It seemed like a perfectly good idea. A surprise in the form of "mwah" for one Basic Cadet Mike Meeker The Geeker Seeker whom I had been pouring my 17 year old heart out unto in many letters since he left for the Air Force Academy three months prior. But as I walked down the jet way, it dawned on me that maybe Mike wouldn't want to see me. Maybe all of the flirting and talk had been done all within the safe world of letters...handwritten letters from a boy who was never going to have to show up and put his money where his mouth was so to speak. Maybe there was a girl here, a smart, athletic military type girl who he was really fond of and who might be with him and his parents this VERY SECOND. As I made my way down the jet way I thought maybe I was walking into a trap. A trap that looks an awful lot like Mike smoochin' on some other chick. I felt sick. The man who had thrust his Casio watch at me so I would stop asking him how much longer our flight would last, paused and asked me if I was okay. Okay? OKAY? I was so clearly deranged. Obviously, the pot I passed up smoking in high school had somehow seeped into my brain anyway causing me to get on an airplane and thrust myself at some unsuspecting Mormon boy and his parents. No. I'm not okay. Not even close Mister.
But... I gathered myself. I thought of Guinevere, going be burned at the stake carrying with her a quiet dignity along with rad hair all smooth and silky. I summoned the spirit and image of every strong woman I could think of. Jane Fonda in her exercise videos, Molly Ringwald in 16 Candles, Clare Huxtable, Laverne and Shirley, Sigourney Weaver (in Alien of course) and Miss Piggy. I put my shoulders back. I pulled up my knee high nylons underneath my cream stirrup pants. I felt around my hair to make sure it was big and full. I wiped under my eyes to make sure no Great Lash was smudged and I smacked my Loreal colored lips together. It was GO TIME. On wobbly high heels I walked forward and into the throng of people. This was pre 9/11 so there were arriving passengers, passengers getting ready to board our airplane as well as actual people, non-ticketed passengers who came all the way to the terminal to greet people as they got off their plane. I scanned the waiting area. I knew Mike would be in his service dress Air Force uniform along with his mom and dad. Little did I know, this was Colorado Springs and Parents Weekend is only like the biggest weekend of the year and half the airport seemed to consist of Academy cadets in their service dress blue uniforms. But just then, and I swear it happened exactly like this, the crowd divided in two. I know you think I am not telling the truth but I SWEAR the crowd parted in half. And there he was. Hat in hand, literally. I froze. His eyes flickered over and past me, then all of a sudden came flashing back to my face. Green locked onto brown. I smiled. He broke out into one of my favorite Mike Meeker smiles. A big one. Then he was running. To me. I only had to take a step and then fell into his arms. And because this isn't the movies, I immediately started blabbering because I was nervous and I can't shut up when I am nervous.
"Surprise! I'm here. I wanted to surprise you. Your mom and dad know all about it. Are you mad? Are you sure you aren't mad? Is it okay? Are you sure? Surprise! I am so stupid for doing this huh? Are you surprised? Yay for me! Surprise!" He just laughed and let me ramble on and on and on oh...and on. His parents caught up to us. I gave his Mom her prescription which was our cover story for why they were at the airport in the first place. They had told Mike that his Mom forgot her medication at home and that someone was bringing it to her. He just figured it was another family member of a cadet at the Academy who was coming for parents weekend. He never thought it was me. And the trouble with this whole thing was, I had not thought beyond this point. I had only thought through me arriving, surprising Mike and then...nothing. I had enough foresight to book a hotel room and his parents assured me they would drive us around because I wasn't even old enough to rent a car. But apparently, I was old enough to haul my butt four states away to muscle in on their time with their only son who had ever left home. Pretty thoughtful of me don't you think?
We got my bags and as I was repeatedly asking Mike if it was okay that I was there, he just grabbed my hand and handed me his hat. It was the uniform hat that you see the cadets wear. I think it's called a service cap but it looks like a bus driver's hat or like the ones the Marines wear. Inside is a little plastic sleeve where you put your name and rank in case you lose it. But over the identification tag was a picture tucked inside of his hat. The picture was of me. All he said was "Aim, yeah...I think it's okay that you are here. I think it's amazing actually. Stop asking." And I did. And then he held my hand. For the first time. He had white uniform gloves on. Which made this hand holding perfect for me. Because my hands had RIVERS of sweat dripping down them. I always hated holding hands with boys before because when I get nervous my hands sweat. But here was my perfect match. My knight in shining armor with white gloves on that were impervious to my sweat. With a hat. With my picture tucked inside of it. And he didn't even know I was coming. But he thought it was amazing. We walked to his parents rental car and I don't think our feet touched the ground the whole way.
