Chapter 7: The Pressure Mounts

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Pressure Mounts


My orientation session at U.C. not getting underway until the last week of September, I found it necessary to keep myself occupied during the day to pass the time while my sisters, as well as Linda, were in school.
This wasn't really too difficult a task. After all - I did have the piano, the stereo turn-table and tape recorder, and countless TV programs. I did pretty good, considering.
Orientation week arrived. It was quite interesting with its tour of the campus, lectures and all. It sure helped eat up the time. Now I only had to worry about busying myself in the evenings and on Saturdays.
Then I found that orientation week brought its own Nemesis: an event that would light the fuse to a series of explosions that would rock both families.
Not long after normal schooling got underway, I was told that because of the work involved in and the importance of the major I was taking that I was now not permitted to see Linda at all. That I had to “buckle down and study”. I was allowed to talk with her on the phone, but even that was discontinued the following week. They felt I had become too "emotionally involved" to really concentrate on studying:
"Jim, your mom and I think that you will be able to concentrate better on your schoolwork if you don't see Linda at all. It looks to us as though you've become too emotionally involved to really be able to study properly. So we want to stop it now, before it gets even tougher. You two can get back together, if you want to, after you graduate."
“Dad, not being able to see her is what's going to make it difficult to study. Can't you see that? It doesn't make any difference which viewpoint you use; the result is the same. Let's say you're right and I'm "emotionally involved". Then she has become an important part of my life. And you can't turn that on and off like a light switch. On the other hand, if I'm not that involved myself, then there's still the fact that she depends on me. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I'm giving that girl a zest, a reason for life that she's never known. And I can't just walk out on that. I won't do it! Whether you believe it or not, that's the truth. I can't let her down now. I don't think she could handle it."
"Well, I'm sorry, Jim, but that's the way it is. You're just going to have to stop seeing her for awhile. If she cares enough, she'll be waiting for you, anyway."
At that point, I knew it was hopeless to argue the issue further at that time and I found myself hoping for a better opportunity, sometime when he would be more receptive. “Would there ever be such a time?" I wondered as I went to my room to finish my homework. I knew that because of our feeling for each other, I would find it almost impossible to study WITHOUT seeing her, or at least communicating with her regularly, both to assure myself that she was coming through all this all right, and to continue to let her know, in no uncertain terms, that I still loved her more every day, WANTED to be with her, and was not about to give up. That I meant every word of what I'd told her before - that I wasn't going to give up, that I'd find an answer, a solution regardless.
And I knew, too, that I had to live up to the confidence she had in me, which was very evident in her notes (if we couldn't exchange any other way, we used her mailbox as a drop-off point). The first note she sent me after I told her of the new twist, dated August 8th, 1966, closed with a statement showing that confidence:

That note reads:
“P.S. I love you. One day a week shouldn’t be too much
to ask of your family. Fight for it, Jim. In the end, you’ll win.
I know I’m right. You’ve got to start getting some independence now. Hugs and kisses.
Love,
Lin

" ‘Roll with the punches’ indeed!” I said to myself, as I remembered saying those very same words to her after my first confrontation with my parents over our relationship. So, I went underground.
My two closest friends, Dennis and Don, were now attending Bowling Green State University, Bowling Green, Ohio, and frequently came home on vacations and many weekends. Dennis Atkinson was the one who’d waited in the cafeteria with us, and ultimately went to the school office to check on those rented tuxedos that never arrived – the day I proposed to Linda. He and I had known each other all the way through high school.
Don Loheide was a friend I’d had since elementary school in Norwood. He and his family moved up here in time for our junior year. So, the three of us had actually been fortu-nate enough to graduate together.

