Chapter 6: The Calm Before The Storm

CHAPTER SIX

Our Mutual Trust and Honesty Deepen
The Calm Before The Storm

The following week was a mixture of emotions: I was engaged and loving every min-ute of it, I was not supposed to be spending all my time with that one girl – thanks to my parents, and the third emotion is one all high school students dread each and every year. It can be summed up in one word – FINALS.
Final exams were held Monday and Tuesday. While the teachers hadn’t graded them by then, Wednesday and Thursday were used by many teachers to review the exam so you could get an idea of how well you may have performed on it. Of course, there are always those teachers who like to move ahead and cover new material, even though we weren’t going to be tested on it. We’ve all had teachers like that.
Friday, June 3rd was a really special day, though. For seniors only. Senior Class Day. This was the last day of actual school for the seniors, and on this day we were allowed to (safely) bend all the rules, so to speak. A number of time-honored, rule-breaking traditions were observed on this “last fling” day:
Dress Code? Never heard of one. Shorts and tee shirts were the order of the day.
“Classroom and hallway manners?” We don’t remember taking that class. It was enter at your own risk. Squirt guns (they only contained water back then, and none of the high-powered ones kids have now; just pistols, etc. for us) were the weapon of choice. (Try dodging a jet stream of water during class changes with 350 other kids in the way). You did, however, find the occasional “radical” individual who dared to include water balloons and, on rare occasions a cherry bomb or two in the festivities. Then you had the practical jokes. For us they were the safe kind. Our generation had respect for the school, the Administration, and each other. The one practical joke that directly affected me that day was when someone in my English class put a chunk of Limburger cheese in the classroom wastebasket. Class that day was conveniently and immediately moved to the front lawn.
And, finally, there was the Senior Class Skit. The afternoon was spent with the entire student body, the faculty and the administration in the auditorium where members of the senior class, at their option, participated in a running comedy skit giving their impressions of events, faculty members and Administration personnel during the course of the year that was about to end. Needless to say, the faculty and Administration were even intrigued to see how the student body had perceived them in recent months. There were always some seniors who were able to portray members of the faculty with amazing candor and humor, if not accuracy. Too bad that the students filed into the auditorium in a specific classroom sequence; it would have been fun to sit next to Linda for the skit.

Another time-honored tradition for seniors on this day was the publication of a special issue of the school newspaper, the Chieftain. (Our football team was, and is the Anderson Redskins. During 1999, Anderson’s School Board was asked by a group representing Ameri-can Indians to drop the Redskins name, as it considered the term to be demeaning to the Indians. I’m proud to say that the board stood by the name, and voted to keep it, as it has always been only a source of pride to those of us who attended Anderson). This special issue contained each senior’s “Last Will and Testament”, and a Prophecy for each individual senior, written by an anonymous author. The Prophecy was usually a comic parody of that senior’s hoped-for career or other aspect of their future life that had become a “trademark” of sorts for their time at school. Each senior, of course, submitted his or her own “Will” for publication. The Will was obvious; each senior would leave to a member of next year’s graduating class whatever they liked, didn’t like, etc. about school, the faculty and/or the Administration. Mrs. Harris was considered by most of the student body to be the toughest of the English teachers. So, one such will might read, “… do hereby will and bequeath to Sam Jones the hope that he will also have Mrs. Harris for senior English.” Then, naturally, we all waited with anticipation for the chance to grab an issue “hot off the press” and read the Prophecy prepared for us. I was no different.
With all the ribbing I had taken as an outsider in my three years in the high school, I wondered what my prophecy would bring. I was counting on it to be ribbing me about my relationship with Linda; for seeing that would be a big boost for her courage next year when I wouldn’t be here to defend her. There were no guarantees I would get my wish, but knowing this crowd I was fairly confident, and highly hopeful. The meaning of my Will, of course, was obviously the same – to bolster her feelings when I wouldn’t be here.
That afternoon, after the skit was over, as the last event of my high school years, the year’s final issue of the Chieftain “hit the streets”. I grabbed 2 copies so I was sure Linda would have one with her next year.
Eagerly I turned to the Prophecies. My heart pounded with joy as I read, “JAMES WILLIAMSON – will be a big boost for the ‘Heart Fund’.
They hadn’t disappointed me.
Next, I made sure my Last Will and Testament was printed exactly as I had written it days earlier. They got that right, too: “I, Jim Williamson, do hereby will and bequeath to Linda Hart: three years’ instrument room and rehearsal confusion, my ability to read the bass clef, and all the joy, excitement and wonderful memories of high school an Anderson senior can have.” (Linda did later learn to read the bass clef, thanks to a little help from yours truly. JAW 6/11/99)
I had counted on the prophecy pointing out our relationship (for her sake next year), and they didn’t disappoint me. Little did they know they were giving me exactly what I wanted. This time the joke was on them.
Linda and I met briefly before I left that afternoon. I made sure she had that copy of the Chieftain, and she wrote this in my yearbook, right in the front where she knew I’d see it every time I opened it: “To Jim, the one I’ll always love. Good luck at U.C. Love, Lin.”
Also, that day, I gave Linda a wallet size copy of my senior photo, to keep with her at all times through the coming year to bolster her spirits when I wouldn’t be there to help her out. I wrote a special note of love on the back that I hoped would help her at those times: “To Linda – the one I will always need, want and love more than anything else in this world. Take care of yourself. All my love, Jim”
[The whole idea of Class Day was great. And, as you saw above, the way it was done we even had the support of the Administration. I hate to think how many senior classes, even at my old school have probably not had the wonderful, carefree feeling of a Class Day in recent years because the demeanor of today’s kids is so different. Simple pleasures aren’t enough anymore. For us they were all we needed. – JAW 6/11/99]