His parents said they'd have Mike drop them off at their hotel and he could take me back to mine and help me get checked in and settled in for the weekend. Mike was staying with them at their hotel but it was full when I went to make a reservation. So I had to book a room about a quarter of a mile away. As Mike's parents got out of the car and we took their place in the front seats his Dad said really loudly "don't hurry back Mike, take all the time you want." But he said it like heh heh wink wink. We all laughed nervously and I remember thinking, I will NOT have these sweet people thinking I am a harlot who has lured their son to her harlot-ey hotel room and is keeping him there doing harlot-ey things. So I piped in " Oh, I'm sure he'll be right back. It's late and I am tired from my trip so if he'll just help me with my suitcases he can be back in a jiffy". Then I laughed nervously, rolled my eyes at how stupid I was and got in my seat and shut the door. Idiot. Just stop talking already. You never shut up. You just yammer on and on. It's like a disease. These were all the things I was feeling and telling myself as we drove to my hotel room. I checked in. Mike carried my suitcases upstairs and into the room. The door shut. I sat down on a chair because I definitely was NOT going to sit on the bed. It was very VERY quiet. VERY VERY QUIET. As in crickets. As in pin dropping, everyone hearing it. ugh. The quiet went on and on and on and on.
Then very sweetly he kissed me. I wish I could say this kiss made my skirt fly up and that angels sang and I knew we would be together forever. But it was just a nice kiss, from a nice boy in a seedy hotel room. And to make sure I sent a clear message to his parents, I promptly sent him on his way. I closed the door of my hotel room and I did a little bootie shake of happiness. Then my eyes fell on a single white glove that had been left behind. I opened the door so I could catch Mike before he drove away and guess what? I caught him doing a little bootie shake of his own. It was cute. I didn't want to embarrass him so I shut the door and kept the glove. I never told him that he had left it behind. I slept with it under my pillow. I still have that glove today. It resides in my top drawer along with my unmentionables.
Happily, to be continued...
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Chapter 10: Surprise...I'm Coming To Colorado!
As late August slowly rolled in, summer continued to heat up. Letters between Mike and I took on a fervent and desperate tone with love now being expressed freely everyday. I remember sitting for hours on my bed in my parents home writing letters to Mike with a pink pen and spraying the letters with Paris perfume. I spent even more hours pouring over every word of his letters to me, often reading them so many times I could commit them to memory. We each decorated the outside of the envelopes and stuck the stamps on upside down which signals that you love someone. I always wrote S.W.A.K on the seal of the envelope even though we had never kissed. For now our kisses would exist in envelope form only. Mike wrote to me everyday and I did the same fore him. Our mailman Jeff often found me waiting by the mailbox in the afternoon heat for him to arrive. I got to know Jeff well during this time. I always had a big glass of ice water or lemonade or a cold can of Diet Coke waiting for him. I guess when you are 17 and in love, the person that delivers you the letters that comprise the only contact you have with your beloved earns that person a special place in your life's priorities. He began delivering letters to my door instead of the box out front often asking how Mike was doing. Mike began writing Jeff messages on the outside of his envelopes and as I reflect on this time, I believe Jeff got a huge kick out of our budding romance. I handed Jeff my envelope of outgoing mail daily, trusting him to get my letter sent on it's way to Colorado Springs where it would be delivered to one Basic Cadet Mike Meeker who was embroiled in his own private hell of basic cadet training at the Air Force Academy.
I registered for classes at our local Community College. Word spread that Amy Oliver was giving up her acceptance to the best journalism school in the country to stay home and go to community college. What a disappointment I must have seemed. But my goals for my life were different. I no longer wanted to spend my life chasing after stories and living out of a suitcase. What seemed glamorous to me just weeks prior now seemed to hold a life full of emptiness. I struggled with this choice myself, feeling like I was letting down the world. My parents, my friends and even my very own self expected more of me than community college. I had dreams of winning a Pulitzer or becoming a Senator or at the very least being shot at in some third world country as I struggled to interview freedom fighters in the jungle. Settling for community college in South Sacramento was a far cry from being a Mizzou Tiger. (University of Missouri where I was going to go) I can't explain why everything changed inside of me that caused me to change directions so completely. It seems like a weakness to attribute it to falling in love with Mike. But none the less, falling in love with him caused me to change what I wanted out of life. And as we fell in love through this exchange of letters I grew more certain with every passing day that my future was to be found with him, despite the obstacles in our path.
And boy did we have obstacles in our path. Different religions, six years of him being in school, being 17 years old, vastly different political views, vastly different views of our goals and ambitions not to mention the little tiny fact that I was absolutely NOT interested in being associated with the Air Force in any way. I had a bumper sticker on my car that said "It will be a great day when schools have all the money they need and the Air Force has to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber." Yeah, I'm pretty sure me being the wife of a young Air Force officer would not be winning Mike any points with his future employer.