The three of us had been practically inseparable through the last two years of high school. They hadn't gone that much for the popular ways either, but they, at least, hadn't been spoiled like I was. And you couldn’t find two more reliable and trustworthy friends in the world. I’d told them both about our engagement within a week of that night. And tonight, I just had to talk to someone about this latest ‘development’ before it drove me crazy.
We had always been the somewhat "carefree" type when together. Never rowdy; all of us had more respect for others, and ourselves than to be like that.
Our definition of "carefree" meant simply not mixing business (school) with pleasure (taking a break from everyday drudgery and seeing a movie or eating out at Frisch's Big Boy). Just spending these weekends and vacations together was "getting away from it all" for us. On one such weekend, hoping it would not be viewed as contrary to our "carefree" attitude, I carefully brought up the problem. I had known both of them plenty long enough to know that they, at least, could be completely trusted.
"Hey, guys, I hate to break our terrific mood here, but I need to talk about a serious problem for a minute. I'm hoping you guys can give me some ideas for a solution."
"Shoot," said Dennis.
"I told you guys how I could only see Linda one day a week, didn't I?"
"Yeah," said Don. "And we still think that's totally unfair. You should be able to de-cide who you see and who you don't."
"That's right," Dennis affirmed. I was always raised to respect my elders, and I some-times thought my dad was more straight-laced than yours. But my dad respects my right to make my own decisions. And from what you've told us in the past, I think I’ve got the better deal. So. What's the problem?"
"Now I'm not supposed to see her at all. I can't even talk to her on the phone. I'm sup-posed to 'buckle down and study'."
"Bullshit!" Don exclaimed. "Can't they see you're going to be too worried about her to be able to study like that?"
“No, that's my problem, fellas. I need a way to see her, or at least keep in touch with her, even if it's just to let her know I'm not about to give up."
"I can see that." Dennis injected. "I've seen you two together often enough to know what you feel for each other, and how vulnerable she is after all the hard times she's had. How can we help? I figure you've got somethin' in mind, right?"
"Right." I admitted. "I was kind of hoping you guys would handle communications when you're in town. Like on these weekends."
"Hey! Weekends!" Don exclaimed, before Dennis had a chance to respond to my idea. "She's free on weekends, right? And your folks know you're out with us, right? Why doesn't she join us three for a while? How about it, Dennis? Would you mind if we had a couple of lovers in our back seat when we're out runnin' around?"
"No, not a bit! As a matter of fact, I think it's a terrific idea! Do you think she'd go for it, Jim? Or wouldn't it be private enough for her?"
“Oh, she'll go for it, all right! I said, elated that I had two genuine friends who would help out in a pinch, let alone in a way I never hoped for. "Thank you, Father," I prayed, inside. I was careful not to do it aloud, 'cos I didn't know where they stood in their relationships with Him, and I didn't want to rock the boat now. "Listen, guys, I really appreciate it. You two are the best friends a guy could ask for. I promise. We won't get in your way."
"Forget it," they said together. We laughed at the spontaneity of it.
"By the way: we'll be back down next weekend," Don said. "Do you want me to call her this weekend and explain what we've got in mind? That way she could plan on seeing you next weekend. That should boost her morale a bit."
"Great! Please do." I said, excited at the prospect of seeing her, too.
"And don't worry. I'll tell her you still love her," he finished.
I was so excited the rest of the night I almost had to force myself to eat something when we got to Frisch's. I was so keyed up I had no appetite. "Father," I silently prayed, "thank you for friends like these. They're one in a million."
After they arrived that next weekend, Don called about 4:00 that Saturday and said they’d pick me up at about 6:00. I told mom and dad so they wouldn’t expect me for supper.
“OK, Jim. Say ‘hi’ to Dennis and Don for us,” dad said. “What are you guys going to do tonight?”
“Not sure, dad. We’re looking for a movie we haven’t seen that looks like it might be worth the price. Not easy sometimes.”
“Good luck,” he called later as I headed outside when they pulled in the driveway.
“Well?” I asked nervously.
“We have one more stop to make before we hit the movie,” Don said, smiling.
“You guys are the greatest!” I almost yelled. Talk about tension relief!
Within five minutes we were in Linda’s driveway. I practically opened the door before they got the car to a stop when I saw her come running down the front steps. We collided in a happy bear hug.
“God, I’ve missed you, Lin!” I said as soon as she let me come up for air.
“I’ve missed you too, Jim!” she said excitedly.
“OK, you two! Plenty of time for that AFTER you get in the car. Let’s get moving!” Dennis laughed.
We laughed with him and jumped in the back seat.
“I really want to thank you two for doing this for us,” I said. “I… wanted to say that before I got… uh… distracted,” I laughed.
“Same goes for me,” said Linda.
“You’re both quite welcome,” said Dennis. This whole thing with Jim’s parents doesn’t make sense to us either.”
While Linda and I got into the romantic side of things, the four of us tried to decide where we were going to eat. We couldn't have planned a better reunion night. We finally decided to go all out this weekend – to make it Frisch’s AND a movie.
We found ourselves actually able to laugh with them about the whole thing. And I suddenly realized that that's one of the things that made the difference in our lives, and in our relationship. The open trust and honesty we had, and the fact that we knew the other would always be there, gave a depth to our relationship that was unbelievable. We could actually laugh at comments like that, even though the original reason behind it was an extremely negative situation. When we were together we really felt we could handle anything. "Thank you for this fantastically good feeling, Lord. We thank You for these opportunities to be together," I silently prayed as we pulled into Frisch's parking lot.
"You two think you can let go of each other and come up for air long enough to eat something? Or does your current appetite lie in another direction?" Dennis asked, smiling.
“I think so, smarty,” I said, laughing with him.
“I think we can manage that,” added Linda.
I could tell it was a major relief to her to have these opportunities to be together.
"I figured that you two would rather we ate in the car than go inside. Right?"
"Right." I said. "How'd you guess?"
"It wasn't too hard."
"Yeah," Don continued. “Since you two hardly came up for air the whole ride over here, we thought you'd better get some fresh air while you ate."
Linda and I just laughed with them, then kissed each other again, as if to purposely confirm that last assumption.
“Whatever gave you that idea?” I asked. Then I had a serious thought. “Besides. If we go in there, one of my parents’ friends might see Linda and I together and blow the whistle, even accidentally.”
“Good point,” said Don.
Dennis pulled up to a drive-in shelf near the back of the lot. “We’ll stay out of sight of the entrance and the street, too,” he said as he shut off the engine.
We placed our order. While we waited, the conversation covered a lot of subjects, but the problems with my parents seemed to be the big topic. I felt relieved about that, because it gave Lin and I a chance to get things off our chest. That would make the times of separation that much easier, and provide a chance to get some very real ideas on a course of action to take, from two great friends. Friends that might also see things we were overlooking. You know - too close to the problem - can't see the forest for the trees - that sort of thing. I was also relieved to find that Linda felt secure enough to fully open up with them around. I realized then that the back seat of that car could be our best chance at the time for maintaining that totally open, honest and trustworthy communication with each other. That thought was brought home to me shortly thereafter.
We had finished eating and were on our way to the theatre. After a slight amount of courage building, Linda spoke during a lull in the conversation.
"Jim, I think we're beginning to find out just how far your folks will go," she said nervously, snuggling up to me. I could tell it was mainly to reassure herself. "Your mom called my parents tonight and said if they let you in the house to see me they'd be charged with 'Contributing to the Delinquency of a Minor'." I must have shuddered a little because she gave me a hug and rapidly added, "But my folks checked with a friend of ours who is a law-yer, and he said not to worry because they can't tell us who can come in our house, so there's no problem." I relaxed. "But I'm really beginning to see what you meant when you said we'd have to 'roll with the punches'."
"They've GOT to be kidding!" Dennis said as he drove.
"I wish they had been," Linda said. "That scared the socks off me till dad got hold of Mr. Moore."
A little while later we arrived at the theatre. We made a point of choosing one that was far enough away from home that we were not too likely to run into anyone that knew mom and dad. Thankfully, the movie that night got both our minds off things for awhile. After what she'd said, we both needed that change of pace. And it must have worked because we actually watched the movie!
During the trip home, things were back to the nutty normal of our group. Dennis and Don talked about school, leaving the two of us to our much needed, morale-boosting romantic endeavors. Of course, we didn't try anything really naughty, though a few times she shifted position and put my hand on her chest or between her legs out of sight of Denny and Don. She whispered that it had been too long since she’d been able to enjoy the feel of my hands in those areas. And I certainly wasn’t going to argue. But, for the most part, Dennis and Don were right - we just didn't come up for air most of the way home.
Those two fantastic friends waited in the car while I walked her to the door, something I hadn't been able to do for a long time.
"We should make this halfway short, sweetheart," I said gently. "It's unfair to make them wait too long."
"I know." she said slowly. "It's just that it's been so long. And I love you so much."
"I know, darling, I know. But remember: with their help we've got a lot more than we ever thought possible. Especially after what you said about the lawyer and all."
"Yeah, you're right. This is an added bonus, isn't it? And we'll have it every time they're in town?" she asked, more to reassure herself than anything else, I think.
"Yep. Anytime they're here, we're going to get together. That was decided before they left town. Don't you worry."
"Okay, I won't. At least I'll try not to. But it's hard sometimes. I get to thinking, 'I haven't heard from him in so long, he might have taken the easy way out and found another girl. One his mother will like'."
"Now you get that notion out of your pretty little head! No way! I'm hooked on you, honey, and I'm not about to let go now! You said in your last note that you wanted me waiting down at the end of that aisle for you. Well, that works both ways, baby! I expect you to be walking down that same aisle to stand by my side. Is it a deal?" I intentionally sounded forceful. Figured she’d like the determination in my voice. And I was right.
"It's a deal!” she said, openly relieved. “Thanks, Jim. I guess I just needed to hear you say it, that's all. You better go. Remember - I love you, and I always will."
"And I love you, honey. And I'll always be here. Just remember what I said when you told me you're an epileptic: 'I love you too much for me to let it make a difference'. And you can apply that to anything that worries you. Understand?"
"Yeah."
“OK, you two, can we get moving? We don’t want to make somebody’s parents suspicious about how late we’re suddenly staying out, now, do we?” Dennis called from the car.
“He’s right, Lin.”
“I know, Jim, but it just doesn’t make it any easier.”
How was I to argue with that when I felt the same way? One more passionate kiss and I ran back to the car. “See you in two weeks,” I called just before I closed the door.
Getting to sleep that night was the easiest it had been in months.