The following week was the hectic one, but it was very enjoyable just the same, and has left me a lot of memories.
Sunday, June 5, 1966. Baccalaureate. This service was very meaningful to me, and it brought back a flood of memories about the Sunday School and church services of my younger years. The seniors took part in a wonderfully moving and uplifting spiritual moment led by two or three local ministers. It was a time of thanking God for bringing us this far in our lives, giving us the knowledge we would need for the future and asking for His help in our lives ahead. To accommodate the whole student body and their families, the service was held in the school gymnasium.

Friday, June 10, 1966. Commencement. Boy, that sounded final, even then.
Graduation being at 8:00 P.M. that evening, I picked up Linda and we arrived there at 7:15 and parked in front of the building.
“Lin, as muggy as it is out here, what do you think about leaving the windows down? The car shouldn’t be as stuffy that way by the time we leave.”
“Makes sense to me, Jim,” she said without hesitation. We’d noticed some time ago that we both tended to react to heavy heat and humidity situations.
“OK, honey,” I said as I re-inserted my key into the ignition, flipped it to the first position and pressed all four window buttons on the driver’s door. That’s right – power windows. My folks had purchased a 1958 Rambler station wagon from Wally and Martha Boone, who lived a few blocks away, for $400 and given it to me as a graduation present. This thing was marvelous. Used, yes, but in mint condition. Power everything: windows, door locks, driver’s seat, the works. For a guy, there was only one drawback: it was pink and white in color. But, it was mine (spoiled again!). I turned off the ignition and put the keys in my pocket. I had to report to the cafeteria for lineup practice and to get my cap and gown. Linda’s seat would be in the bleachers (each Senior was only given two tickets for the “better” seating; those went to the parents, as a rule). So far, so good.
I don’t remember how it was arranged, possibly an option parents had through the school at the time the cap and gown rental was arranged, but I had a professional photo of myself in the cap and gown taken before the ceremony.
The ceremony was being held in the gym - the new Olympic-sized gym, then only about two years old. At 8:00 P.M. we began the processional, marching to the traditional “Pomp and Circumstance”. I was hoping they’d use that piece rather than going with some-thing more modern as some schools had done. I was relieved to find they hadn’t changed a thing.
As students and guests listened intently to the speeches of selected seniors and members of the faculty, a thunderstorm unleashed its fury on the outside. As the ceremony progressed, the wind could be heard howling against the outside of the building, the rain pounding relentlessly on all sides.
Soon, the rain began filtering through the two skylights in the gym’s roof, first dripping, then running in small streams of moderate speed to the floor of the room, directly at the head of the aisles down which all 300+ students of the senior class would pass to received their would-be time-honored diplomas.
Somewhere between the ceremony and the storm, my thoughts somehow managed, if only for seconds, to shift to the car, parked in front of the building; and suddenly I remem-bered that the windows had been left down. At the same instant, I knew Linda was in the bleachers. I thought for a fleeting moment that if only she would think of the windows, she would go and close them. It was then that I realized that it would be impossible for her to close them, even if she did get to the car. No, it wasn’t locked; with the windows down that would be useless. The problem was those power windows I’d rolled down when we parked. Those windows operated only when the ignition was on. Even that doesn’t seem an impossi-ble situation, until one considers the simple fact that the ignition key lay in my pocket, and that I was presently located in the middle of those 300+ seniors mentioned earlier, therefore completely cut off from physical contact or communication with Linda concerning the entire matter. Defeated, yet somewhat humorously amazed at the situation (what are the odds…?) I resolved to complete the ceremony first and make the best of what remained. The storm ended about half an hour later.
Then came the moment when we walked up to the podium to receive our diplomas. With the speeches I’d been hearing making me more emotional as things continued, receiving the diploma became, for me, a time of mixed emotions.
The speeches that night brought back many memories of those last 3 years. I may not have been part of the “in crowd” during that time, but on this night I had the same feelings as most of them: it was nice not to have the grind of homework for a while till we hit the college books, but I was going to miss those hallowed halls and some favorite faculty members. Like Mr. Wilson.
That one hit home twice. Once for me, once for Linda. Mr. Wilson had originally said he was stepping down as orchestra director after last year to concentrate on teaching French. I’d been lucky enough to have him reconsider and stay on for my senior year. But Linda would not be that lucky. Mr. Wilson had brought a young man named Dale Swisher on board last year to work with him and learn the ropes in preparation for turning over the reigns to him next year. Linda would play under him, not Mr. Wilson. I figured I’d better be prepared for some tears from her on that one.
The Commencement exercise itself had been very serious and solemn, as it should have been. Near the end of the ceremony, it was customary for the graduating class to stand and sing the Alma Mater. I could not help but let the tears roll as I tried my best to sing that wonderful, moving school song I had happily committed to memory only a few short years before. There I was, getting “sentimental” again.
When the ceremony finally ended, I went to the cafeteria to turn in my cap and gown (they were rented for us through the school) and wait for Linda to join me for the ride home. When she got there we started for the car, going through the building for the last time (for me). I took it all in with this last tour.. The lockers; hers and mine so far apart this past year. The room numbers; 225 was the orchestra rehearsal room. The teachers’ faces I saw in my mind: Mr. Wilson, Mr. Tobin (English), Mr. Benton and his nervous tick with tight collars (Social Studies). The layout of the building; academic wing over here, industrial arts and home ec wing over there, the auditorium and gym added on the far side one year after the original dedication. I knew I had no choice, but that didn’t make it any easier to leave the building that night.
Looking back, those last two weeks of school, between May 20th and June 10th seemed anti-climactic when I thought of all the wonderful things that had happened to me the last part of my senior year. I can remember the feeling, before the year began, of how far off, and unattainable that day of graduation seemed. But here I was, and now, though the first part of the year had gone quite slowly, I found myself with a diploma in my hand, having passed through the doors of Anderson Senior High School as a student for the last time.