During this time I was growing closer to Mike's mom. I was getting to know this large family full of two parents and five younger brothers that I didn't know existed when Mike lived in town. It was about this time that the Meekers had me over for dinner for the very first time. Dinners at my house consisted of my parents and I sitting down to a piece of meat, a starch and a tossed green salad while we discussed our day, current events and family news in a relaxing atmosphere. Then one night in the summer of 1989, I found myself sitting at the Meeker's dinner table. Barbecued chicken was served. At the table sat Mike's parents, five brothers ranging in ages from 16 to 3 years old and me. As we did in my family, we proceeded to bow our heads and close our eyes while a prayer was offered for the food. I have always, ALWAYS, peeked during prayer when my eyes were supposed to be closed. This occasion was no different. My head was bowed but my eyes were open. As Mike's father began to draw the prayer to a close, I saw two forks being raised high in the air in some sort of violent motion. As his father said "Amen" at the end of the prayer, Mike's brothers Ron and Chuck raised their forks high in the air and jumped for the same piece of chicken simultaneously stabbing it with their forks. The other chicken pieces slid from the platter and Ron yelled "BACK OFF CHUCK IT'S MINE!", at which the younger 10 year old Chuck removed his fork from the pierced chicken breast. Seemingly at the same time 11 year old Rick tossed a roll in the air to 13 year old Ken and boys started to spoon and shovel food in their mouths at amazingly high rates of speed. I have never felt more comfortable at a dinner table than I did at that moment. It was like I had always spent mealtime in this fashion, surrounded by eager and hungry younger brothers who peppered me with questions while talking with their mouths full. Chuck was dismissed from the table at some point for giving the most impressive belch I had ever heard up until this point. I secretly wanted to high five him but he was sent away from the table with a stern scolding so I didn't think my admiration for his burping abilities would go over well. Mike's mother blushed as she watched her gaggle of boys lick their fingers and excitedly tell stories to this new guest. I was as much of a novelty to them as they were to me. A teenage girl, sitting at their table who wasn't a cousin was something that had never occurred in the Meeker household until this point. I realize now that they probably had no idea why I was even there. Was I a friend of their brother and son? They had no idea that I was completely in love with Mike at this point. And I didn't let on about that fact either. I just soaked up the dinner chaos with laughter and a wonderful feeling of belonging.
As chocolate pie was being served Mike's parents mentioned that they would be flying out to Colorado soon for the annual family weekend at the Academy. It would be the only time the freshman cadets would be allowed to go off campus and have any free time until Thanksgiving. It would be the first time they got to spend time with their son since June and would be the last time they would get to see him until Christmas. Given that I was 17 and ignorant and apparently raised in a barn I asked if it would be okay if I flew out to Colorado Springs that same weekend to see Mike. Would it be okay if I spent that weekend with you guys? And because they were grown ups and polite they said of course it would be okay.
I begged my entire family of grandparents, aunts, uncles and parents to chip in for a plane ticket for my birthday. Family weekend at the Air Force Academy was on Labor Day weekend and my birthday is September 7th so the timing was perfect. Being 17 and never having booked an airplane ticket, I called a travel agent that my Grandma used for her Caribbean cruise and she got me booked on a Continental Airlines flight to Colorado. Mike's parents and I decided we wouldn't tell Mike that I was coming and we'd let it be a surprise. So as Mike prepared for his first weekend of freedom, I packed my bags to surprise a boy that was not my boyfriend but with whom I was in love with and we would spend this first weekend together while his parents looked on, having no idea of how far deep our emotions had grown by this point.
I remember that I had a layover in Denver. The guy that sat next to me on the tiny plane headed for the Springs was treated to my nervous jabbering about who I was and why I was going to Colorado and how the boy I was going to see didn't even know I was coming and what if he was disappointed I came out and crashed his weekend of freedom and relaxation with his parents and how much longer was our flight? Finally, this kind gentleman in the seat next to me offered to set his digital Casio watch to countdown the minutes until our flight would land. He even took off his watch and handed it to me to hold to calm me down (or so I would just shut up). I stared at the numbers as they counted down the time until our wheels would touch down in Colorado Springs and Mike and his parents would be waiting at my gate to pick me up. Mike's mother takes daily thyroid medicine and had told Mike that she left her medication in California so someone they knew was flying to Colorado Springs this weekend and would be bringing her medication to her. Mike didn't know that the person bringing her medication was me.
Wheels touched down. The door of the plane opened. The jet way was extended to the plane. I grabbed my carry-on luggage and started down the jet way. Holy load of good gravy what the HELL was I thinking? Why was I here? Abort! Abort! Oh no. Oh no. OH. NO.
I registered for classes at our local Community College. Word spread that Amy Oliver was giving up her acceptance to the best journalism school in the country to stay home and go to community college. What a disappointment I must have seemed. But my goals for my life were different. I no longer wanted to spend my life chasing after stories and living out of a suitcase. What seemed glamorous to me just weeks prior now seemed to hold a life full of emptiness. I struggled with this choice myself, feeling like I was letting down the world. My parents, my friends and even my very own self expected more of me than community college. I had dreams of winning a Pulitzer or becoming a Senator or at the very least being shot at in some third world country as I struggled to interview freedom fighters in the jungle. Settling for community college in South Sacramento was a far cry from being a Mizzou Tiger. (University of Missouri where I was going to go) I can't explain why everything changed inside of me that caused me to change directions so completely. It seems like a weakness to attribute it to falling in love with Mike. But none the less, falling in love with him caused me to change what I wanted out of life. And as we fell in love through this exchange of letters I grew more certain with every passing day that my future was to be found with him, despite the obstacles in our path.
