For Joel and Lauren:
Something happened to me on Sunday, August 6th,
1972 that would change my life forever. It would serve as a watershed moment
that would influence and / or determine all of my future decisions and would
cause me to see things – all things – differently from that moment on. In many
ways the decision I made on that Sunday afternoon would change your life as
well.
I found myself on that Sunday at the United States
Naval Academy. My appointment to that military institution was a big deal,
especially in the little town of McGregor, Texas. It was actually front page
news when it occurred. As far as I know, no one from McGregor had ever been
appointed to a military academy. At the time, only 4% of the Naval Academy’s
applicants were offered appointments, making it the most selective college in
the United States, ahead of Harvard and Stanford.
My first airplane ride took me to Annapolis, Maryland
in early June of 1972. I don’t remember much about the events leading up to
that plane ride, but I remember being pretty scared on the flight – not afraid
of flying but afraid of – well, just everything in general – being away from
family for the first time and on my own. To be honest, I don’t think I started
the Naval Academy application process ever thinking that I would be on that
airplane. I still think, as metaphysical as it sounds, that all of this would
lead me to that Sunday afternoon in the Naval Academy Chapel in August.
The Academy experience was a positive one, in general.
I did well with all of the plebe (freshman) harassment and military training.
At the end of the summer, I was rated first in my company of forty-two plebes.
I don’t have any idea how that rating was accomplished, but I saw everything
there as a personal challenge. I enjoyed the physical and military parts of the
training. I aced most of the intellectual tests, including Morse code and sea
flag identification. I rearranged the cheat sheet that we were given for Morse
code. I wish I had kept it, because plebes from other companies were coming to
me to get copies of my new cheat sheet. All I remember is that I created groups
of acronyms and it helped me to memorize the code.
However, to reiterate, the Sunday afternoon in August
would change my world. I had signed up for a Bible study. My motivation was
probably to get me out of something that I didn’t like doing. Sunday afternoons
were about the only times we didn’t have every minute planned for us. Others
tended to use the time to catch up on sleep, but for whatever reason, I chose
to fill the time. I tackled Bible study just like I tackled everything else at
the Academy. I did all the homework, read all the passages and memorized all of
the verses that leader Jim Truler asked us to do. I stayed after class that day
and talked to Mr. Truler.
I won’t try to explain what happened because I’m not
sure I fully understand it. I had a religious experience. Some would say I was
“saved”, others that I had a “born again” experience. All I know is that once I
was blind but now I see. I felt that I had a super power, a strength that was
not there before. Over the next few months, I lost my zeal for the Academy. I
never really knew what I was doing there, but I was trying to make the most of
my time. After my “experience”, my direction changed. I left the Academy in
February of 1973.
My life still had little direction. I lived with my
parents in McGregor and got a job at a mobile home plant near town. I bought a
1967 Mustang, but I really had no idea what I would do going forward. I coached
a PeeWee baseball team in McGregor, but that is a story for another time. I
attended my sister’s church, College Avenue Baptist Church in McGregor. It was
there that I was baptized. (Side note: There is no college in McGregor and no street
called College Avenue.) It was also there that I was licensed as a minister by
the state of Texas. At some point in that early summer of 1973, a musical group
from Howard Payne College in Brownwood, Texas visited College Avenue and I knew
as clearly as I have ever known anything that my place was in Brownwood. I
applied and was accepted into the Bible Theology program at Howard Payne. I was
suddenly a Ministerial student.
Howard Payne was an expensive school. Where state
universities charged about $4 per semester hour at the time, Howard Payne
charged $34. Once again, I didn’t really plan for the future. I just moved in
the direction I felt was right at the time. I think maybe that’s what I’ve
always done. My Dad paid for my first semester and I know that he had to borrow
the money. There was no talk about what we would do for additional semesters.
As it turned out, that decision was never made.
I pre-registered for all of my classes and my dorm
room. However, as fate would have it, when I showed up in Brownwood on the
campus of Howard Payne College in late August of 1973, I found that all of my
pre-registration had been lost – well, all except the check that my Dad had
sent. In the days before computers were used for college admissions, the loss
of paperwork was enough to make my registration non-existent. Except for the
fact that they had the check and had cashed it, I would probably have been sent
packing. As it was, I was pretty upset, because I was sent to register for
classes and would find that a very frustrating activity. I stood in long lines
to get classes only to find at the end of the line that the class had been
filled and closed. The process was several hours long, but it seemed much, much
longer. I was just about ready to give up, but I really had nowhere to go but
forward.
Toward the end of this very annoying process and
needing only one class to fill my roster, I was told that geology was closed
and that only two classes remained available. One was a PE class and
unfortunately, I had already signed up for a PE class and they would not allow
me to sign up for two. The ONLY other class was one called Oral Interpretation.
I had no idea what that was, but I quickly signed up. I was not happy.
