Chapter 14 Timeline and Next Steps

So on with my life as a college freshman I went, with very little studying, less attending class and more hanging out with my friends and experiencing freedom for the first time in my life. Nobody was taking attendance, nobody cared if you passed or failed and nobody was calling your parents if you cut class. This was not a good combination. Luckily, Mike was 1,000 miles away in Colorado. But I missed him so much. He wasn't allowed to call me but once a week on Sundays. I lived for those phone calls. He would on occasion, sneak out of his dorm in the middle of the night and jog the mile and a half to the nearest pay phone on the Academy in which he would not get caught. These calls came in the middle of the night, with my Dad answering. He was not happy about the middle of the night phone calls. But I lived for those sleepy, slow confessions of love and reassurance. It's no wonder they seem like a dream. I wasn't fully awake for most of them. But I can remember just asking Mike to talk me to sleep and thinking I could listen to his voice forever. He'd hang up and jog back to his dorm room praying the whole way he wouldn't get caught as it would mean extra duty shifts, push ups and revocation of privileges. But I didn't know at the time how stealthy Mike really is. He never got caught. Not even close. So I had some decisions to make. I knew Mike would be coming home in the summer to go on a mission for our church. I knew the local community college was not going to cut it for my education. I also knew Mike would be growing in his faith and religion over the two years he served as a missionary and if I stayed in Elk Grove, I might not. I wanted him to come home from a mission to a me that knew I could do this religion fully. That it wouldn't be constantly him leading me or teaching me. I wanted a firm foundation of what we believed doctrinally so I could discuss it with Mike and so I felt like a real member of the Mormon church, not this impostor who knew next to nothing. Lots of people recommended I attend a college level scripture study course called Institute and get involved with the single, college aged kids from my church. But I just didn't feel good about it. I've always been a "go big or go home" kind of chick so I figured if I wanted to learn all I could about the life of a Mormon college student, I had better go where they were...Brigham Young University. There were 40,000 of them there. Surely, immersing myself in their culture, dogma, doctrine and customs would help me to know for sure if I was cut out to be a Mormon. So I began researching BYU. I had good enough grades to get in during the summer session and then start in earnest in the fall. Mike would be leaving in the summer so the timing was good. It wasn't super expensive when it comes to colleges and my Mom and Dad were actually really supportive of me going to a school away from home and getting the campus life experience. As usual, plans change and things go haywire right when we think we have them all figured out. Mike came home in February from the Air Force Academy to put in his mission papers. He would work and save some money for a couple of months then go out on his mission. Now, I went from a boyfriend at a safe distance away to a boyfriend down the street with entirely too much time on his hands. I was glad he was home but I needed forward motion. I needed to know we were both working just as hard for the same end. I needed to know I could depend on this guy. Mike needed a break before his mission and wanted to use this time to "rest". So yeah, we had a little problem