When we reached the car, we found that Mother Nature had been busy. Really busy. I said earlier that I would make the best of what remained. Well, we were confronted by:

A windshield that was as wet on the inside as the outside.
A dripping wet steering wheel.
Two-inch puddles in the rear seat footwells,
and….
Every car seat soaking wet but one: Linda’s

Thank goodness for small favors. Her “Sunday dress” could have been a sopping mess.
After surveying the situation for a moment, I politely opened the door for Linda, patiently waiting as she seated herself comfortably on the only dry seat in the car. Closing the door after her, I walked around the front of the car, opened my own door, and seated myself somewhat UNcomfortably behind the wheel. The sensation I felt was identical to that of a person stepping into a pair of sopping wet yet well fitting tennis shoes. Only the water was making its presence known somewhere other than in my shoes. Good thing it wasn’t a tux I was wearing this time!
Wiping the steering wheel and windshield off as best I could, we rode home for a quick clothes change, but not originally on account of the rain. When we arrived, she gave me another “Congratulations, darling!” hug and kiss on the porch.
“See you in a few minutes, beautiful!” I called as I headed for the car.
“You better!” she shouted after me as I pulled away.
“How’d you like the ceremony, honey?” dad called from the family room as he heard her enter.
“It was beautiful except for the rain,” she said, knowing that would get a response.
“What rain? It was in the gym, wasn’t it?” mom asked.
“Yeah, but the storm leaked through the skylights,” Linda explained, heading for the stairs to go to her room.
“Oh, no!” dad laughed as he heard her clambering around upstairs.
“Luckily those were located at the head of the aisles between the rows of chairs,” she continued as she descended the stairs a few minutes later. “The seniors had to be careful walking up and back down those aisles, but that was all they had to deal with. But for Jim and I it wasn’t over yet. Not by a longshot,” she said smiling. She loved having the chance to talk about herself and a boyfriend – scratch that – fiancé – like all the other girls had been doing for years. And she loved having the chance to be one up on her folks and stringing them along a little. That didn’t happen very often.
“ OK, Squeek, let’s have the details,” dad laughed.
“We left all the car windows down when we went inside because it was so sticky out there,” she began.
“Oh, oh,” said mom. ALL of them?”
“Yep. When we got back to the car, the windshield was wet on the inside, the steering wheel was dripping wet and there was water in the back seat footwells,” she finished, almost laughing at the recollection.
“What about the seats?” asked dad.
“Well, there was ONE dry seat left,” she smiled, pausing intentionally. “Mine.” They all laughed.
“I can imagine the way Jim felt driving back here. Physically AND emotionally,” laughed dad.
“Wow!” mom exclaimed. It’s a good thing you can dress casually the rest of the night.”
“You’re telling me!” Linda chirped. She kissed them both and said, “I’m going to wait on the porch for Jim. See you when we get back. I love you.” She scampered through the living room and out the front door.