As Linda bounced down the stairs to the family room, her mom asked, "How'd it go, honey?"
"Beautiful, mom. I'll sleep like a log tonight. Now I know I'll never have to worry about Jim's heart wandering because we're not together. He made me feel so good tonight that those kind of thoughts won't bug me anymore."
"Didn't you feel a little self-conscious with Dennis and Don up in front, though?"
"I did a little when I first got in the car, but then I realized something. If Jim is trusting them enough to set this whole thing up with them, then my feeling that way would be useless. And I was right. Dennis and Don are like you and dad. They will help us any way they can. In fact, my joining them was actually Don's idea."
I'm glad it works out so well, sweetie. But be careful. It's still risky, you know. If his folks find out, he'll get a lot of heat."
I know. But his willingness to take that chance is one thing that tells me I don't have to worry about losing him when we're not together." She kissed them both. "See you in the morning. I'm gonna hit the sack. All that necking wore me out," she chuckled as she headed upstairs.
(I mentioned those weekends to Dad as he and I went through the first draft of this book back in October, 1999, and he admitted he’d had NO CLUE. That feels kind of good right now – smile. JAW 7/25/00).

During this period, one of the good ideas I had for keeping her spirits up was when I hit on getting her mind looking forward to a family. One of the notes she sent me through Dennis proved the idea did the job:

“Our children. You say those words look funny in print; it feels funny to write them. But someday it’ll be a reality. I can hardly wait for the day. There’s a bigger day coming before it. Our wedding day.”