And boy did we have obstacles in our path. Different religions, six years of him being in school, being 17 years old, vastly different political views, vastly different views of our goals and ambitions not to mention the little tiny fact that I was absolutely NOT interested in being associated with the Air Force in any way. I had a bumper sticker on my car that said "It will be a great day when schools have all the money they need and the Air Force has to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber." Yeah, I'm pretty sure me being the wife of a young Air Force officer would not be winning Mike any points with his future employer.
During this time I was growing closer to Mike's mom. I was getting to know this large family full of two parents and five younger brothers that I didn't know existed when Mike lived in town. It was about this time that the Meekers had me over for dinner for the very first time. Dinners at my house consisted of my parents and I sitting down to a piece of meat, a starch and a tossed green salad while we discussed our day, current events and family news in a relaxing atmosphere. Then one night in the summer of 1989, I found myself sitting at the Meeker's dinner table. Barbecued chicken was served. At the table sat Mike's parents, five brothers ranging in ages from 16 to 3 years old and me. As we did in my family, we proceeded to bow our heads and close our eyes while a prayer was offered for the food. I have always, ALWAYS, peeked during prayer when my eyes were supposed to be closed. This occasion was no different. My head was bowed but my eyes were open. As Mike's father began to draw the prayer to a close, I saw two forks being raised high in the air in some sort of violent motion. As his father said "Amen" at the end of the prayer, Mike's brothers Ron and Chuck raised their forks high in the air and jumped for the same piece of chicken simultaneously stabbing it with their forks. The other chicken pieces slid from the platter and Ron yelled "BACK OFF CHUCK IT'S MINE!", at which the younger 10 year old Chuck removed his fork from the pierced chicken breast. Seemingly at the same time 11 year old Rick tossed a roll in the air to 13 year old Ken and boys started to spoon and shovel food in their mouths at amazingly high rates of speed. I have never felt more comfortable at a dinner table than I did at that moment. It was like I had always spent mealtime in this fashion, surrounded by eager and hungry younger brothers who peppered me with questions while talking with their mouths full. Chuck was dismissed from the table at some point for giving the most impressive belch I had ever heard up until this point. I secretly wanted to high five him but he was sent away from the table with a stern scolding so I didn't think my admiration for his burping abilities would go over well. Mike's mother blushed as she watched her gaggle of boys lick their fingers and excitedly tell stories to this new guest. I was as much of a novelty to them as they were to me. A teenage girl, sitting at their table who wasn't a cousin was something that had never occurred in the Meeker household until this point. I realize now that they probably had no idea why I was even there. Was I a friend of their brother and son? They had no idea that I was completely in love with Mike at this point. And I didn't let on about that fact either. I just soaked up the dinner chaos with laughter and a wonderful feeling of belonging.
As chocolate pie was being served Mike's parents mentioned that they would be flying out to Colorado soon for the annual family weekend at the Academy. It would be the only time the freshman cadets would be allowed to go off campus and have any free time until Thanksgiving. It would be the first time they got to spend time with their son since June and would be the last time they would get to see him until Christmas. Given that I was 17 and ignorant and apparently raised in a barn I asked if it would be okay if I flew out to Colorado Springs that same weekend to see Mike. Would it be okay if I spent that weekend with you guys? And because they were grown ups and polite they said of course it would be okay.
I begged my entire family of grandparents, aunts, uncles and parents to chip in for a plane ticket for my birthday. Family weekend at the Air Force Academy was on Labor Day weekend and my birthday is September 7th so the timing was perfect. Being 17 and never having booked an airplane ticket, I called a travel agent that my Grandma used for her Caribbean cruise and she got me booked on a Continental Airlines flight to Colorado. Mike's parents and I decided we wouldn't tell Mike that I was coming and we'd let it be a surprise. So as Mike prepared for his first weekend of freedom, I packed my bags to surprise a boy that was not my boyfriend but with whom I was in love with and we would spend this first weekend together while his parents looked on, having no idea of how far deep our emotions had grown by this point.
I remember that I had a layover in Denver. The guy that sat next to me on the tiny plane headed for the Springs was treated to my nervous jabbering about who I was and why I was going to Colorado and how the boy I was going to see didn't even know I was coming and what if he was disappointed I came out and crashed his weekend of freedom and relaxation with his parents and how much longer was our flight? Finally, this kind gentleman in the seat next to me offered to set his digital Casio watch to countdown the minutes until our flight would land. He even took off his watch and handed it to me to hold to calm me down (or so I would just shut up). I stared at the numbers as they counted down the time until our wheels would touch down in Colorado Springs and Mike and his parents would be waiting at my gate to pick me up. Mike's mother takes daily thyroid medicine and had told Mike that she left her medication in California so someone they knew was flying to Colorado Springs this weekend and would be bringing her medication to her. Mike didn't know that the person bringing her medication was me.
