, as tradition, we were around the campfire singing our songs when everyone stopped as if on cue and Jeff sang to me. My love sang to me with everyone listening. It was a Kenny Rogers song, a country song. My brother Stan couldn’t even sing this song as well as Jeff did. Jeff was my knight in shiny armor and at the end of the song. He went down on one knee and asked me to marry him. I didn’t even get to answer the girls in my cabin ran and hugged us both, and they answered for me. We were married at that campground the following spring break, making sure that those students who were there were there to witness and help us with the festivities.

It was a beautiful wedding, and I did allow the girls to do another makeover. The air was fresh and clean, and the sky had puffy white floating clouds overhead. The lupines were in bloom. The fragrances from the pine trees were filling our senses. Our day was enchanted. It was a great way to start our life together. I was dressed in a beautiful white wedding dress with large puffy sleeves. I looked like a princess. I felt as beautiful as a princess. My dark-auburn hair was put up in French twist and lined with baby’s breath flowers. I was a princess for my special day.

Jeff was dressed in a black tuxedo with tails. He was so handsome. He was tall and blond with bright-blue eyes. It was like living in a fairy tale even if for one day. The day went perfect. I was happy. I felt complete. We were Mr. and Mrs. Jeffery Wilson. We were in love, and it showed.

I had to resign from the school I was working and had to move over a hundred miles away to be with the love of my life. Now that we were together, we became best friends and the best lovers. We could talk for hours. We would take evening walks where we would dream. What kind of house we should buy? Where should we raise our children? We solved the world’s problems.

I couldn’t find a job right away for that first year I became a substitute schoolteacher. It was challenging not knowing where you would be, what grade you would be teaching, or even if you had to teach a certain subject. As luck would have it, there was a naval base only twenty-five miles away. A position opened up that I was qualified for. I was hired and now back in my original element. Jeff and I were smart with our money, and we found a most wonderful house in between both of our jobs. It was an old house. It was a two-story Tudor-style house. We took weekend classes at the local hardware store and became quite the do-it-yourselfers. We painted, repaired, replaced, and both learned how to garden. Gardening was our challenge. We even learned how to put in our own sprinkler system. We would visit our local library and check out books and would dream that our yard would look like the ones in the pictures. Of course, with gardening and other home repairs, we learned that it wasn’t done overnight. We had to learn the lesson of being patient.

Our photo albums were filled with pictures of our first vegetables and flowers. I was convinced that no other tomato could ever taste as delicious as the ones you have grown from your own garden. I learned how to can our harvest and to make the most wonderful bread from our zucchini. Of course, when I would bring my photo album home to show Mom, she would go on about grandchildren. The photo album should be filled with children helping us garden with little boots and little tools.

Cindy, she would say, your biological clock is ticking.

I know, Mom, but it is just not the right time. We are almost finished with the house. We want to have more in savings. We want to start out right.

If you wait until you can afford kids, you will be waiting an awful long time. Just don’t wait too long.

Mom, we want kids, and we are talking about it, so don’t worry. You will have more grandchildren.

That sounds good, but remember talk is cheap, and just like in music, ‘Practice makes perfect.’

Mother!

Just then Jeff walked in and heard the last of the conversation. ‘Practice makes perfect’? he repeated. What are you practicing for?

Mom piped up very swiftly, Grandchildren.

Jeff’s face turned red. He turned on his heels and quickly left the room.

We both started to giggle.

Sorry, honey, it’s in the Irish in me.

Vacation

Our life went along smoothly. Sure there were tight times—times we overextended ourselves with too many projects. We had to stop and reassess our monies and our projects. We were still serving the students at our camp. Now we could only stay two weeks at a time. Life was good. Life was full. Life was predictable. Life became stagnant. It was hard to believe that we were married for seven years.

Seven years. Our friends always told us about the seven-year itch. Our friends were older than us. They were married longer and had a child. One Friday night, while at our friend’s house for dinner and an evening of a wild card game, we were discussing our dilemma. Bill instructed us it was okay to take a vacation for us. We needed to get away and have a vacation as a couple. We needed to take another honeymoon.

Jeff and I started a heart-to-heart talk while on the home. Do we dare give up our camp? We have been working at the camp now for over ten years. Where would we go? What would we do? We had six months to decide.

We took advantage of the library. We asked our friends what was their favorite vacation. Some said to start small. Others said go for a huge vacation. We watched movies of exotic places. Jeff even started to subscribe to the National Geographic magazine. Our weekend projects were pretty much caught up. I started a vacation fund. It was exciting to watch our balance grow. It was growing, but Jeff and I hadn’t a clue on what to do. I even poured over my old vacation pictures. I wanted something different, something new with Jeff. We had our friends over at our house for the evening. They brought their daughter. We didn’t even have one VHS tape for children. Our home was beautiful but not safe for kids. Bill, again in his wisdom, instructed us to stay in the country. One of my coworkers said to put our ideas in a hat and have a drawing. Now that was an idea; let fate decide.

Fate’s Decision

We decided to do just that. We looked up vacation spots we were interested in, in every state of the United States. Jeff wrote his desires, and I wrote mine. The bowl was full of a hundred places of where to go. We looked at each other and started to laugh. Who was going to choose? We had discussions of who should be the chosen one. Here we are letting fate decide, and we couldn’t even let fate draw. Jeff got an idea. We picked up the bowl and headed over unannounced across the street to Bill’s house. Our fate was handed to an adorable five-year old curly headed bright-blue-eyed little girl. Bill took the bowl, mixed up the papers, and teased Mandy to pick the right one. There was no pressure, but her daddy assured her that Jeff’s vacations would be better than Cindy’s because boys rule and girls drool. Finally, after a few moments of chaos, Mandy drew the piece of paper; that little bit of fate on where we would spend our vacation. Jeff tried to grab the paper, but Bill was faster. Bill looked at it, and his face went to his poker face. He looked at us and said, Why don’t we try the best out of three chances?

Why, Bill? We only wanted one chance, said Jeff. What’s wrong?

Brother, I am just trying to help you out. This is a chick vacation, answered Bill.

Mandy started to jump up and down and teased her daddy. Girls rule and boys drool, Daddy!

I started to dance with Mandy, and then the begging began.

Come on, Bill. Where is our vacation? I asked.

I can’t believe all the places in California, you chose to go to this place.

I started to smile and giggle. I knew where I chose. I grabbed Mandy and started to dance again. Then I picked her up and told her, Thank you, Princess Mandy. This is a magical place that I got to go only once when I was little. I loved it there, and I always wanted to go again. Mandy, you chose Disneyland. We are going to Disneyland.

Mandy started to jump up and down, singing, We’re going to Disneyland! We’re going to Disneyland!

Hold on there, little one. This is Jeff and Cindy’s vacation. Not yours.

"Oh, Daddy, you promised