In addition to those weekends when Dennis and Don were in town, we also discovered that we could keep in touch by phone, as long as we kept to a timetable. I called her on her lunch hours at school. We started doing it about 12:00 but she decided she’d rather have her whole lunch hour to talk on those days:

“Could you call me at 11:33 at school on Tuesdays and Thursdays? Those few extra minutes mean a lot. We can talk over things for a few minutes longer.”

I had classes the other three days, and I called her every day before I left the campus. The problem with the afternoon call, though, was that we could only talk for ten minutes or so because we couldn't afford any drastic change in my time of arrival at home.

After a while, she became a little frustrated at the short length of those afternoon calls, so we dropped them.
But that didn't matter so much now because, by the middle of September I'd saved that $65.00. I'd had to wait for a chance to pick up the rings when the time it took would be trans-parent to my mother. By the time I'd managed that and had a weekend with my B.G.S.U. bud-dies in town so I could give them to her, it was the first week in October. We had just picked her up and were backing out of the driveway.
"Linda, I've got a present for you."
"I thought you were saving all your money for the rings. I wish you wouldn't put off getting them by getting me little things in the meantime. The ring means so much, I'd rather wait for it, that's all. But I love you for the thought."
"Linda, just shut up, close your eyes and hold out your hands!" I lovingly ordered. Caught off guard by my tone, she did as ordered, holding out her hands as though she expected me to put something IN them. I gently turned her left hand over and slid the ring on, watching her face change from anticipation to sheer joy as she felt the shape around her finger. Obediently, she kept her eyes closed. But I knew she knew. "Okay, Squeek. Open your eyes,” I said without taking my eyes from her face.
Her reaction was immediate. In the space of two seconds she spotted the ring, gave me a bear hug like you wouldn't believe and planted a kiss on me like never before.
"Oh, Jim! I didn't expect it so soon! I was thinking you'd maybe push to have it by Christmas. Thank you!" She gleefully kissed me again.
"Hey, sweetheart. I said as soon as possible. Remember?"
"No."
"Oh. Sorry. I said that to myself when you picked it out. I silently promised to give it to you as soon as I could."
"I love you even more for trying so hard. You knew all along how much it really means to me, didn't you?"
"Guilty, your Honor."
"You, Jim Williamson, are hereby sentenced to life...as my husband," she intoned playfully.
"Congratulations, you two. I guess now it's official. Right?" Don asked, smiling.
“Yep!” Linda said sharply, leaving no room for doubt. A little more quietly she added, “Even if it is still a secret.”
“I know, honey,” I said warmly, putting my arms around her. “But now you have concrete proof that I’m not going anywhere. Right?” I tried to sound encouraging with that statement, but somehow it didn’t feel like it was enough.
“That’s true,” she said, feeling a little better. “I do love you, Jim. You do know that, don’t you?” she asked a little solemnly.
“Of course I do, love,” I said as she laid her head on my shoulder. “And you know how much I love you, right?”
“Right,” she said quietly as we reached the theatre.
Throughout our travels that evening she periodically looked at the ring, rolled it around on her finger, and looked at me with a grin on her face that said it was OK that we had to be quiet about it for now. That having it on her finger was enough.

Bursting to say something, yet wanting to surprise them, Linda tried to be calm as she walked into the house after that time together. “Hi, I’m home,” she called as she made her way through the kitchen to the family room. She quietly joined them at the bar, placing her left hand on top of her right so the ring was openly visible to anyone who looked her way.
“How was the... LINDA!” cried her mom as she spied the ring. “When did you get that?”
Linda just quietly smiled. Now dad was also looking.
The element of surprise was openly obvious in Ginny's face, and voice. And that was just the reaction Linda was hoping for. “Just tonight. Jim and I had picked it out last summer but it took him a little while to pay it off out of his allowance. It was originally going to be paid off around Christmas. He gave it to me on our way to the movie. Isn't it beautiful?"
"It sure is, honey," dad said. Then he added cautiously, “You know you can’t wear it outside the house, don’t you? That limits your enjoyment of it a bit.“
“Yeah, I know. In a way it’s disappointing, because I’d like to shout it to the world, but in another way it’s OK because, like Jim said, I’ve got concrete proof on my finger now that he’s not going anywhere.”
“Ordinarily I’d say we need to be cautious about that, Squeek,” said dad. “But not with Jim. Every time I see his face he’s so wrapped up in you he’s lucky he can think straight,” he laughed. “You’re right – he’s not going anywhere.” They all laughed.
“It limits my wearing it, but not my enjoyment of it," she lovingly corrected him as she continued. "I'm only going to wear it here at home or when I'm with Jim. Don't worry. I know I have to be careful. Just don't be surprised if you see me just sitting and staring at it once in a while, though." she chuckled. "It's still kind of hard to believe sometimes," she continued with reflection. "Eight months ago I just went through life figuring I'd end up an old maid." She paused on that thought for a moment. Then, with the joy of the present returning, said, "And it sure is nice to know I don't have to worry about that anymore! I'm gonna go show it to Cork." With that, she headed upstairs to Little Sister’s room to take full advantage of the only other moment she'd have to show off the ring. At least for quite a while.