Having dropped Linda at her house, I sped home to make my clothes change as quickly as possible. As I drove, I found myself wondering how her seat could possibly have still been dry. “It doesn’t make sense. I mean, since her side of the windshield was just as wet on the inside as mine, why wasn’t her seat just as wet, too?” I asked aloud. “That combina-tion should have been physically impossible,” I continued. Then it hit me. “Right!” I shouted. “It’s physically impossible, but not spiritually impossible. “Thank you, Father, for both saving the situation for Linda’s sake, and letting us know You’re watching over us at the same time.” As soon as I finished that prayer, a warm feeling came over me from my head down to my toes. As I felt it spread downward, I sensed it was meant to tell me my prayer had been heard. I was used to those warm feelings by now, since that’s what had come over me before, giving me the courage to tell her I love her, and to propose to her. But this was the first time I’d ever gotten that feeling AFTER an event, as an ANSWER. That made me nervous for a moment, but I knew I liked getting that feeling, and knowing He was there for us, and quickly decided I’d like to get used to that in our life together. But I’d have to wait and see if it would continue to happen. Arriving home and bringing the car to a safe halt in the driveway, into the house I flew.
As I was about to leave the house shortly thereafter to pick up Linda again, mom and dad gave me a Polaroid camera as a graduation gift (what is now one of the originals). I did genuinely appreciate it, don’t get me wrong. But at the time, Linda was all I could think about. Appearing, I think, not too interested at the time, and therefore possibly disappointing them a bit, I hurried through the question of how I liked it and managed to reach the door, though it seemed to take forever. "Spoiling me again,” I thought as I left. But that camera was to become very important in our lives later on.
Minutes later I excitedly pulled into Linda’s drive and bounded up the three front steps in two leaps. Eagerly she greeted me with a warm kiss of love, and headed for the steps.
I stopped her, feeling I should at least giver her parents a quick greeting. I looked into that cute, loving face as she held the door open for me to step inside.
She was dressed in dark slacks and a relatively loose-fitting sweater. The outfit seemed designed by her to hide a figure she felt to be unattractive. Oh, but I knew better! After a few smiling words with her parents, we began our journey.
As we walked down the steps to the car, her dad stuck his head out the door and said laughing, "You might want to think about leaving the windows up this time, you two!”
“Told ‘em, huh?” I laughed as we pulled away.
“Yeah, I couldn’t resist,” she said snuggling up to me for the drive downtown.
“I don’t blame you,” I said, smiling. “That’s one we’re going to remember forever.“
“And one we’ll be telling our kids over and over,” she said. “God,” she continued, pausing for a moment. “It feels funny to be talking like that. I never thought I’d have the chance to get married, much less have kids,” she said a bit wistfully. As she hugged me one-handed, she said, “I love you, Jim!” and laid her head on my shoulder.
“I love you, too, Lin!” I said with deliberate emphasis.
It was an annual custom at Anderson for the members of the senior class and their dates to embark, after the Commencement exercises, on a boat ride up the Ohio River, to return approximately 3 hours later and enjoy a free breakfast in the high school cafeteria. Thus, the Senior Commencement at Anderson High becomes an all-night affair, with casual dress the order of the day. We shortly arrived at the Public Landing, eager for our night on the town - or on the river, as the case may be.
We made sure the windows were up and the doors locked, and walked down to the boat.
We were seen from the moment we arrived. Everyone looked at us, all smiles, proba-bly to make fun of us after we’d passed by and stepped aboard the stern-wheeler party boat rented by the Junior Class for the occasion.
Each of us had been given a packet of play money and two refreshment tickets when we stepped aboard. Neither Linda nor I felt like participating in any of the games of chance that had been devised, and to this day our money remains unopened, an untouched momento of the occasion. (The funny money and tickets, understandably, were either lost or acciden-tally discarded during one of our later moves to a new apartment. JAW 7/24/00)
We searched and searched, and finally found two deck chairs near the railing on the upper deck of the boat. For some time we simply sat at the railing, admiring the nighttime view as we looked out over the waters of the Ohio.
Then I had an inspiration, and began to tell Linda, in detail, of a dream I’d had the previous night, the content of which centered around our relationship and mutual love; in short, about our future – our lifetime together.
Once I had started this tale of the future, I did not stop until we were in the midst of docking back at the Public Landing. By this time, I was literally hoarse. I had talked very nearly the entire length of the 3-hour trip, upstream and back. Hoarse, yes, but I did have the consolation that I had made this boat trip a very special one for the girl I loved. The look on her face alone said I’d made the trip more than worthwhile for her. She hugged me as we walked back to the car.
