HAPPY ANNIVERSARY LENORE!

Dating was never my strong suit. Lets just say, "I was no heart throb.” What can I say? I was raised in a family of boys… with the exception of my poor mother who continually apologizes to my wife and my sisters in law saying, “I really tried hard to civilize them but it didn’t work.” When I was in my late teens I still would rather have baled hay than “sit and talk” even with a young lady I found to be attractive. I hated it when girls called just to talk and would find excuses to hang up as soon as possible. I had a handful of guy friends with whom I made it a point to plan fishing trips during school dances.

At church camp there was always pressure to impress the girls so that you didn’t look like a chump at the end of the week by going to the banquet alone. My style of impressing the girls was to throw dead snakes into their cabin and laugh hysterically when the predictable screaming commenced. I gave my friends wedgies when they were “putting the moves” on prospective banquet dates and teased them for talking to girls when they should be playing tackle football. One unfortunate girl who went to the banquet with me left in tears when I sang to her. My singing was fine it was just that I sang Lionel Richie’s “You’re Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady” while expanding my hands out from my waist. She wasn’t fat but she didn’t understand that I was joking. I didn’t get it then and had to roast a wiener by the bonfire alone. I think I understand now.

I improved marginally in college. Instead of snakes, I threw water balloons into dorm rooms. I was the cafeteria champ for wadding up napkins and throwing them at an unsuspecting female from whom I was hoping to garner some attention. I got really good and could hit a girl clear across the room. I don’t guess it ever dawned on me that a paper napkin careening off of your forehead and into your mashed potatoes might not be a turn on. Then again, I’m not sure I cared. If she didn’t go out with me it just freed up a Friday night for fishing. There were a few girls that tried to put up with me but after a few dates of wading in the creek and going to the library to read hunting magazines, they invariably lost interest.

But as for most of us guys there was one girl who was different. I prefer to believe that she saw a diamond in the rough (and there was a lot of rough) and persevered to find it. She put up with the water balloons, snowballs and wadded up napkins. She rolled her eyes at the impressive burps and sat by me on the shore while fishing. She even gave hunting and golf a try; both of which produced stories that are funny but I won’t go into here. She laughed at most of my jokes and cried when I tricked her into touching a vending machine that had a short in it so that when touched produced a mild but painful electric shock. I still feel bad about that one.

Saturday, July 25th will mark 22 years of her patience. The city girl having to refine the country boy a bit but every day being worth it. Thank you Lenore for hanging in there. I love you.