Wheels touched down. The door of the plane opened. The jet way was extended to the plane. I grabbed my carry-on luggage and started down the jet way. Holy load of good gravy what the HELL was I thinking? Why was I here? Abort! Abort! Oh no. Oh no. OH. NO.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Chapter 9: Conflicted
So Mike was gone. Gone gone gone. Gone. And he was a Basic Cadet, which meant there was not a chance in Haiti he'd be calling me anytime soon. And he wouldn't be home until Christmas. And he couldn't call until like the end of July. And he left for six years. Which as I previously mentioned that he left for forever in all reality. And I was seventeen. SEVENTEEN. Keep that in mind as you read further.
Before I diverge into how my summer shaped up, I would like to point out that I was gutsy in those days. After Mike left, I thought it would be a good idea that I called his MOTHER whom I had never met and invited her to LUNCH because I thought she might miss her son and after all I missed her son so why not? After introducing myself as Mike's friend and explained that we were exchanging letters and I had news about her son's daily life that we might want to share, she readily accepted my invitation to lunch. I picked her up one sunny day in June. I will remember this day always. Not necessarily because it's the day I met Mike's mom. But because it's the day I met Chuck, Mike's little brother. Right before, he left for the Academy, he got a flat top. It was all the age of Top Gun and flat tops and stuff so it was cool. And as I pulled my awesome celica with no air conditioning up to the Meeker household for the third time in my life, a little version of the boy I missed came cartwheeling across the lawn, flat top and all. My breath actually caught in my throat. The difference was that this mini Mike had blue eyes and mine had green. That's it. He came running up and said "HI, I'M CHUCKY. " I don't remember what I said back. It's like the memory is some dream where it's too bright outside and you don't remember anything but a feeling and a sentence. I remember Mike's Mom was nice and we both ordered spinach salads at lunch. I remember thinking that I missed Mike with all my heart.
And just when I was sure my heart would break and I would write letters everyday until my pink smelly pen ran out of ink and I got writers cramp and ran out of pink rose stationary scented with Paris perfume...I got kind of tired of staying home on Saturday nights. And Kelly was present, in town, and we had a rhythm and a routine and a system and above everything else...he was my friend. And oh, by the way, I had never really told him about Mike. Cuz nothing technically had ever happened to tell. He was just a dream of what might have been tucked deep inside my heart that embodied the absolute pure knowledge that it was never gonna happen. So on I went, with a sincere desire in my heart to give it my best shot with Kelly, the boy who was my best friend and with whom I could talk to about anything...except for this.
We went to visit Kelly's Dad in Utah that summer. We took a road trip in which I still swear we saw aliens in the Nevada desert in the middle of the night. (But that's another story for another time) I remember his Dad was very nice and his brother Dan was a senior when we were Freshman and was present on a night I regret with all my heart in which I dated the spawn of Satan who happened to be his friend. But luckily, Dan didn't seem to remember me. Kelly took me to all the Utah hot spots. Temple square, Sconecutters and the grounds of the Jordan River Temple. I was not a Mormon at this time. I was actually, pretty adamantly opposed to Mormons in general despite my large number of friends who happened to BE Mormons. I can't explain it other than this. That day we walked around the Jordan River Temple grounds, I felt something. I felt a clarity and a feeling in my heart that I know now was letting me know I was beginning a journey that would change the course of my life. I knew two things. My church taught that Mormons were not Christians. I knew that both Kelly and Mike were. So somebody was wrong. It was that simple. Either Mormons were Christians or they were not. And I knew at that moment as I looked up at the white marble of the Jordan River Temple and the sun set to the west and the flowers were in full summer bloom that I would need to find out the answer to that question.
Before I diverge into how my summer shaped up, I would like to point out that I was gutsy in those days. After Mike left, I thought it would be a good idea that I called his MOTHER whom I had never met and invited her to LUNCH because I thought she might miss her son and after all I missed her son so why not? After introducing myself as Mike's friend and explained that we were exchanging letters and I had news about her son's daily life that we might want to share, she readily accepted my invitation to lunch. I picked her up one sunny day in June. I will remember this day always. Not necessarily because it's the day I met Mike's mom. But because it's the day I met Chuck, Mike's little brother. Right before, he left for the Academy, he got a flat top. It was all the age of Top Gun and flat tops and stuff so it was cool. And as I pulled my awesome celica with no air conditioning up to the Meeker household for the third time in my life, a little version of the boy I missed came cartwheeling across the lawn, flat top and all. My breath actually caught in my throat. The difference was that this mini Mike had blue eyes and mine had green. That's it. He came running up and said "HI, I'M CHUCKY. " I don't remember what I said back. It's like the memory is some dream where it's too bright outside and you don't remember anything but a feeling and a sentence. I remember Mike's Mom was nice and we both ordered spinach salads at lunch. I remember thinking that I missed Mike with all my heart.