Linda’s vulnerability to the effects of colder weather again making itself evident, it was necessary for me to do everything I could at the time we disembarked and headed for the car, to alleviate the uncomfortable feeling the very chilly night air inflicted upon her.
In the car, she huddled up against me as I drove, and I turned on the heat as soon as possible.
Arriving at the school about 5:00 that morning, I held her shivering body to mine as we approached the one entrance open to the seniors. Soon we approached the cafeteria line and found it to be a bit long, though not unnecessarily so. We chatted mainly with each other, though we responded politely when someone else seemed genuinely interested in carrying on a conversation.
The breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs, bacon, doughnuts and hot chocolate. It was quite warm and very much welcomed, even if it was school cafeteria food. (There’s a running year-to-year dialog among the students about the lunches. I’d say the cafeteria food could give Linda’s reputation a good contest in the number of times it was made fun of by the student body.).
As we began the trip home, about an hour later, Linda seemed to be a bit quieter than usual. After the night of the Junior Class play, I knew what that meant.
“Lin, there’s something on your mind, isn’t there?”
“Yes, Jim.” She admitted, but saying no more.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, putting my arm around her shoulders and nudging her to move toward the center of the seat. She did, and laid her head on my shoulder.
“I’m just a little nervous or scared to, honey,” she admitted.
“Trust me, darling. I know it will take you a while to really get used to doing that after all you’ve been through, but I’ve got the patience to wait. You just tell me when you want to. And the same thing applies to anything in the future, ‘cos I’ll always be here. Understand?”
“I’m glad you said that, Jim. Hearing it right now gives me the courage to say some-thing I should have said long ago. I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you, honest; I was just scared. But my biggest problem has been finding the words.”
“What is it, sweetheart?” I asked, beginning to get just a teeny bit worried. I pulled to the curb and shut off the engine.
“When I told you about the epilepsy I wasn’t 100% truthful on a couple things. There’s a little bit more to my seizures than just passing out, and there is one thing you can do to help.”
I put my arm around her again. I sensed she needed the reassurance. “Nothing can change the way I feel, darling. Not now, not ever. C’mon,” I encouraged her. “Tell me everything you need to tell me.”
“I have Grand Mal seizures. The big ones. I move around a little, but not violently, and only for a few seconds. My appearance might scare you a little until you get used to it. That’s why I was afraid to say anything before now. After I stop moving around, I’ll kind of “sleep” for a few minutes before I come to. And when I do, I won’t have the best coordina-tion for awhile, so I’ll be a big klutz when I try and do something right away. I usually get a huge headache after a seizure, so be careful. It gets so bad that it takes three aspirin to even touch it, so I might be a bit cranky and maybe take it out on you. I don’t mean to. Please try and remember that.”
Nervously, she paused, waiting (I think) for a reaction. “Okay,” I said, hugging her lovingly. “If that’s it for the seizure description, what can I do to help?” I asked calmly. I had been determined not to be startled, or frightened by anything she said, and certainly not to appear that way to her.Yet I couldn’t believe how well I’d succeeded in that effort. I actually felt completely calm and wonderfully at peace in dealing with this. I knew immediately that I’d had help in dealing with this, and the Source of that help could have been no other. “Thank you, Lord, for Your loving guidance in helping me to be absolutely sure that she knows that I’m not about to let this be a problem for us. Ever. Amen,” I prayed silently.
Relieved, I think, that I hadn’t been frightened or turned off by that description, she continued: “If you’re around when a seizure starts, try and gently push me clear of anything nearby that I could get hurt on, or move those things our of my way. I won’t feel anything, so you can do whatever you need to do to keep me from getting hurt. Whatever happens, just remember that I’ll always be O.K. Because unlike most epileptics, I don’t swallow my tongue, so you don’t ever have to worry about me choking on it. I bite it and catch it between my teeth. So there’s no real reason for you to be scared or panic. Just watch to be sure I don’t get hurt. Okay?” she asked, obviously a little anxious.
I embraced her completely now, and gave her a long, romantic kiss. “What do YOU think?” I asked, smiling.
“I love you, Jim!” she said, the massive relief she felt showing in a big, broad smile crossing her face. “And I need you so much,” She added, lovingly snuggling up to me.