Chapter 13 Farewells and New Beginnings

The weekend ended wonderfully. Long walks, longer talks and dreams of a life that could happen if we were willing to give up all the dreams we had made since we were 10 years old swimming at the park pool or catching crawdads in the canal by Honey Treat Yogurt. It was so bittersweet. Mike's parents couldn't have been nicer. I think they also understood that we had way too much to get through to make it so they let us live in the fantasy land of picket fences, vacations and Sunday dinners around our own kitchen table. That weekend, I loved Mike enough for what I thought I would need to draw upon in the upcoming months and years. And he did the same. I drank in his face, smile, touch, words. I wasn't sure when I would see him again. Saying good-bye was torture. I have never left Mike with tears. I figure I owed him better than that. I always said good bye with a smile, eye to eye so he could see the love I had beaming back at him and when I had to walk away it was with my head up until... until I rounded the corner and he was out of eyesight. That's when I lost it. Sobbing is a kind word. I cried the whole way to Sacramento and many nights into my pillow. I just missed my friend. I missed my love. I had no idea how many times throughout our lives I would say those two sentences. "I miss my friend. I miss my love." But there was my 18th birthday to focus on and college to start and work to keep me occupied. Having Mike's family close was a blessing. One of the brothers always had to go somewhere at any given time and I enjoyed the one on one time with my newly adopted family. There were dinners, family movie nights, shopping and visiting. I also started attending church with them and taking religion lessons from the Mormon missionaries. I'm not sure why this next part is hard to write and seems to be the block that has taken me so long to keep up with this story. I honestly started learning about Mormonism because I was convinced Mike was trapped by a Satanic cult and didn't know it. My goal was to learn what I could and save him. Instead, I discovered a faith that fit in with what I believed and wanted for my life. I was drawn to Christian principles primarily because I have always had a close and special relationship to Jesus Christ. I learned I didn't have to give that up but instead was encouraged to grow that relationship as well as look upon my family as a unit that will exist forever instead of just in this life. This lead to me being kinder to my parents, making an effort to express love ...all good things. There were things about the church culture and dogma that concerned me but I was determined to take the parts of the religion that I had fallen in love with but leave the rest out. So I made the decision to be baptised and the date was set for November 24th. The backlash and freak out from various family and friends was not expected. It seemed at times I got it from all sides. I don't blame a single person for expressing their concern. I felt it was the right decision for me but in reality I wasn't completely sure. It was true that this path I was taking had potential to alienate me from my non Mormon family members but I was determined it would do the opposite, it would bring us closer. And it did. But it was a hard won fight that would cause hurt and misunderstandings and I did some things right and a lot of things wrong but all in all it went as smoothly something like this could go. My baptism day was held at a church in South Sacramento. Mike flew in from the Air Force Academy to baptize me. We had a song, prayer, an explanation talk on baptism and how important it was and that Christ Himself set that example. When it was time for the baptism, a font of warm water was filled. I would enter from one side down a set of steps and Mike would take the other. In normal fashion, Mike was worried I might slip and instead he slipped and fell into the font which made me feel so much more comfortable. Once I was baptised and confirmed a member of the church I was exhausted! We went home and sat on the couch and listened to Linda Ronstadt's CD she made with Aaron Neville. We just sat and listened quietly. My heart was heavy and full and I was hopeful that this would mean I got to keep Mike. I couldn't lose him and I was willing to do whatever it took. I remember feeling unsure in my skin and also proud of my decision to live a life of religious devotion. Being a Mormon was going to be hard. There was a lot of worldly things I was required to give up. I was determined to be the best Mormon I could be. I was defensive if anyone was even remotely critical of the church. I looked to the older women of the church for my example of what a good Mormon woman looked and acted like. I remember my friend Greg's mom (mother of 11 I think) told me she was so glad I had joined the church because now I could just let all that feminism garbage go right out the window. There were lace collars. And jumpers. Little House on the Prairie scripture covers and women speaking in whispered voices. Blue eyeshadow and pink cardigans with pearl buttons. And children. Children everywhere. Babies crying, toddlers crying, ten year olds with highwater pants and slicked down hair passing the sacrament and teenagers not much younger than me who were referred to as the "youth" where as I was lumped in with the "women" and "adults". There were also kind faces, welcome hugs and a few women; Elaine Devey, Jan Hoyt, Karen Smart, Margaret Haas and Marsha Bownes that I used to look to and say..."there I am. I'll find my way. Some day the real me will fit in." Unfortunately for Greg's mother, the feminism garbage never quite made it out the window. Jumpers, lace collars, pink cardigans never replaced black knit dresses, boots and red lipstick. I never have had a scripture cover and as soon as you could get scriptures on an electronic device I embraced the technology. Whispering? Bwah ha ha ha ha. Not my bag baby. And kids. Yick. Don't like em, unless I love their parents and even then...meh. Eyebrows were raised. I'm sure my future mother in law had her share of explaining to do. But there was one person who just loved the fact that things were getting shaken up and wanted me to always be the real me. Even when I was trying to fit in and be a stereo type of the perfect Mormon, there was one voice who thought it was unnecessary and stupid and kept telling me God made me perfect. Mike truly became my best friend in those early days of my church membership. He stood proudly by when I stuck my foot in my mouth and got cheeseburgers with me when I just couldn't stand not going out to eat on Sunday. He just wanted me. Mormon or not, green haired and blue teethed he still would have proudly stood by and said to me "its so cool you are different." But he was back at the Air Force Academy and would not be coming home until he needed to pack his bags to leave for two years to serve as a missionary. How would I ever navigate this new life without him? How would me, an 18 year old flighty teenager who still wanted to have friends and fun and flirt ever make the longest distant kind of long distance relationship work? And what about all the other stuff in our way? I just kept getting in deeper and deeper and somehow knew in my heart that there would be more tears and goodbyes than reunions and laughter. But how can you leave the thing you love the most in the world? Loving Mike, standing by him, making us work became my cause. Women's rights, civil rights, protecting a woman's right to choose, protecting children and the poor all took a back seat to protecting us. I would do anything to make it work. So I was stuck with tears and good byes. It would all be worth it. Right?

Chapter 12: Life Can Change In 3 Short Days

The weekend in Colorado was magical. Even when I think about it now, it's in soft focus and the sun is so bright it hurts the eyelids of my memory. I have snap shots in my head of that three days. In them I am smiling bigger than I ever had. In them I am more sad than I ever had been. In them, I am a different girl, but so much the same. This weekend in Colorado, it changed my whole life.



We attended an Air Force Academy football game. The cadets sit together in the student section. Mike's parents decided to drive up to Denver in the morning so I was on my own for the big game. I sat in the family section and was "adopted" by several Air Force Academy parents. They knew I was visiting my "boyfriend" and he was a Freshman. It seems such a little word, "boyfriend", to describe what I was feeling. I felt like Deborah Winger in An Officer And A Gentleman except I wasn't stuck in a dead end job or hoping someone would rescue me. For anyone that has ever been to a game at the Academy, you know it's tradition for the Freshman cadets to come down on the field and do push ups for every point on the Academy scoreboard each and every time the home team scores. It was a good day for the Air Force. They scored over 50 points so I got to see those poor Freshman do push ups a lot. And each time, there was Mike doing push ups so fast it made my arms tired just to watch. And after he was done, always after, he would blow me a big huge kiss. He didn't care who saw him or that he looked like a fool and I cared nothing for the good natured ribbing I received from my new friends in the stands. I had my own personal cadet and he was mine for three whole days and I loved him so much my heart was actually pounding. I didn't want to waist a minute.

After the game, his parents picked us up and we went on a tour of the campus. I remember being overwhelmed by it all. I thought about how he would be there for four years. When I added two years to serve a mission for his church, I knew I would need to commit to visiting Colorado Springs for the next six years. And that I would have to take the little bits of time and freedom he had. I remember looking up at the wall in which the honor code is carved in gigantic letters. "We will not lie, cheat or steal; nor tolerate any among us who do." I wasn't sure I could live by that code. Would he still tolerate me? I saw the out of commission fighter jets displayed all over the campus. I saw how serious the cadets were about being cadets. I realized that Mike was committed to something much larger than I had realized. I began to understand that he might not have much room in his life for a girlfriend. I pushed it out of my mind. I would not waste our time together focusing on why this wasn't ever going to work.