In addition to the registration fiasco, I was told
that I had no dorm room. That paperwork had also been lost. The men’s dorm in
which I had reserved a room was off-campus. I was subsequently given a room in
a wing under construction in the athletic dorm on campus. The athletic dorm
happened to be just across the street from the girls’ dormitory. Though all of
this caused me to wonder whether or not I had made a horrible mistake by coming
to this college, of course I would find that all of these mistakes were leading me to another momentous and life-changing
event.
My miseries were multiplied when I found that the Oral
Interpretation class was in the Drama Department and the class was housed in
the theater off-campus. There was a shuttle bus to the theater, but I chose to
drive the Mustang. I showed up to that class with a really bad attitude. I
didn’t know what I needed, but I knew that I didn’t need a drama class. Like a
typing class that I was forced to take in high school, I knew that this would
be a total waste of my time. (Side note: That typing class has been as
beneficial to me as any other class I ever had
to take.)
When I found the classroom and entered, I saw her. I
didn’t see anything or anyone else. My eyes were drawn to the most beautiful
girl I had ever seen. She had long, blonde hair and wore a short hot pink dress
and white shoes. I immediately sat in the desk behind her. I was scared but not
scared enough. I don’t remember all of the short conversation that we had
before class started, but I know that I asked her name and she said, “Kathy
McDonald”. It was the perfect ice-breaker. I didn’t ask her how she spelled
Kathy but I asked how she spelled McDonald. I was smitten by her then. I am
smitten by her now.
There were only maybe ten or twelve people in the
class. I was way out of my element. The instructor, Professor Armbrister, asked
why we were taking the class. I remember hearing the other class members talk about
radio and TV experience and theater and art ambitions. Except for the presence
of the pretty girl I had met, I was still seething for having to be there. When
it was my turn to speak, I said, “Geology was closed, they wouldn’t let me take
another PE and this class was all that was available.” There was a proverbial
“pregnant pause” in the class. I don’t remember what Mr. Armbrister said. He
probably brushed me off as a bad egg. I don’t know. Kathy would say later that
she was impressed with my honesty, but even then I didn’t really care what
anyone thought. I was mad.
Since she rode the shuttle to the theater, I offered
her a ride back to campus. Another girl intruded and offered herself a ride in
my car and took the front bucket seat. Kathy had to sit in the back. Somehow
before she got away, I managed to get a moment alone with her and asked her for
a date. She said yes. I quickly found a new love for drama.
On the first date, we saw two movies. The first was
called “The Bird in the Crystal Plumage”. After that we went to Sonic and had
cheeseburgers before going to the second movie, “High Plains Drifter”. Ok, I
wish I could say that we fell in love on that date, but we didn’t. Well, she
didn’t. I think I did. I called her the next week for another date. It seems
that her roommate had to wake her up when I called, and she blames her sleepy
confusion for agreeing to a second date – something she said she had already
decided not to do.
After only a couple of months of dating, I very
reluctantly told her, “I think I love you.” She said something like, “Well, I
wondered how long it was going to take you to figure that out.” (Side note: If
we have a “song”, it is probably “I Think I Love You” by The Partridge
Family.) Once again, planning for the
future was not high on my list of talents, and we didn’t really know what to do
next, so we decided to get married. (Side note: I still regret not giving more
thought to a proposal.)
We shopped for a ring in Waco and bought one at Zales.
I think we paid $419 for it, and Dad had to co-sign for a loan. We paid it off
at $19 a month for two years.
We were married on Saturday, June 22nd,
1974 at Calvary Baptist Church in Lufkin. I won’t speak for your Mom, but
marrying her is the best thing I have ever done. I have always been proud to be
her husband, and I am very grateful that she married me. I could not, using my
own abilities and desires, have picked a better life mate.
Believe what you want to believe, but I know that God
directed my path directly to her as though nothing else in all of His creation
was as important as that meeting.
The rest, as they say, is history.
Your Dad
16 December, 2015
p.s. Another side note: I think only your mother and I
know this story. You will understand why I have not chosen to publicize it when
you read it.
Early in my childhood – starting maybe around the age
of five and continuing for several years to the best of my recollection – I had
a recurring dream of a blond-haired girl about my own age. I think that it
might be unusual for a five-year-old boy to dream about a five-year-old girl
and, if he had such a dream, that it might not be a pleasant experience. I
remember those dreams today only vaguely, but I remember being filled with a
sense of calm and peace. Being with the un-named girl in my dreams seemed
natural and gave me a feeling of warmth. Even at that age, I looked forward to
the dreams. Of course, I was too young to see any significance in the dreams,
and I never voiced them to anyone.
Shortly after your Mom and I married, we were at
Memaw’s house on Duncan Street in Lufkin, sitting in a closet in a bedroom
looking at old family photographs. Your Aunt Judy was there and the three of us
were sitting on the floor of the closet. When I saw the picture of your Mom at
about five years old, my heart began to pound and I felt dizzy for a moment. Then
that same sense of warmth from years past flooded over me.
The little girl with curly blonde hair in that picture
was the same little girl from my childhood dreams.
Believe what you will…
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