I didn’t move for a few minutes, except to occasionally give her a reassuring, roman-tic squeeze. I wanted that feeling of security to have a chance to sink into her thoughts. Then the next time she needed to talk would be even easier.
“Lin, honey, I want you to know that it means a lot to me that you’ve been this honest with me. That’s not easy for many people, let alone for you.” I paused a moment, and decided this was the time to do something I’d been trying to get up the courage for for some time. Now it was MY turn to be nervous. “Now it’s time for me to tell you something just as important, sweetheart. Even though you probably never noticed it, I have a very slight touch of Cerebral Palsy on my left side. You may have noticed that my cello is strung backwards compared to Denny’s. Have you?”
“Yes, I noticd that, honey. Is the cerebral palsy the reason? You’re right; other than the cello I hadn’t noticed anything.”
“Yes, darling, it’s the reason. I can’t move the fingers of my left hand as freely and with the dexterity required for fingering the notes. If you look closely I usually have a fist-type grip on the bow with that hand. I can’t lay my fingers out across it for appearance like I should and have any control. When I use the muscles to move the bow across the strings, my fingers all go into a fist to keep a grip on it. So, I bow with the left hand and do the fingering with my right. It’s really only visible when I need a lot of manual dexterity in that hand and don’t have it. I walk with my left foot pointing out to the left a little, too. Pointing it straight ahead makes my leg muscles feel like it’s actually pointing in toward my other foot. I used to wear a shoe brace to bed every night as a kid to try and stretch a tendon in my left heel to help that one. That’s all there is to it, honey. If um… any of this bothers you, or you um… want to call off our engagement, just… say so. I’ll understand. I should have said something before now, but I’ve been trying to get the courage to say it, and find the right time. I’m sorry if I’ve startled you with this, darling.” Like her on the night of the Junior Class play, it was now MY turn to wait nervously for an answer.
“Jim,” she said lovingly, “if you could accept my epilepsy, I can sure accept some-thing that I didn’t know was there about you, too. Especially if that’s all there is to it. Now it’s my turn to say it.” Smiling affectionately and looking me straight in the eye, she said, “I still love you, Jim.”
“Thank you, darling!” I said just as affectionately. I couldn’t have felt more relieved.
“You know,” she confided, “I’ve been doing a lot of praying about our relationship, and especially about being honest. I’d never have had the courage on my own,” she admitted.
“I’ve been doing a lot of praying myself,” I said. Another sudden inspiration. “Sweet-heart, let’s make sure we never lose that honesty. Let’s promise each other, before Him, that no matter what happens, we’ll always be open and honest with each other. I’m more than willing.”
“So am I,” she said, relieved at how good it felt.
“Then it’s done?”
“Done.”
Her kiss was as warm and loving as ever.
“We’d better get you home or your parents will worry,” I said, regretfully breaking up that wonderful embrace. I started the car.
“Unfortunately, you’re right,” she said, adding a romantic smile.
As we drove, curiosity got the better of me. “Lin, would you be willing to talk about the epilepsy for a minute? There are a couple things I’d kind of like to know.”
“Sure, Jim. With you I don’t mind.” Then, a little thoughtfully she added, “Not now. Not anymore.”
That let me know that she knew I would not be frightened off by the subject. Ever. That seemed to relax whatever tension may have still been present. "Have you had it all your life?"
"Not quite. It didn't start until I was 8 years old."
"So...she's only been suffering with it 9 years, not 17," I thought. "But then again that's 9 years too much, and more than enough time to make her as scared as she was of people's reactions, especially mine." Aloud I said, "What caused it, honey?"
"They don't really know in my case, Jim. Everything we've been able to figure out points to my falling off a garage in Norwood when I was three. But physically, they can't locate the spot in my head that's going haywire. Sometimes I really wish they could." she finished, getting a little depressed at the thought.
I put my arm around her shoulders and squeezed her. "Now cut that out!" I lovingly ordered. I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere, even if they never DO find it. I love you."
"I know you do, Jim. I'm sorry. It's just that once in a while I get fed up with having to deal with it all the time. I guess that's another reason your love means so much to me. It's the silver lining in my cloud. I love you with all my heart. Um… I know I haven’t had a seizure when we’ve been together yet. Are you nervous or scared waiting for the first one to happen?”
I could tell she was very nervous about saying that. “Yes, Lin, a little. But the one thing I can honestly promise you is it will not stop me from loving you, whenever it hap-pens.”
“Thanks, honey. I think I needed to hear that just now. I love you!”
“And I love you, sweetheart.”