And just when I was sure my heart would break and I would write letters everyday until my pink smelly pen ran out of ink and I got writers cramp and ran out of pink rose stationary scented with Paris perfume...I got kind of tired of staying home on Saturday nights. And Kelly was present, in town, and we had a rhythm and a routine and a system and above everything else...he was my friend. And oh, by the way, I had never really told him about Mike. Cuz nothing technically had ever happened to tell. He was just a dream of what might have been tucked deep inside my heart that embodied the absolute pure knowledge that it was never gonna happen. So on I went, with a sincere desire in my heart to give it my best shot with Kelly, the boy who was my best friend and with whom I could talk to about anything...except for this.
We went to visit Kelly's Dad in Utah that summer. We took a road trip in which I still swear we saw aliens in the Nevada desert in the middle of the night. (But that's another story for another time) I remember his Dad was very nice and his brother Dan was a senior when we were Freshman and was present on a night I regret with all my heart in which I dated the spawn of Satan who happened to be his friend. But luckily, Dan didn't seem to remember me. Kelly took me to all the Utah hot spots. Temple square, Sconecutters and the grounds of the Jordan River Temple. I was not a Mormon at this time. I was actually, pretty adamantly opposed to Mormons in general despite my large number of friends who happened to BE Mormons. I can't explain it other than this. That day we walked around the Jordan River Temple grounds, I felt something. I felt a clarity and a feeling in my heart that I know now was letting me know I was beginning a journey that would change the course of my life. I knew two things. My church taught that Mormons were not Christians. I knew that both Kelly and Mike were. So somebody was wrong. It was that simple. Either Mormons were Christians or they were not. And I knew at that moment as I looked up at the white marble of the Jordan River Temple and the sun set to the west and the flowers were in full summer bloom that I would need to find out the answer to that question.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Chapter 8: Dorothy got it right...There's no place like HOME.
The time had finally come for Mike to leave for summer basic training at the Air Force Academy and I was no closer to a decision. We didn't see each other much after graduation. He went to Southern California for vacation and I was busy with work, parties, trips and my boyfriend. Remember him Amy? Do ya? Well things were going well and when things are good and I'm trying to get a tan I tend not to change things around a lot in my life. So Mike was leaving. And he wouldn't even get a break to VISIT for six months. But six months was nothing compared with the truth of the matter. He was really leaving for six years. 4 years of college. 2 years for a mission. The Academy has a rule that all cadets must be single and live on campus. It's not like I was going to transfer to the Academy and Mike was bound to stay there. So six years first, then he'd go to wherever in the world the Air Force sent him. Let's face it, he was really leaving for forever. I was distraught but obviously not enough to commit to a long distance relationship and declare myself officially broken up with Kelly and devoted to Mike. He (Mike) didn't push me either. I think he was just as conflicted as me. It didn't make sense to start anything up when we would just have loneliness and heartbreak for a moment in the sun.
So I called him the day before he was to leave and asked if I could stop by. Get ready to control your gag reflex...I had made him a mixed tape that I wanted him to have for the plane. Gross I know. It had all sorts of 80's songs on it about not being able fight feelings and hard habits to break and when I see you smile and I'm going to stop now because I am feeling slightly humiliated that I made a mixed tape of 80's love songs for a boy leaving for college. I am sure I'm not the only person to ever do but it just creeps me out that I made a mixed tape, 90 minutes of power ballads and 80's rock. I put the mixed tape into an envelope with a letter written on flower stationary with my favorite hot pink smelly pen. In it, I told Mike that he had made me feel special and worth something and that I would never forget that. I told him how much I admired him and respected him for going after his dream. I made some dumb flying high analogy that went on and on because he wanted to be a pilot. I expressed my confidence that he would do great in his life and that I wished nothing but the best for him. This letter was my closure letter. Get in, give it to him and walk away, don't look back. So I told him I had something for him to do on the plane and could I stop by? He answered the door. Now remember, there were 5 children, two parents and a grandmother living in this house along with Mike. I have no idea what he said or did to get rid of everyone but we were all alone in that house that day. I now know we were probably not alone, but it sure sounded like it. We sat in the front living room and I gave him the letter and tape. He asked if he could open it. I said yes but please don't read the letter until the wheels of your plane are up. He agreed. He saw it was a tape and asked if he could pop it in the cassette player? "Now?" I asked. "yeah, I just want to hear it." He had some sort of sparkle in his eyes that was making me uneasy. "It's more of a listen to on the plane in your walkman sort of tape." I responded. "Aim, I just want to have some music on while we talk." ugh. "Okay, I guess that's okay." Now I would be horrified that I would have to look at his face while love songs played in the background. Love songs I picked out. For him. On a mixed tape. MY mixed tape. How embarrassing. I could not look at him. This was a bad idea. My hands were sweating. Oh Crap, the first song is starting.