We went to pizza and he spent the evenings hanging out and watching movies in my hotel room. Our behavior was G rated...well maybe PG at the most. It was here that I also realized that Mike was serious about his faith and his commitment to his values. I had dated Mormon boys before. Several of them in fact. Some were great examples and some were not. Mike was one of the good ones. We talked for hours about our dreams and about how much we wanted for our lives. I wanted Mike to know that I wanted to be a journalist and a writer. It was important to me that he understood I was not like I imagined the Mormon girls he had known were like, those who wanted to tend hearth and home. It wasn't that I didn't want a family someday, I did. I just wanted him to know I planned to have it all. The big career, the successful family, the wealth and fame that came with all of it. He was just as excited for me as I was. He talked passionately about his desire to be a fighter pilot and how he was so sure it was what he was meant to do with his life. He explained that it would be hard on his wife and kids because pilots were gone so much. I told him how I totally understood because the life of a journalist was exactly the same way. I remember saying "yeah, we're gonna be in the same boat. You'll have to take off to fly on a moment's notice and I'll have to take off for whatever story I am covering in just as big of a hurry. " We joked that maybe we'd see each other behind the battle lines someday in some war torn country. I told him that if he tried to hog the spotlight like he did during the "save our teachers" rally in high school that I wouldn't be so nice about it next time. He laughed. What neither of us said although both of us were thinking is that we couldn't be more poorly matched if we tried. I remember thinking, this guy who was so intent on flying F-16s would not be content making PB & Js while tending my children as I chased down a hot lead about some dirty politician. And he has told me that even though I was talking about a life that would not gel with what he wanted, that he knew he wanted me in his life and he began for the first time to understand that a partnership was built brick by brick. It could be worth it but it wasn't going to be easy. So we hid out in my hotel room and just snuggled and talked and tried our best to paste supportive grins on our faces when the other one expressed dreams that didn't fit into our own one little bit.

Sunday, we went to church. It would be my first Sunday service in a Mormon church. I was so not looking forward to it but went out of respect for Mike's parents and because of not wanting to waste a second with Mike. I will never forget him sliding into the pew next to me and holding my hand. I leaned over and said "I really like your parents. I knew I liked your Mom already but it's been nice getting to know your Dad. He's funny." He leaned over said these exact words. (It's one of those memories I mentioned that seems too brightly lit and in slow motion) He said, "yeah, my Dad said he thinks you're a just a great girl. One of the best he's ever met. He just reminded me that you aren't a member of our church so to remember not to marry you." I felt my face flush with embarrassment. Mike realized he had just stuck his gigantic foot in his gigantic mouth and had hurt my feelings. He squeezed my hand and chuckled nervously. And then he said "I'd marry you tomorrow Amy, Mormon or not if the Air Force would let me. " I pasted the smile back on my face because I knew he meant it but I knew he could afford to mean it because it wasn't even in the realm of possibility. "Good thing for your Dad then that the Air Force has rules against married cadets..." har har har.

Just then, the Bishop welcomed everyone out to church and the service began. I was so grateful for the distraction because nobody would notice the tears that had welled up in my eyes. I knew that tomorrow would be our last day together. I knew I would not be coming back to the Academy to visit Mike as a cadet ever again. I knew I would not marry a fighter pilot. I knew Mike would not marry a journalist. I knew he would not marry anyone who wasn't Mormon. This was never going to work. And in that chapel, surrounded by parents I wanted so desperately to want me and this boy who I so loved, I let silent tears fall for what might have been. Our romance was over before it really started. And my heart was broken.

This chapter is dedicated to Alison Krum, Kori Smart, Amber Meeker, Amelia Snelling, Shannon Hale and Marie Chesley who encouraged me to continue with this story when I really was afraid to go on because the next part is sad and scary to write. Thanks for sticking with me girls. I'm glad now that I have made the decision to go on.

Chapter 11: Colorado Rocky Mountain HIGH

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...

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.

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.

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.

Chapter 7: Camelot

"It was just the shrimp or something". "He wrote a really sweet message in my year book." "I am CRAZY."

All things I told myself over and over in the coming days after the night on the swings and the sharing of my heart. English was awkward. Kelly had NO idea that any of this went down. Senior year was rapidly coming to an end bringing the standard activities of senior picnic, senior sleepover and senior trip to Disneyland. I had planned all along to have a boyfriend for these events. And I did. A great one. Kelly and I attended all of these events together and I gave Mike the cold shoulder at every turn. I even asked him to stop hanging out with us at Disneyland. As soon as Kelly showed up at the senior sleep over I quit hanging out with Mike and spent the night (no not that way) with Kelly. But Mike was always in the background, staring, trying to talk to me, writing me notes and acting like a love sick puppy dog. It really started to get to me. I didn't need some half nerd half flight jock messing up my well laid plans for a great summer. In my stress and confusion, I MADE Kelly watch one of my very favorite movies with me one night. Classic movie, 1968, staring Richard Harrison...Camelot. As we watched Guinevere struggle with her total love for Arthur AND Lancelot simultaneously and how truly tortured she was and sorry for it, I mistakenly mentioned that this movie sort of reminded me about me, him and Mike Meeker. Yeah, it didn't go over well.

He stalked out of the house and I chased after him. We stood in his front yard in silence. "And just who would I be in the story?", he demanded. "Ummmm, Arthur. He's the best. He's King Arthur for crying out loud. Might for right and the Knights of the Round Table." I did my best to point out all of the great points of Arthur who is the single character in literature and movies I love the most to this day. I was starting to think he didn't get it. "But she CHEATED on him with LANCELOT." He obviously did not get it. "Yes, but um...she was tortured because she loved Arthur so much and Mike is ummm...going off to the Air Force Academy sort of like a knight and I love you." (2008 newsflash: I realized the mistake of all this about 2 seconds after these things were out of my mouth) "And she didn't end up with Lance! She almost burned at the stake for pete's sake and she ended up being hidden by nuns with no love forever living with the burden of ending Camelot!!!" I exploded with what a crappy deal old Guinevere ended up with. It still wasn't flying. I ended up driving away, blaring Depeche Mode "I want somebody to love" and sobbing. Here was one of my favorite movies, I was trying to come clean with Kelly and all I got was grief for my efforts. And we didn't even end up finishing the movie.