(Even by the time she died in 1980, X-rays were the only option here that we were aware of, and they didn’t show anything unusual. The CT-SCAN, MRI and EEG had yet to be developed. If only one of them had been… JAW 10/18/99)

Six-thirty A.M. found us on the front porch of her home. I don't remember what we planned to do, only that we arranged to meet that afternoon. Regretfully we parted for those few, yet to us long hours.

Early that afternoon, after she'd had a chance to get caught up a little on her sleep, Linda was sitting in the family room with her parents.
"Well, did you and Jim enjoy yourselves last night?" dad inquired as he took a break from his latest model shipbuilding adventure.
"We sure did!" she said grinning. "He told me all about this fantastically romantic dream he had a couple nights ago. And I loved every minute of it. Makes me wish I could describe things as good as he does. He was hoarse when we got back; he'd talked the whole 3-hour trip. But he sure knew how to make me feel good. It really got my mind off things like his parents for awhile, and I needed that. You were right, dad. As long as I'm honest with Jim I don't think I'll ever have to worry about anything." She prayed silently, "Lord, I don't know what I did to deserve him, but I thank You for bringing Jim into my life. Please show me how to make him as happy as he is making me."
"What about the breakfast?" was mom's question.
"For cafeteria food, it was pretty darn good," Linda said. "And I sure needed that hot chocolate by the time we got there, too! I must have been a real problem for Jim the way I was shivering all the time. Sometimes I wonder how he puts up with me," she chuckled.
"Sometimes I wonder how I did all these years," Dad chuckled, resuming his ship construction.
“Thanks, dad!” she responded, that same humor in her voice.
"Sorry about that, Squeek."
Later that same afternoon, I stopped over for another friendly pool matchup.

Sometime relatively close to that day my dad and I had another one of our little "talks". It took everything my harried imagination could contrive, but I was finally able to reach an agreement with him. I could see Linda one day a week, provided I dated other girls as well. Knowing full well the difference I was making in her life, and therefore how much her happiness depended on me, I reluctantly agreed, my mind both searching for words to show him, and Lin, that my feeling for her would not change even though I dated others, and hoping at the same time that she would understand, even if my words weren't quite right.
Three or four times that summer of 1966, I spent a Saturday afternoon or evening date with a good friend, Marilyn Piepho. We listened to records and tapes, looked at her vacation slides, played shuffleboard on their backyard court, and even worked up piano duets together. But only on the piano duets was I even slightly interested, though I tried to appear very much so. But even then my real heart wasn't in it. I was thinking, each time, of the following day when I would be with my darling Linda.
Linda had gone to "great pains" to indoctrinate me with regard to popular music. It seems she had a rather large collection of records she wanted to listen to after our marriage, and not just leave them tucked away on a shelf. We spent the majority of our Sundays, then, listening to her records, or playing pool, though there were times when we ate out or went to a movie.
One Sunday afternoon as we were listening to some of those records, we had a discussion going, concerning the situation with my parents, mainly to keep our feelings out in the open with each other more than anything else. But we weren't exactly ignoring new ideas.
"Jim, one way for me to win your mother over is to, when we're there for supper, have me help her fix it, and help her clean up and do the dishes. Another way is to be more friendly than I have in the past to her. Jim, sweetie, if I do these things, I could change your mother's mind in a split second about anything she's said against me, and possibly even the way she feels about you going steady. I realize, of course, that I am up against a brick wall as it stands now, but I have to try."
"Lin, honey, I have to admire your effort, and it's certainly worth a try, whenever we can get them to let you in the house. But sweetheart, don't get your hopes up so high that you can't handle it if it doesn't work out that way. I just don't like to see you hurt, that's all."
"I know, honey. I won't. I promise.
On that note we went back to the records.
On another of those Sunday nights together, she had no trouble, for once, in finding words for what she needed to say. As we were on our way to the theatre, she spoke.
"Jim, I want to try and explain how much you mean to me." she began. She slid over next to me and put her head on my shoulder. "Before you came along I didn't really have any friends. All my evenings were either spent in my room, or playing with Cork. Sometimes I'd get to the point where I didn't care if I lived or died, because every day was the same. And I'd hear all these stories at school about how much fun everybody had on their dates, then go home and get even more down because I was missing out on all that in my life. Then you came along; and when you said you loved me, I was on top of the world. That's why I was so frightened when I told you I was an epileptic. I was so afraid that you would walk away I couldn't stand it. Then when you told me that you still loved me, epilepsy and all, it actually, honestly gave me a reason to live. Someone who cared about me after all these years. And even these words aren't showing nearly enough how deeply I love you. Do you know what I'm trying to say?"
Her head still on my shoulder, I slowly pulled to the curb, set the brake, and shut off the engine. I turned to her, lovingly yet firmly embraced her, and said, "Yes, I do, darling. I heard every word. I kind of had some idea of the way things were in your life, and how I was helping to change that, but I don't think I consciously realized just how great a change I was making. I mean I never thought that you ever wanted to die, and that I could be giving you a reason to live. This is almost as hard for ME to believe as my still loving you was for YOU to believe. Now I want to say something, in words, that I hope I've already shown you in other ways. And that is, I'll never back away from you, and I want you to remember that my arms are always open, especially when you need a place to run and hide to feel secure and safe from this crazy world for awhile. I love you, and nothing will ever change that."
She kissed me affectionately as a tear of joy ran down her cheek, then continued. "Jim, I need to say one more thing, while I've got the courage."
"What is it, honey?"
“I've got a lot to learn, Jim. I'm not sure I know how to be the person, the woman, the housewife, even, that I know I should be. But I'm willing to learn if you're willing to teach me. I might not want to believe that I need to learn some of those things, but inside I'll know it. You might have to set up situations where I'm forced to do things for myself, when I'm too stubborn to admit it, but whatever you do, please don't give up on me. I know I can do it, with your help. But don't tell me if you set up those situations, or I'll probably resist them, at least inside. Let me fight my way through them, 'cos that's the only way I'll accept some things, and I want to make you as happy as you've made me. I hope you can put up with a stubborn student like me, teacher," she said, a little humor creeping up now that she had that burden off her shoulders.
"Linda, sweetheart, I'll never give up on you. Any more than I could walk out when you told me you were an epileptic. I'll always be with you. For the best reason in the world. I'm deeply, sincerely and completely in love with you. Believe me?"
"I believe you," she said, both of us remembering that fantastic night last March 13, when she first found out I really cared, and had said those same words in that very special way. One long, passionate kiss and we started off again for the movie.