Just then REO Speedwagon started singing I Can't Fight This Feeling Any Longer and I prayed for a hole to open right there in the living room and suck me into it. Then I saw a hand out of the corner of my eye. My head shot up. "I didn't get to dance with you once this year. Can we just have one dance before I leave?" That did it. It never even crossed my mind that we were in his living room and that 8 other people were probably at home and could walk in any moment or that this was so corny it was like a bad 80's movie. I was overflowing with joy and butterflies and love at that moment. We danced one song. My hand in his like they used to dance in the olden days. We weren't plastered together. There was no lip or hip action or any wonky stuff. This moment was 100% G Rated, 100% innocent and one of my favorite memories to this day. The song ended, we looked in each others eyes, he gave my hand a little squeeze and then released me, walked over to the cassette player and stopped the tape. I stood in the middle of the room, speechless for the first time in my life. "Thanks for the tape. I think it's pretty cool you did that for me." My heart was on the floor. It hit me like a ton of bricks. He was REALLY leaving. I had wasted all this time trying to get a tan and figure stuff out and now it's too late. He's leaving and I blew it.
I swear this next part happened exactly like this. I still stood in the middle of the floor where we had danced and this realization that he was leaving tomorrow was sweeping over me. My eyes filled with tears but did not overflow. I could not talk I just looked at him with eyes full and wet. His voice was shaky and tortured "Oh Aim, please don't cry." Two tears spilled over and ran down my cheeks. He walked right to me. I thought for sure he was going to kiss me and I was going to let him and I was going to kiss him right back. Instead, he just brushed both my tears with his thumbs and said "I will miss you. I love you. Know that, always be sure of that. You'll figure it all out eventually and it will be OK. You just need to look over your shoulder and I'll be right there, always. And you'll know what to do next." (Background, Mike was my math tutor in the Fall of senior year. I had Trig and I was getting a D. If my grade didn't come up, student council would be in jeopardy. So I hired Mike to get my grade up. He would come over to my house and teach me Math. He'd stand just behind me as I worked out problems on my own and when I'd get stuck, I'd look over my shoulder and he'd help me out. When I'd get nervous before a test he'd always tell me "It's just like we practiced. And if you get stuck, just imagine looking over your shoulder and I'm there and you'll know what to do next.) I threw my arms around him in a tight hug that he returned and we stood there for a long time. I had tears streaming down my face. Finally, I said "I don't want to let go." And he said "Then don't." But I finally did and I stepped back. All of a sudden, I had to get out of there. It was hot and my head was spinning and my heart felt like it was shattering in a million pieces. I turned around, stuck my sunglasses on. I opened the door and started to walk out but stopped. I was not going to let the last time he saw me be full of tears and regret. I turned around and with a big huge smile on my face I raised my hand up for a high five. He slapped our hands together then held on to my hand giving it a squeeze. "See ya Meeker. Do great, go get em." His eyes now were watery, "See ya Aim. And Thanks."
As I walked away, down his path and got into my car I didn't look back. My tears were dry. I realized that I owed Mike Meeker a lot and at that moment I was so glad he had come into my life. I knew he was thanking me for making him feel good about himself and letting him know he was worth something because it's exactly how I felt about him. I realized that we were walking away more thankful than sad and that I would never forget this kind, smart boy who had taught me a lot about what I REALLY wanted out of life. And it wasn't some life lived out of a suitcase covering stories all over the world for the New York Times. I knew in that instant that I didn't want to live life on the road going 100MPH and having to say good-bye over and over again to the people I loved. I wanted a friend, a partner. I knew in that moment I would not be happy unless I had someone to share my life with. I was not a lone wolf. I could not just move away and leave my family, my friends, in the dust. Just as Mike knew he needed to leave to discover who he wanted to become, I knew in that moment, I needed to stay home. I wasn't going to go away to college. I was staying right here.