Somehow, I managed to persuade my parents to permit me to take Linda to the important dances of her senior year. To us, that meant four dates to look forward to.
Band Sweetheart night came and went. We hadn't danced for a long time, and I was a little rusty. But at least I didn't step on her toes.
Homecoming. As always, the floats were fantastic. If they spent even half as much time on those floats as we did in rehearsal for the musical...well, we could appreciate the amount of hard work and dedication it took to build those mobile flower gardens. We lost the football game, I think. Can't remember for sure. Because we were too wrapped up in each other to worry that much about the final score.
A week later the decision to allow us those dances was reversed. And the big two were yet to come.

One Friday, I’d just walked to my car after a 4:00 class let out, put the briefcase on the seat, climbed in and started it up. I looked up just in time to see another car, in the driving lane next to my space, coming right at me. I braced for impact.
After the collision, I looked up to see the lower half of the windshield view blocked by the hood. I unfastened my seatbelt and got out. From the side, it was obvious. The hood had been folded in half by the impact. The grill was pushed back into the fan and radiator. Anti-freeze was “all over the place”.
It was private property so no official ticket could be issued, but I wanted an official report on file for insurance purposes. When the police arrived, and saw the position of the vehi-cles and the skid marks where mine had been pushed backward since my foot had been on the brake, it raised a question in the officer’s mind.
“Mr. Jackson, from the looks of this you couldn’t possibly have been watching where you were going. What were you doing just prior to impact?”
“Well, officer, I.. uh…”
“Yes, Mr. Jackson?”
“I… was… looking across the street at the girls’ dorm.”
“Un-huh. Mr. Jackson, since this IS private property I can’t give you a ticket for ‘Reckless Operation of a Motor Vehicle”, though I’d like to. What I can, and will do, is include this discussion in my report. That should make it clear to your insurance company that they will have to pay for the damage to Mr. Williamson’s car.”
Needless to say, they paid for the damage. But Linda and I also smiled at the idea of what it must have felt like to him when he had to explain the accident to his wife.

In the first week of November, things got even hotter. It was Friday night, 6:30 P.M. Dinner was over and we'd gone into the living room.
"Jim, did you give Linda an engagement ring?"
The split second that question was out, I decided I'd had enough of this cat-and-mouse game. Suddenly I was tired of all the hassle. My thought was, "They've always said, for gen-erations, that 'honesty is the best policy'. All those thousands of people couldn't be wrong. Here goes."
"Yes, I did."
"When?"
"About a month ago, dad."
"You better go over and get it back," mom told him. "We can't have that."
"What's their phone number, Jim?"
I told him. He dialed.
"What's her dad's name?"
Before I could answer he got through.
"Mr. Hart, this is Jim Williamson. I understand my son gave your daughter an en-gagement ring. I'm afraid I'll have to ask to get it back. Yes, that will be fine. I'll see you shortly." He hung up the phone.
"Can I go along?" I asked, scared stiff yet hoping he'd agree so that seeing me would help her pull through this.
"If you want to, but don't figure on anything."
Silently I got in the car. A few minutes later he was asking ME for directions to her house. I stuck to the "honesty" policy, but also thought, "He's got a lot of nerve." Another moment or two and we pulled in the drive. Dad knocked when we reached the door. George greeted my father and dad walked in. As I entered George solemnly, but affectionately said, "Hi, Jim."
"Hi," I said. I figured that addressing HIM as dad right now would only make things more difficult for me after my father heard it. And I knew George would understand. As close as we were, it would have felt good to say it, too. It was hard, but I let it pass.
George handed the box to my father. Dad looked at them for a moment.
"Where'd you get the money?"
"My spending money." Silently I was thinking, "Why discuss it here?
"Well, we'll put it in the bank." He paused.
"Can I see her?" I asked hopefully, but still scared.
"I don't think it would be a good idea, Jim," George said softly.
It hurt to hear him say that, but only for a fleeting moment. The thought was, “He makes it sound like he wants us to be apart now, too." It just sounded so strange coming from him, as close as we'd become. But immediately thereafter I realized what he meant. One look at me and at the very least she'd come running to me, crying. Worse yet, she might try to get the rings back. And I couldn't put her through any of that. "But why don't I hear her crying up-stairs?" I asked myself. "I guess mom and Cork are with her, trying to calm her down. I'm glad they are as close knit a family as they are. She needs that more than ever right now."
"I'm sorry it didn't work out, Jim," George said as we turned to the door.
I knew he meant only the ring secret. And I no longer cared what dad thought. "Just tell her I still love her," I said as we left.
"I will."
Dad gave me a dirty look as we descended the front steps to the car.
"Why'd you do it, Jim?" he asked as he drove.
"Because I wanted to."
"You know it was a mistake."
I wanted to shout, “NO, IT WASN’T!” But I kept my cool.
Not much was said after we got home. Dad told mom how there had been no problem, that her father was more than cooperative enough. I thought, "Is mom behind this, too?" And ever since dad had asked me about the ring I'd been trying to figure out how they found out. (I was to learn later that Aunt Cindy, whom I had confided in some time ago, had told my grandmother, who had promised not to tell. But grandma could be forgetful. She innocently mentioned to my mother how great she thought it was. End of secrecy.)