Occasionally, too, on those Sundays, we would sit down and try to plan the next step in furthering our relationship, within the boundaries imposed by my parents. And sometimes that seemed almost impossible.
What I simply couldn't understand was how their attitude could change so drastically, so quickly. One minute she was welcome at their house as a guest, and the next we weren't even permitted to be together more than once a week. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't get my father to realize the importance in my being around Linda; not only because of the feeling we held for each other, but also because of the change I'd made in her way of life. I even told him what she said that night about not caring at one point whether she lived or died, that I'd actually given her a reason to live. But nothing I said could make him see my point. He simply refused to believe that I could be so right about the first girl I ever cared for, let alone the idea that I could make that kind of difference in her life.
Our final act on those Sundays was to trade notes we'd written for each other during the past week. It passed the time, kept us from feeling cut off from each other, and kept our trust, honesty and understanding alive.
It didn't take much discussion on those Sundays for Linda and I to decide that we wanted to get married just as soon as I turned 21. We'd do it tomorrow; but my folks would never sign.
Another little problem we encountered, about midsummer, was the fact that mom didn't even want Linda to wear my class ring. And she made sure I had it back.
Linda had, however, given me hers to wear, and I wore it only when I was alone in my room, or out of the house. Facing that situation, I decided to save my spending money and buy her a matched wedding ring set. On one of those Sundays we went downtown and she picked it out. Unlike a lot of guys, I got lucky here. Yes, like any woman she would have loved to have the biggest rock we could manage. But the bond of our love meant more than the size of the ring. She knew our finances and she knew the overall situation. And she decided that just having the ring was far more important than the size of the stone. She chose a pair with a price tag of $65.00. Silently to myself, I promised it to her as soon as I could possibly get that much saved up.
About the same time Linda was picking out that ring set (the last week in July), my dad was trying to decide whether to keep a job he had taken with Goodyear, in Akron. He'd been commuting back and forth on weekends for a few months now. My problem was, if he kept it, we moved. If we moved then I couldn't see Linda at all, and I found myself wondering if that idea would affect his decision. All I could do was hope (and pray) that he wouldn't keep the job.
Those Sundays with Linda passed all too quickly, the weeks between always deter-mined to move as slowly as possible. For my birthday in August, she gave me an 8 x 10 of her senior picture. I surprised her and used the occasion to give her a wrist bracelet with my name on it. It too had a dual purpose - reassurance for her and, hopefully, enough conscious recognition on the part of the other students, when she started school that they would back off on the persecution. The inscription on the picture I gave her, reads “To the one I’ll love until the end of time. Take care of yourself. All my love, Jim”. The inscription on a wallet size of that 8x10 Linda had given me read: “To the one I’ll love forever. Take care of yourself in all that you do. Your love and fiancee, Lin. P.S.: I love you.”

Shortly after my birthday, on the 29th, Linda came to my house and we had another nice cozy sing-along at the player piano in our basement as we had done for our own little “cast party” after the Saturday performance of South Pacific.

Soon, the summer was coming to a close. With the season change came mixed emo-tions. I dreaded the fall because it would send Linda back into that school where she was so maliciously abused by classmates. And this time I wouldn't be there to help her out. Yet I welcomed the fall because it meant I would begin my classes in Mechanical Engineering at the University of Cincinnati. Even if M.E. was dad's idea, I honestly did feel I would enjoy it, both in classes, and as a career. Therefore my mind would be quite well occupied during those weekdays between visits with Linda. Wondering, yet hopefully planning, I awaited the coming of September.


This work is taken from "A Once In A Lifetime Love: An Autobiography of Two High School Students", copyright 2000, as yet unpublished, by the same author.