I called Mike. I asked him to meet me in the football stadium. I would be in the bleachers if he felt like stopping by. (short background info: the football stadium was right behind my house. It was the sight of my many drama moments growing up. It was where I stormed to when my parents "just didn't understand", it was where I ran bleachers after watching Rocky, it was where I went to go and dream and think and be alone. It was my special place.) I skulked to the football stadium, hopped the locked fence and walked alone on the track until I got to the bleachers. I sat down and waited. Either Mike would show up or not. Whatever the case I would take it as a sign.

I waited a LONG time. I could see his car pull up when it did so I would know if he was there. He didn't show. I started to rise to go, half disappointed and half relieved my choice was made. King Arthur it was and I was prepared to go forth with loyalty and commitment. Then, out of the night, I heard some running. I squinted toward the sound trying to see to the other side of the stadium. It was Mike and he was running, running as fast as I've ever seen someone run. And he was headed straight at me. Oh boy...my stomach did flip flops. I guess I had a decision to make after all. (Quick background: Mike was a major track star at school so him running full speed on the track wasn't that weird or anything)

Imagine my surprise when he wasn't even a little bit happy to see me. I figured he would be thrilled I wanted to talk to him again. And we were in MY special place. What was he doing showing off how fast he could run and being all intense and mad? I told him about the whole Camelot thing. I told him that I was confused and scared. This softened him for a moment. Then, all of a sudden he got super mad. "I am LEAVING for the Air Force Academy. Do you get what that means?" Again, a boy was yelling at me for the second time that night. "I have my life planned out. I'm going to be a fighter pilot, I am leaving for school, I am going on a mission. That's six years of plans. I had no plans for you and now I can't seem to want any of it and it just makes me so mad." Secretly my heart soared. But I acted contrite and sympathetic to his plight. In fact, I gave a little rant myself. "Do you think I actually wanted this? I am going to be a journalist. I am going to the best journalism school in the nation. I will then cover whatever story in whatever part of the world I have to. For the New York fricking Times! I have a boyfriend who is great and you as you so accurately pointed out, are leaving." We stood there in silence just locking eyes. I stared at green eyes that normally smiled and crinkled and held joy and interest but now were unreadable and angry. Then, suddenly, those eyes softened. "Well, then I guess we are both screwed because I think I'm falling in love with you." I let out a huge breath that I was unaware I was holding. "yeah, me too." I said softly. "I guess we better walk home." We walked out of the stadium in silence. He tried to help me over the fence but I was a FEMINIST which I pointed out and didn't NEED his help over the fence thank you very much. He just laughed at that. We walked in silence across the parking lot toward our mutual houses. We got to the corner on Valley Oak and Vista Grande Drives where I would go my way and he would go his. "Well", he said. "Thanks for the talk." He just stood there. "Yeah, you too." I said looking at the ground. "Do you know what you're gonna do?" he asked. "Nope." I said miserably, not even being able to meet his eyes. "Okay then. See ya Aim." he said with a half smile. We high fived. Yes I know that is corny. But we always high fived when we parted ways. We still do. As I walked away he called from somewhere in the darkness..."Aim?" I stopped. "Yep?" I said. "I'm glad I at least get to be Lancelot." I smiled with a big grin. "Yeah, see ya Lance." He chuckled and we continued to walk away from each other toward our homes where neither of us would sleep that night.

Chapter 6: The Yearbook Dance Night...

Surprisingly, this whole sit in/riot/protest rally surge of energy didn't last long. The end of the year was coming and along with it Spring Fair, Spirit Days, Spring Break and summer blessed summer. The seniors got senioritus and the rest of the school just sort of moved on to other things. I guess it's really true what they say..."Today's Headlines line tomorrow's trash cans". That's about how it went around our school. There were rumors, break ups, hook ups, fights, parties and Western Festival to focus on. So we didn't have a lot of time to continue our crusade to save our teachers from the oppressive powers that be. The thing that diffused our strife the most was that both teachers were given the choice as to whether they WANTED to transfer as a result of our protest so...mission accomplished. And Ed Skeen was rumored to be seriously looking at other school districts. So Yay for the power of the people and we could all move on to things like the Barn Dance.

Mike continued to sit by me in English Class. And those weird feelings of excitement in seeing him and the desire to be around him didn't go away like I thought they would. I applied Dr. Pepper Lip Smacker everyday before English and we spent most classes passing notes back and forth and completely ignoring the other students and Mrs. Santora's new assignment of Macbeth. Or was it the Odyssey? Or hmmmm....what DID we study? Obviously, what we were studying in English class was not my big concern. However, who I was studying it with was a major focus of my day. Mike had just been given an appointment to the Air Force Academy and I found it so dreamy Top Gun Maverick that he wanted to be a fighter pilot. And that he had a cause. His cause and own personal crusade was my freedom and liberty which apparently he was willing to DIE for. And I am such a sucker for a guy with a cause. I find it more irresistible than power, money, a sense of humor, a nice butt etc etc etc. A do-gooder, who has something more important than their own comfort and more important than me is just asking for me to fall in love with them. Barack Obama BEWARE.

So now what do I do? I had a good boyfriend who I was totally faithful to and even though we had been fighting more lately, I didn't want to break up. Instead, I started doing covert missions to get to spend more time with Mike in order to gauge just where he was at when it came to the Aimster. The depths to which I would sink are shameful. I hid. Behind the bathrooms. Waiting for him to come out of class. Then, I would casually appear as if out of nowhere just as he was walking up. So I was ahead of him. And he had to catch up to ME. So he was all "Hi Amy" and I was all "Oh Mike, I didn't see you there - sup?" (which was my super cool way of saying how are you?") and we would inevitably walk to our next class together, talking the whole way and laughing and reveling in the throws of a crush. This became our regular routine for months. Nothing more than long talks on the way to class, passed notes in English and the growth of a friendship. We started to not want to get to our next class. We found more and more reasons to hang back and become tardy. We might come up with the most clever of plans which involved me needing Mike's help on some pressing student government issue and we would go check in with his teacher and make sure he could take the first few minutes of class to help out the student government. This usually meant I made up some needless banner we needed to hang in the lunch room or books we had to take back to the library. One sunny afternoon, I convinced him to run an errand for a teacher off campus during classes. All in the name of student government. He agreed to every request and I started finding him (by accident of course) after school and gave him a lifts home in my rad 77 Celica. Beige. GT. With no air conditioner.