So I called him the day before he was to leave and asked if I could stop by. Get ready to control your gag reflex...I had made him a mixed tape that I wanted him to have for the plane. Gross I know. It had all sorts of 80's songs on it about not being able fight feelings and hard habits to break and when I see you smile and I'm going to stop now because I am feeling slightly humiliated that I made a mixed tape of 80's love songs for a boy leaving for college. I am sure I'm not the only person to ever do but it just creeps me out that I made a mixed tape, 90 minutes of power ballads and 80's rock. I put the mixed tape into an envelope with a letter written on flower stationary with my favorite hot pink smelly pen. In it, I told Mike that he had made me feel special and worth something and that I would never forget that. I told him how much I admired him and respected him for going after his dream. I made some dumb flying high analogy that went on and on because he wanted to be a pilot. I expressed my confidence that he would do great in his life and that I wished nothing but the best for him. This letter was my closure letter. Get in, give it to him and walk away, don't look back. So I told him I had something for him to do on the plane and could I stop by? He answered the door. Now remember, there were 5 children, two parents and a grandmother living in this house along with Mike. I have no idea what he said or did to get rid of everyone but we were all alone in that house that day. I now know we were probably not alone, but it sure sounded like it. We sat in the front living room and I gave him the letter and tape. He asked if he could open it. I said yes but please don't read the letter until the wheels of your plane are up. He agreed. He saw it was a tape and asked if he could pop it in the cassette player? "Now?" I asked. "yeah, I just want to hear it." He had some sort of sparkle in his eyes that was making me uneasy. "It's more of a listen to on the plane in your walkman sort of tape." I responded. "Aim, I just want to have some music on while we talk." ugh. "Okay, I guess that's okay." Now I would be horrified that I would have to look at his face while love songs played in the background. Love songs I picked out. For him. On a mixed tape. MY mixed tape. How embarrassing. I could not look at him. This was a bad idea. My hands were sweating. Oh Crap, the first song is starting.
Just then REO Speedwagon started singing I Can't Fight This Feeling Any Longer and I prayed for a hole to open right there in the living room and suck me into it. Then I saw a hand out of the corner of my eye. My head shot up. "I didn't get to dance with you once this year. Can we just have one dance before I leave?" That did it. It never even crossed my mind that we were in his living room and that 8 other people were probably at home and could walk in any moment or that this was so corny it was like a bad 80's movie. I was overflowing with joy and butterflies and love at that moment. We danced one song. My hand in his like they used to dance in the olden days. We weren't plastered together. There was no lip or hip action or any wonky stuff. This moment was 100% G Rated, 100% innocent and one of my favorite memories to this day. The song ended, we looked in each others eyes, he gave my hand a little squeeze and then released me, walked over to the cassette player and stopped the tape. I stood in the middle of the room, speechless for the first time in my life. "Thanks for the tape. I think it's pretty cool you did that for me." My heart was on the floor. It hit me like a ton of bricks. He was REALLY leaving. I had wasted all this time trying to get a tan and figure stuff out and now it's too late. He's leaving and I blew it.
I swear this next part happened exactly like this. I still stood in the middle of the floor where we had danced and this realization that he was leaving tomorrow was sweeping over me. My eyes filled with tears but did not overflow. I could not talk I just looked at him with eyes full and wet. His voice was shaky and tortured "Oh Aim, please don't cry." Two tears spilled over and ran down my cheeks. He walked right to me. I thought for sure he was going to kiss me and I was going to let him and I was going to kiss him right back. Instead, he just brushed both my tears with his thumbs and said "I will miss you. I love you. Know that, always be sure of that. You'll figure it all out eventually and it will be OK. You just need to look over your shoulder and I'll be right there, always. And you'll know what to do next." (Background, Mike was my math tutor in the Fall of senior year. I had Trig and I was getting a D. If my grade didn't come up, student council would be in jeopardy. So I hired Mike to get my grade up. He would come over to my house and teach me Math. He'd stand just behind me as I worked out problems on my own and when I'd get stuck, I'd look over my shoulder and he'd help me out. When I'd get nervous before a test he'd always tell me "It's just like we practiced. And if you get stuck, just imagine looking over your shoulder and I'm there and you'll know what to do next.) I threw my arms around him in a tight hug that he returned and we stood there for a long time. I had tears streaming down my face. Finally, I said "I don't want to let go." And he said "Then don't." But I finally did and I stepped back. All of a sudden, I had to get out of there. It was hot and my head was spinning and my heart felt like it was shattering in a million pieces. I turned around, stuck my sunglasses on. I opened the door and started to walk out but stopped. I was not going to let the last time he saw me be full of tears and regret. I turned around and with a big huge smile on my face I raised my hand up for a high five. He slapped our hands together then held on to my hand giving it a squeeze. "See ya Meeker. Do great, go get em." His eyes now were watery, "See ya Aim. And Thanks."
As I walked away, down his path and got into my car I didn't look back. My tears were dry. I realized that I owed Mike Meeker a lot and at that moment I was so glad he had come into my life. I knew he was thanking me for making him feel good about himself and letting him know he was worth something because it's exactly how I felt about him. I realized that we were walking away more thankful than sad and that I would never forget this kind, smart boy who had taught me a lot about what I REALLY wanted out of life. And it wasn't some life lived out of a suitcase covering stories all over the world for the New York Times. I knew in that instant that I didn't want to live life on the road going 100MPH and having to say good-bye over and over again to the people I loved. I wanted a friend, a partner. I knew in that moment I would not be happy unless I had someone to share my life with. I was not a lone wolf. I could not just move away and leave my family, my friends, in the dust. Just as Mike knew he needed to leave to discover who he wanted to become, I knew in that moment, I needed to stay home. I wasn't going to go away to college. I was staying right here.
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