After we'd left, dad went upstairs to her room. Mom and Cork had stayed with her while he was downstairs. As he entered she was still lying face down on her bed, her body shaking with deep, tearful sobs.
"Let me talk to her alone for a minute," he said gently. They nodded and left quietly, closing the door behind them.
She knew they were alone now, and she'd always been able to talk to him easier than anyone else; except for Jim, now, that is. So she sat up and tried to calm down enough to talk. But this, too was very difficult for her.
"D-dad, m..mmom said sh..she heard J...Jim downstairs. D-did he say...any..thing b..before...he left?"
"Yes, he did, Squeek. And right in front of his father, too. You're right about him. He understands, he cares, and he obviously wants you as much as you want him." He hoped hearing that would help; and he believed it, too.
"What d..d...did he-say?" she stammered, the sobs less racking after those encouraging words.
"He said, 'Just tell her I still love her', and I said I would."
He said that in front of his dad?" she asked, maybe a little surprised, but already with that feeling of total confidence in Jim returning.
"Yes, he did. And his dad gave him a dirty look, too; and it didn't seem to bother him any either. This guy's got guts, honey. Don't lose him," he said lovingly.
"I won't, dad." she said, now quite a bit more calm than before. "I just can't understand why they'd do something like this. I knew it was a possibility because I knew the ring was a secret. But I figured that even if they found out that they wouldn't stoop that low. What kind of people are they, anyway?" she asked, a bit of anger creeping in now that she'd relaxed.
"I'm not sure; there's no way I can be. But I don't really think that both of them feel that way, honey. It sounds like the things his father says are actually coming from his mother; as though his father wouldn't mind that much, but his mother doesn't want to lose her little boy. Only she's taking it to extremes. But I think Jim saw that tonight, if not before. I sensed tonight that he isn't going to take too much more of this lying down. When you communicate with him, let him know you're behind him all the way. He'll need you a lot more now than ever before."
"I know, dad. And I'll tell him. Don't worry." She paused only a moment. "Dad, he's so good to me. What'd I do to deserve him? All I've done so far is cause him to be hurt, and come between him and his parents."
"Now you know better than that, Squeek. You're giving him something he needs very much. Otherwise he wouldn't feel as strongly as he does about you, and he'd have given up this fight long ago. Remember what I said way back before he noticed you, and you were wondering what we could do about it? I said, 'We may not have to do anything. When he sees you he may react the same way you have been'. And we didn’t have to do anything, did we?"
"No, we didn't, she said thoughtfully, as she fully realized once again that Jim felt as deeply about her as she did about him. That last thought had removed any remaining trace of tears except for one thought. "But dad, now I don't have a ring. And it was so beautiful."
"I know, honey. But isn't the feeling you two have for each other far more important? Sure, the ring's nice to have, and it shows your commitment to each other, but it isn't a neces-sity. People who've been married for years and are wearing rings ten times that size would give it all up to have the relationship you two are building."
"You're right, dad. It'll be hard at first, after wearing it for these three weeks, but inside I know you're right. It's obvious to Dennis and Don, too. They've said so, in their own way. I guess I am pretty lucky at that. I'm okay now, dad. Go on down and tell mom and Cork I'm all right. I think I'm going to try and get some sleep. Good night. And thanks. I love you."
"Goodnight, sweetheart. You're welcome. And I love you, too." He quietly closed the door behind him as he left.

The next day, my father returned the ring to the little shop where she'd picked it out only 3 months before, and deposited the money in my savings account. Communicating through Dennis and Don, Linda and I decided to skip the next couple weekends we would have had, and lay low so I could concentrate on a plan of action.
One of the notes I received through our "grapevine" about then, dated November 16, 1966, confirmed my continued confidence about the strength and openness of our bond of love. Even after having the ring taken back, she knew in her heart that we still had each other:

“Maybe you’ll see why, to me, ‘a promise made is a debt unpaid’. I hope so. Our promise was not to lie. I promised you that, come what may, I’ll always take care of myself. That is a debt unpaid.
I love you so I’ll always mean what I say.
Your loving fiancée, Lin (Squeek)
PS. I love you (until the end of time).

My problem, though, was that she still wanted more contact of some sort between us (not that I didn't), and I also wanted her to be able to enjoy her senior year to the hilt, because each of us only gets one chance like that in life.
All I knew as the weeks passed was that I couldn't leave her hanging like that, with only occasional contact, and the best parts of her senior year yet to come. But I found myself far too upset to come up with anything.
Also during that time I got a pretty good surprise myself:

Tuesday, August 2nd, 1966
“Dear Darling Jim,
Mom told me that she and dad had been thinking about us, and that they both thought that it looked kind of funny with you taking your ring back and keeping mine too. She said she wanted me to get it back and wear it except for when we have a date. She also said that this
wasn’t to change my feeling about you or anything but she just didn’t want it to look so funny.”
Needless to say I gave her back her class ring. The day we were together long enough to do that, I sat next to her on the couch, stared at it on her finger, and thought, "It should be on my finger right now." Three or four times that day I almost walked out. I came within an inch each time. It hurt so much, I almost cried to think her parents would pull the same stunt mine already had. But that was just it. She wasn't really asking for it, her mother was. That's what kept me there. Only I wasn't quite sure why she went along with it. Unless she was too afraid of them not to. Because she and I didn't really care what other people thought. We felt that as long as we had the right relationship with each other, and the Lord, nothing else mattered. It was obvious her parents couldn't understand that. My thought at the moment was: "Just because my mother made sure I had my class ring they had to do the same thing?" I found myself wishing, later, that I'd had the guts to leave. Only I knew just as well that I couldn't hold her accountable for her parents' actions any more than I wanted to be held so for mine. So I was glad at the same time that I hadn't been able to get up the courage and walk out. And what topped it all off was I loved her too much to do it. But to this day I've never been able to bring myself to thoroughly forgive her parents for that one.
Like all the others, though, even that letter contained the humor that we needed to see us through the trying times, and ended with the ever-present confidence that we’d survive it all in the end. Witness that humor when she tells me she told Cork about an idea she had for our first house:

This part of that same August 2nd, 1966 reads:
“Well, anyhow, I told Cork about our house, and she thought the idea was wonderful. She likes the idea of having the car go up and down on a lift.”

And here, witness that ever-present confidence that we’d ultimately succeed:

The end of that same letter read:
“Well, I want you to take care of ourself. I want you standing down there at the other end of
that aisle waiting for me.
Love forever,
Lin
PS. I love you. All my loving forever. Hugs and kisses.”

The coming of December brought with it thoughts of her Christmas Formal. The second greatest dance of her senior year. I knew there was no way I could get my parents to let me take her now; but, through Don, I told her to be ready with a dress in case I came up with something.
Two weeks before the Formal I stopped, with Don, to see an old Anderson classmate of ours, Jim Kenner. I'd given him a couple rides to U.C. when his car was uncooperative. We only stayed a few minutes, but it was the most important few minutes I'd spent in a long time.

The night of the Formal, Jim called me and asked if I wanted to see a movie at one of the fancier theatres in town. (The Times. Part of the Aronoff Center for the Arts is now on this site. JAW 7/25/00). I took him up on the offer within earshot of my mother (I had also let her answer all phone calls to be sure she answered this one). Then I went to my room to change. Feeling a tie might seem a bit much to mom, for a movie, I put it in my pocket for later. She stopped in my room just as I was combing my hair, ready to go.
"What's that bulge in your pocket, Jim?"
"Just my tie. I thought I'd put it on later."
"Why wait? You might as well put it on now."
Since she had seen it, I did. "To argue the point would have made her suspicious," I thought as I went to the car.
"Now don't you go near Linda's or the school," she warned.
"I won't, mother," I said, intentionally sounding childish.
So far, so good. I eagerly drove to Linda's and picked her up about 8:45 P.M. A few warm words with her folks and we left, arriving at school right on time. 9:00. My only prob-lem was, I couldn't seem to relax. "Remembering the ring," I thought to myself. "Better not let her know you can't relax. It'll spoil the night for her 'cos she'll worry about you," I admonished myself.
After about an hour I was finally beginning to relax. She was having a ball. We hadn't missed a dance yet. Then her dad walked up to us as we danced. One look at him and we knew. Why else would he show up?
"You're dad's waiting outside, Jim." he said quietly.
I was a nervous wreck thinking of what my dad would say or do, but I was more worried about Linda. She'd immediately broken up. She could hardly stand on her own; she was so weakened by the huge sobs that racked her, and the effect of it all. With nearly everyone watching we guided her to the door, supporting her between us. Her sobs had been audible to everyone, but she didn't care. Before we walked through the door I hugged her, firmly, and said, "You just remember one thing. I love you, and I'll be back. We've got a date at the altar. Right?"
"Right," she sobbed, cracking a smile. That smile told me she honestly believed it, and that she knew I wouldn't give up, even now. With that thought in mind, we walked through the door.
As I walked toward the car, I turned to see Linda's dad gently guide her, sobbing as hard as ever, toward his car. I called, "Don't forget. I'll be back." This time her smile was even bigger.
"Get in the car, Jim."
"Yes, sir." I said sarcastically.
"What's wrong, Jim? Why won't you listen when we tell you something?"
“Because this time you're WRONG!" I shouted without hesitation. It felt good not to have to hide anything anymore. We said no more all the way home, though I cried most of the way, as worried about Linda as I was.
On arrival at home I went to my room, closed the door, and began listening to some records. As I listened, I laid on the bed and cried my eyes out. Mom must have heard me. I didn't know for sure because I was wearing headphones to listen to the records. But she stuck her head in the door, so she must have heard something.
"You shouldn't listen to those records if they're going to make you feel like that."
“She's got to be kidding!" I thought. For a moment I wanted to just plain laugh out loud. “I don’t believe this!” I silently shouted. “She actually thinks it’s the SONGS!” That little exchange actually picked up my spirits a bit. Now I KNEW mom didn’t have a clue, and I found myself wondering whether I ever wanted her to have one or not. It was a bit of a mind game trying to decide which way she could be more dangerous.
"Lord," I prayed, "please be with Linda tonight. Let her know how much I still love her, and dry her eyes. Let her know that even though tonight didn’t work and we’re apart that it changes nothing between us. Let her know I still intend to be there at the altar waiting for her. And please give her the courage to wait for me. You know I won't give up, 'cos You're the one who gave me this courage, Father. Please let her know about it..." Before I finished that prayer, I drifted off to sleep. What a way to go!