One day we were doddeling on getting to class and the final bell rang and we were still talking outside of the portables near the Antlerette room and Mr. Cavanaugh walked by and said "Did you guys hear the rumor?" And we looked sheepish because we knew we were supposed to be in class and figured we were going to get busted. "what rumor?" He got that twinkle in his eye and replied "Amy Oliver and Mike Meeker went crazy and went off and eloped and now they are married!" Huh? "harr harr Mr. Cavanaugh. You're such a joker." I said as I licked my lips and wanted a hole in the earth to appear in which to swallow me. "Ha Ha Mr. C. Amy Oliver would never be dumb enough to elope with me." Mike replied. Huh? Our eyes locked. Mike's held humor and mine held all the questions swirling inside me. Like... do you like me in that way? Like really really like me? Are you really worth liking? Do I really like you? Like really really? Is this just a passing fancy? What about Kelly? You are Mike Meeker for crying out loud. I'm not meant to like you am I? But your smile is so cute and you have so much PASSION about life and issues and causes like freedom and the military and I just totally dig that ever since I saw the musical Evita and the character of Che. The Spring of 1989...it was a very confusing time.

The yearbook dance was coming up. I went. I saw Mike. He danced with Janina. Then he left. I just decided to bite the bullet and drove to his house to see if he wanted to grab a bite to eat. After all we were friends, right? I mean, he's probably got to eat. So I pulled up my rad car that my parents blessed me with for the first of what would turn into a million times of pulling up in front of the Meeker house on Elk Ridge Way.

Ding Dong.

Now, I had no idea this house held 6 brothers ages 3 to 18, 2 parents and 1 Grandmother. The door opened. It was Mike's brother that went to our school. "Hi Little Meeker" I said. I'm here to see Mike - is he home? "No, but he should be soon." Ron replied. "Cool." I said. "I'd just like to know if he wanted to go grab something to eat. Can I leave you my number? "uh...sure" and he took down the digits. I got a call from Mike about 25 minutes later asking me if I wanted to go to dinner. I told him I would pick him up. I'm sure that was weird for his traditional, conservative, limited dating self to wrap his brain around. That a girl came to his house. And left her number. And asked him out. And now was driving to his house to pick him up. Go Feminism! We went and got fried shrimp. Don't ask me why. And I paid for dinner. Then we went to a little play ground and hopped on the swings and talked for 3 hours. I have no idea what we talked about. Just that it was on these swings, where I have since taken my girls to swing, under the light of a full moon and a North Star that we fell in love. There was no kiss. No holding hands. Nothing wonky. Just talking and the bearing of our souls. It was a magical night. And I asked him out. And I paid. And I recommended the park. Homeboy had to be lead around by a ribbon in his nose.

So now we were in love. Happy and in love. And he knew it. And I knew it. And Kelly was picking me up in the morning for a day trip to the ocean. So my life sucked as much as it could for a 17 year old girl in love...with 2 boys.

Chapter 5: Forget The Whales - Save Our Teachers!!!

Spring, 1989
Dear Diary,

What to do? What to do? Just act cool and go about daily life and it'll pass right? It will FOR SURE pass. It's just a momentary crush because Mike's been so nice and then he went to senior ball with that hussy. If I just relax, keep things chill and back off, it will totally go away. And besides, I have other things to spaz out about than some guy on the brain. Things are crazy busy with student council, the Antlerette, figuring out what to do about me and Kelly....Oops, gotta go, Cosby Show is starting. I'll write more later....

Spring 1989 - Elk Grove High School

A brand new school, Florin High was going to open next year. It was a new high school down the road that would help my school, Elk Grove as well as Valley High School's overcrowding problem. The first Freshman class would start next year, then the following year would have Freshman and Sophomores, then it would have Freshman through Juniors etc. My student council was being asked to help the new school come up with an activities program plan and a student government structure. Added to that, the district was looking for teachers that were willing to transfer to the new school. Plenty of our teachers had already volunteered. However, we found out in April that our new principal Mr. Skeen was going to transfer two teachers involuntarily, meaning they didn't want to go but he wanted them out. These two teachers were outspoken members of the faculty and Ed decided he could easily and quietly get rid of his little problem by sending them to the new school. After all, the new school needed teachers and he was just doing his part to help the district out.

Well, normally, students don't get involved in these kind of administrative and staffing matters. However the two teachers being transferred were much beloved. One of them was a counselor and was directly responsible for helping seniors get scholarship money. The junior class members were very upset about his transfer because they would be needing his help in a few months to apply and seek out any available scholarship money available in our community. At the new school, he wouldn't even HAVE a senior class to help out as the new school would only have freshman. So it didn't make sense to the students of Elk Grove High why a senior class college counselor would be going to a brand new school where he couldn't even do his job for 3 more years. Upon investigating, it was discovered that both of the teachers were being transferred against their will by the evil fascist dictator masquerading as our Principal, Mr. Skeen.

The students got pretty upset about this. Ed had already made a number of bonehead and unpopular administrative decisions during his first year as principal. This decision to transfer these two teachers became the fuse that would ignite a major powder keg that would blow all over our small town and beyond. Pretty soon, you started seeing home made T-Shirts that said "Forget the Whales - Save Our Teachers". And "Don't Transfer Our Teachers". And "Fight Mr. Skeen - No Involuntary Transfers". The popularity of these T-Shirts grew and pretty soon, you saw similar sentiments being displayed on backpacks, binders, posters and picket signs being carried all over our school. The students attempted to appeal to Mr. Skeen directly and were told he would not discuss this matter with students as it was a faculty and administrative issue that did not concern them. Want to bet Ed?

So, being young and having LOTS of teachers who grew up in the 60's, a protest rally was planned. To say the other teachers were ignorant of our plans is ridiculous. Many unofficially helped in the planning and they certainly egged us on. It was decided that on a certain day, everyone would wear their T-shirts, bring their signs and when the morning bell rang signaling for all to go to 1st period class, that we would sit down in the middle of the quad (the open center section of our school where everyone hung out) and refuse to go to class.

The designated morning arrived sunny and cool. I figured it would be a pretty big day and I dressed for it. I had on black pants, nylons, heels, a hot pink angora sweater with my famous scarf tied just right around my neck making a perfect triangle down my back. It would prove to be a very poor wardrobe choice. The bell rang signaling the beginning of the day and about 80 to 100 students sat themselves down on the steps of the quad and refused to go to class. Now the students who sat were not the "typical" troublemakers and rabble-rousers of the school. They were student council members, class officers, California Scholarship Federation members, cheerleaders, athletes and club members. They were the "good" kids of the school and they were ticked off. I sat down right along with them and was proud to do so. I figured it was Ed's right to transfer these teachers but it stuck in my craw that he wouldn't even meet with us about it. And if he wouldn't talk to us, I figured it was a good idea for us to let him know that his decision was not going to fly. "I won't be ignored, Dan". (name that movie)

So there we were, doing little cheers about saving our teachers and fighting the power when all hell broke lose. The students who had decided to go to class found out about our little protest during the first 10 minutes of 1st period and they came pouring like locusts out of the classrooms. Pretty soon, 100 kids became 500 kids and by the beginning of 2nd period, NOBODY in the 2,000+ student body was going to class, but instead was in the quad. And guess what? I was Student Body President, the protesters elected representative, which made me #1 on the FBI, I mean, Administration's Most Wanted list. Pretty soon, a voice came over the school loudspeaker..."Amy Oliver, please report to the Principal's office immediately." At this moment, I was still having a very good time. My beloved students that elected me started to actually chant "Amy Amy Amy"' as I stood up. I got up and began walking through the throngs of sitting students toward the administration offices amidst high fives and cheers. I like to think I walked with purpose that day, shoulders back and head high, ready to do battle with an oppressive power. I took my Student Council Vice President with me for back up and off we marched to fight the good fight on behalf of our electorate.

Ed was in his office. This time, I wasn't kept waiting for him to get off the phone and I had no time to blow bubbles. He called me right in. His Vice Principals were with him. His face was beet red and little veins were poking out. "Miss Oliver, I suggest you march out there and tell your students to get back to class, NOW". Normally, I intimidate pretty easily. But today, I had the support of the masses and I wasn't backing down. "Mr. Skeen, with all due respect, no. I won't tell them to go to class. They have an issue with your administration and they are peacefully protesting a decision that you made and they have a right to be heard". I felt just like Norma Rae. It was great. He then said, "how do you think they'll feel when I call the police?" Ummmm...now I started to get a little scared. "Well, Mr. Skeen, I'm sure no one would like to see the police involved. I will take your request back to the students but I honestly dont' think they are going to budge." He bugged out his eyes at me and shaking said "well, young lady, you just make sure they do or else."

So out I went back to the mass of students in the quad. By this time someone had gotten hold of a bull horn. Ray Lindsay (a scholar athlete who was known for intensity on and off the football field and who would later be my best man at my wedding) had the bull horn. He came up to me and said "Amy, what did they say." I said "they want us to go back to class." He got on the horn and announced, "The Principal thinks you should go to class." which got a chorus of boos and no ways and Skeen sucks shouted back in my direction. Then I said to my Vice President Bryan really quietly, "do you think he'll really call the police?" Well, Ray with the bullhorn, overheard this and announced to all the protesters that "They're calling in the NATIONAL GUARD!!!"

Now, as you can imagine, pandemonium ensued. Students started shouting, chanting, yelling. Pretty soon, news cameras had arrived. When Ed Skeen came out of his offices flanked by the rest of his administration and tried to get the students back to class on his own he was pounded with raw eggs. A bunch of sh*t kicker cowboys tied a noose to a tree and hung a fake Ed from it. The rockers had "We're Not Gonna Take It" by Quiet Riot blasting from their boom boxes. The cheerleaders were leading protest cheers. The stoners were off in the corner smoking pot. The nerds were off in another corner doing their homework or something. The yearbook staff was on the roof with cameras trying to capture it all. Somebody even got a beach ball bouncing through the crowd. Most people didn't even know why we were there. But they were 14 to 17 years old and out of class on a sunny spring day. They didn't need to know. Whatever the cause was, they were 100% behind it.

And there I was, being called back and forth to the Principal's office to be yelled at by everyone from Mr. Skeen to Mr. Trigg the School District Superintendent. To them, I represented their lack of control. And let me tell ya...these guys were sort of Nazi-ish. Control was something that they just didn't lose. And somebody was going to pay for it. And that somebody was me.