Her dad slowly walked Linda to their car and helped her in. Once he had gotten in she slid to the center of the seat and laid her head on his shoulder, her body still racked with those massive, tearful sobs. He drove home as quickly as he could.
Once in her room she relaxed only slightly, but that allowed her to cry even more freely and help get the whole thing out of her system. Only it would take more than a crying binge this time.
"Won't....w..wo..won't they ev..ever.st...stop?" she finally sputtered, still crying at the same time.
"They'll have to eventually, honey. This time I saw it myself. Jim was furious when he left. He won't take any more of that, I'm sure. Only now, I wouldn't count on doing anything together until he breaks free. Just so you aren't caught up in something like this again. Even Jim would agree it's better than you suffering like this, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I think you're right. It really hurt him when I fell apart, didn't it?"
"Yes, it did, honey. But I think that seeing that is also what will turn the tide here. I've watched him grow as he fought his way through this thing, and I think he's going to make his move."
"When do you think he'll do it?" she asked. She had the sobbing under control now, but the tears still came, and the subject itself was one she felt she was going to have to talk out right then before she could manage to relax.
"I can't predict that, honey. No one can. It's just a hunch. But his fuse was lit last spring. And every move they've made since then just burned up a few more feet of it. All he needs now is a way to get free. But he has to make the move himself. Let's see if Mr. Moore would be willing to talk to him and give him a lead on how to get out of there. If he will, then you keep his number with you so that when Jim asks about that possibility, if he does, you can give it to him right away. Just remember - Jim has to ask for it. He's got to make the move. I'll talk to Mr. Moore tomorrow about it."
"But dad, what if he doesn't mention it? It's getting harder and harder for me to handle all this. I'm not used to it. That's one of the things I like about Jim. He can already handle most of this now. Not all of it, I know, but most of it. And I can look to him for protection when I'm afraid of something, even now. But I can only do that when I'm with him. It's not knowing how long it will take that's driving me crazy."
"I know, sweetheart. But we all have times like that in our lives. The trouble is, my saying that doesn't make this one any easier for you.”
“Isn't there anything we can do?" she asked, somewhat fearfully, but obviously with anguish and frustration.
"Not really, honey. Not only because he should handle this when he thinks he's ready, but because we don't want to give his parents any more of a reason to make things more difficult. I think they'd use any excuse we gave them. Don't you?"
"Yes, I guess they would," she agreed without hesitation. "And he's got it bad enough now. But dad, that doesn't help enough. I don't really know how to say this, but here goes. I still feel all torn up inside. Like I don't know which way is up. Which way to go. Or whether it will ever stop. Why doesn't he DO SOMETHING?" she finally shouted, a little relieved to let off that much steam. Only now the tears started again. “I guess I'm just feeling kind of frus-trated, or just plain defeated," she cried, again laying her head on his shoulder.
No matter what he said or did, dad couldn't seem to calm her down enough to do any good. The conversation seemed redundant at times, but he knew that she was uptight enough not to notice that much, or she meant to say different things but couldn't find the words. "She always said she could say things better in writing than face to face,” he thought silently.
Eventually, about 2:00 A.M., she had finally worn herself out enough to fall asleep. As he closed the door of her room he decided to see that she wasn't disturbed until she woke up on her own. The long sleep would do her good.

Nothing much was said about any of it the next day. At least not while I was within earshot. A strange silence hung in the air, each of us in the house doing his own thing. But that Sunday, just 36 hours after they'd broken us up at the Formal in front of the whole student body, they got my mind off Friday night in a hurry:
"Jim, I think we're going to have to talk to a lawyer. And maybe Judge Schwartz (then presiding Judge of our County Juvenile Court). About sending you to reform school. You just won't listen. What do you think?"
"Do that! Maybe they can show you how wrong you are!" I yelled. I was half shouting, half crying; from fear, I thought. Next, to myself, it was "If he’s serious, fine. I'll fight him all the way. And if he's trying to scare me, he's got another thing coming. I think it's about time I talked to a lawyer myself."
He didn't say much more. Just mumbled something that gave me the impression that inside he wished he didn't have to do it that way. Judge Schwartz and all. He went into the kitchen and sat down. I nervously went to my room and closed the door. Again. It was then that I realized that I hadn't been crying out of fear. But that instead, with the events of that day, if not the year, I had just then witnessed the total, irrevocable destruction of my personal relationship with my father. And I found myself wondering if he had any inkling that he had just lost something that should mean so very much to any man. Something that had taken him 19 years to build. The friendship I'd built with her father suddenly became very meaningful and reassuring.

My grades through the first quarter at U.C. reflected my state of mind. Some B's, mostly C's, with a "high" D (is there such a thing?) in Chemistry. But my parents still would not buy any of my argument.
In the days and weeks that followed that fateful night at the Formal I managed, through Dennis and Don, to maintain second-hand contact with Linda, either sending verbal messages or exchanging notes. At least she knew I still loved her and I wasn't giving up. Inside I felt like a Russian dissident plotting to overthrow the Kremlin. "What a way to feel about your own parents," I thought, amazed. "I'd have never really thought it possible.”