In between going back and forth, the number of TV cameras grew. All the major news stations were there by now. I kept seeing a white flash running from camera to camera giving quotes to the television stations but I was busy and paid it no attention. By this point, things were getting out of hand. I think a garbage can was set on fire and there were waaayyyyy too many people closed off in that quad to get out safely if there was an emergency. Like a fire. I was starting to get a little scared for all of our safety. Someone tipped off the TV reporters that I was Student Body President and representing the students in this thing, so at one point I found myself giving an interview with no less than 4 cameras turned on me and the same number of microphones in my face. As I was speaking to the media and what I imagined was the television viewing population of Northern California, calmly explaining what the students concerns were, how we wanted this matter resolved peacefully and how the students wanted to sit down with Mr. Skeen and he refused, that the white flash I had seen running from camera to camera jumped in front of me and began to shout. It announced he was "Mike Meeker and I just got an appointment to the United States Air Force Academy and Mr. Beckner (one of the teachers) helped me get this appointment and it was totally unfair what they were doing to him." Now, the TV reporter completely forgot about me and moved on to this totally intense young man who was giving PASSIONATE and TOTALLY IRATE and SENSATIONAL and IRRESPONSIBLE soundbites to them. I was completely forgotten. And as Mike yelled injustice at the top of his lungs on local television, things continued to erupt. I remember wanting to squash him where he stood. Because...
A. he totally stole my thunder.
B. he totally poached MY interview.
C. he was inciting a riot.
D. he wasn't even PART of the original group that sat down. He jumped on our bandwagon then took credit for our success.

I HATE when people do that.

At about this point, Mr. Skeen got on the loud speaker again and announced that school was dismissed for the day and that the students should go to their homes immediately. Now, getting out of school for the day became the cause of much celebration and joy. Binders were emptied and papers flew in the air. Trash was littered all over the quad. Suddenly, students that were protesting on behalf of their beloved teachers were given a "get out of school free" pass and the quad cleared in all of 5 minutes. So much for commitment to the cause.

My fellow student council members and I were in meetings with school district leadership until 7:30 that night. By day's end I had blisters, my angora sweater had all sorts of stains and tears. My scarf was crooked! And my pants were filthy. I even had a hole in my barely black nylons. I hated this day by the end of it. They could transfer those two teachers to Siberia for all I cared. I even had to have my mom tape the news on our VCR because I wasn't home in time to watch it.

By the time I got home and watched the tape of the evening news, I was tired, emotionally drained and thinking about running away to finish my senior year at some all girls boarding school in Switzerland. The only bright spot I thought is that I got to be on TV. I was really looking forward to seeing myself and my cute sweater/scarf combo on TV. I mean, what 17 year old wouldn't think it's pretty cool that they lead the evening news on all channels. But you know what really happened? I got on TV for 2 seconds saying I wanted a peaceful resolution and then they cut to a full 2 minutes of Mike Meeker ranting and raving. They even called him one of the protest organizers! He came out like the ring leader of the whole thing and he didn't even KNOW about it until he was sitting in first period. Seeing Mike Meeker on the news that night was my breaking point. I was FURIOUS. All of a sudden, Mike was responsible for why I was dirty, tired and had been yelled at for hours upon hours after students LIKE MIKE, had gone home early and probably had themselves a fun day floating in the pool and listening to the radio. At that moment, Mike Meeker was the most unattractive, stupid, trouble causing, stupid, ridiculous, out of control, stupid boy I knew. And he could think again if he thought I wasn't going to let him know exactly what I thought of him first thing tomorrow when I got to English class. That idiot. He made it so much worse than it had to be. He endangered the students safety and made my job a hell of a lot harder than it needed to be. AND he took my air time. What an arrogant jerk. Who did he think he was? Wait until I got to English tomorrow. Just wait. Boy oh boy was I going to let him HAVE IT!!!

Chapter 4: Red Dresses and Realizations

Our Senior Ball that Spring was everything you think a prom or ball or big dance in high school would be. I had expectations that were grandiose: the perfect gown, perfect date, perfect hair, perfect limo, perfect fancy dinner and the rush and excitement of falling in love like only 17 year olds can... with sheer abandon and complete drama. Reality was exactly what you would expect as well. A nice boy who I had dated all year and with whom I was in a comfortable albeit calm romance with, in his Ford Escort that he worked so hard to afford. A dress that, while in my mind turned me into Cindy Crawford, in actuality just made me look like a dressed-up, cleaned-up version of myself. Nerves made me bitchy to my parents who, I was sure, were probably hoping to snap pictures and freeze this moment in their brains as one of the pinnacles of parenthood. They probably wanted to reminisce over red wine after I left for the evening about my first steps, first day of kindergarten, first lost tooth and how how quickly I had grown up into a super model/super cool and totally together young woman. Instead, they still probably had the wine, but most likely collapsed together in a heap on the couch with a calendar so they could count down the days until I left for college. See, I wasn't very nice prior to the night of the ball with my parade of demands for hair, nails, jewelry, shoes, dress, bag, lipstick etc. etc. etc. My hair turned out fine, the chicken I ate was fine, the pictures were fine, the dancing was fine and the post ball celebratory activities were fine as well. All of it was fine. Except for one little thing that nagged my mind all night. One little detail of the evening that I just couldn't quite forget about. I couldn't let it go. It just pecked at my conscience like a little chicken...peck peck peck.

See,... Mike Meeker, my now friend from English class, sat at our table during dinner with his date. Well, let me rephrase. Mike Meeker sat at our table during dinner with the boobs of his date in the chair beside him. I'm sure the girl was somewhere...off powdering her nose or visiting with friends three tables over, whatever. But her boobs. They just sat there next to Mike. When I thought about my Diet Coke from dinner, there was Mike Meeker and his date's boobs. When I thought about how cool it was that our class chose to all have dinner together at the hotel that the dance was held at instead of all going our own way to different restaurants, there were those boobs again. Floating through my brain like two, well... boobs. And a red dress. I distinctly remember a red dress. And Mike Meeker...with a big doofey smile plastered on his face the whole night. The boobs or the doofey smile. I couldn't decide what was bugging me more as I thought of my senior ball night. It's still to this day the thing I remember from that evening.

What was wrong with me? Mike was just my friend. And not a "do stuff outside of school" friend even. Just a nice boy I sat next to in English. My boyfriend Kelly and my friend Janina got moved to the other side of the classroom from Mike and I earlier in the year. Mrs. Santora got sick and tired of the four of us talking all the time and disrupting class. I guess it didn't make sense to move me and Kelly (boyfriend/girlfriend) or move me and Janina (girlfriends) so she put Janina and Kelly on one side of the classroom and me and Mike on the other. So we had months now of talking and joking around, but it was mostly me giving him girl advice about this SKANK from another school he had been dating and who I had taken a vow to save him from. (sorry to the skank if today you are a nice mother of three and live in the suburbs, but in 1989 you were a skank). And he would occasionally get an ear full about a fight Kelly and I got into and he would always take my side and tell me that I didn't deserve a boyfriend who treated me that way. (note: Kelly was actually a really nice guy and a great friend but we got into the typical teenage boyfriend/girlfriend super-drama fights that teach you how NOT to fight with your spouse someday). Mike and I just talked about stuff like college and sports and when Mike sprained his ankle that March, I gave him rides home and stuff but it was just a class friend thing and that's IT. So why couldn't I get the boobs and red dress and his stupid matching red tie and cumberbun and doofey big grin off my mind? What did I care if his date decided to come to Senior Ball in a red satin towel tied from the waist down? More power to Mike right? Go for it dude! Smile away! But my brain just wouldn't let me wish him well and go on my merry way. It drove me crazy. Why did he take a girl who would wear a dress like that to the biggest event of our lives? What was their "status" now? Was he going with her? Was it just a one night thing? Oh GOSH! What if it WAS just a one night thing? What happened in that one night? Mike's a nice guy. Surely nothing happened! Surely he gave her his tuxedo jacket and told her "in the name of all that is decent - cover yourself, madam!" Mike was a boy with morals and was probably right now praying and taking a vow to stay away from all red dresses forevermore. Who was I kidding? Oh crap, why did I care? And why, on Monday, as I walked into 3rd period English was my voice so high and my palms so sweaty and why did I all of a sudden HAVE to know every detail of their evening and why oh why was I stopping on my way to class to put on lip gloss and smell my armpits which were now sopping wet? Is it hot in here?

"Uh oh. I love Kelly. I am Kelly's girlfriend. I am half of a couple. We have mutual friends. Kelly is my best friend. He loves me. He's a GREAT boyfriend. Mike Meeker the Geeker Seeker...Mike Meeker the Geeker Seeker... MIKE MEEKER THE GEEKER SEEKER. Come on Amy... GET A GRIP!"

"... oh crap... "

Chapter 3: The Odyssey of Heart of Darkness

Fall, 1988.
I stood outside our brand new principal Mr. Skeen's office in my Limited Express button fly acid wash jeans and my Black angora sweater with a floral scarf tied just right around my shoulders making a perfect triangle down my back. My penny loafers were all shined up and my new Liz Claiborne purse was filled with "Extra" green gum, a purple pen, purple and pink eyeshadow, pink lip gloss, a banana clip, Salon Selectives hairspray and these new maxi pads called "Always". Mr. Woodbury was cussing at the ditto machine as I waited for the principal. I needed a favor.

I was Student Body President, Editor of the Antlerette, the speech team darling and pretty full of my 17 year old self. My new boyfriend had 3rd period AP English. I had 1st period AP English. And this just wouldn't do. I needed to switch. But the semester was already in full swing. In fact, it was the end of October and nobody got to switch classes this late in the game. But I wasn't nobody. At least not to me. Our student body council ruled the school and controlled more than a bunch of kids ever should. And this new principal, Ed Skeen, really wanted to be a (air quotes) "friend to the students". He wanted to prove he was a cool guy. I think he blew his chances when he brought his wife to our first pep rally of the year sporting a porcelain heart button staying "I "heart" Ed". I sort of lost respect for this guy at that point. But he wanted to prove he was on the students side and I was their elected leader and I needed to switch classes so there I stood, blowing bright green minty bubbles, waiting for Ed to get off the phone and call me inside.

Transferring to 3rd period AP English was a piece of cake. Ed really sucked up my story about needing a lighter class 1st period so I could prepare for Student Government 2nd period and serve the school more efficiently. "Mr. Skeen, I just feel that I would have more to give the students if I didn't have to think so hard so early in the morning.", I said with my best speech tournament voice. (I didn't really say this exactly, but it was probably something that stupid so that will suffice for our purposes) Ed bought it hook, line and sinker and off I went feeling very super rad about myself. You'll come to learn in future chapters that Ed was no "friend of the students" but was, in reality, an evil facist that had to be overthrown.

So, on my first day of Mrs. Santora's 3rd PERIOD English class, I walked in to friendly faces and my great senior year boyfriend Kelly, who had kicked out whoever had previously sat in the desk next to him. I remember being in the middle of Kelly on one side and Janina Tollenaar who was on student council with me on the other. Behind her, was some guy I vaguely recognized from school. Oh yeah, it was that Mike Meeker kid. Whatever...as long as Kelly and Janina were sitting by me it should be a pretty fun year.

And it was. Mrs. Santora was a great English teacher. She had us do all sorts of fun projects. When we read the Odyssey she had us write our own Odyssey story about ourselves, using greek mythology and in 100% iambic pentameter or whatever that poem style that Homer used was. It was fun and I thought mine was awesome and would be the best. But then Mike Meeker got up to read his. Not only did his RHYME, (which to 17 yr old girls is the gold standard on which all poetry is judged) but it was a RAP. Being a future English Major and somewhat of a literature nerd, I thought this was the coolest thing ever. I thought that Homer would love it and I know I did. Then, it came time for us to venture into the Congo, while reading Heart of Darkness. Now, please undertand, I love literature. But I can't tell you how much I hated Heart of Darkness. It was awful. It seemed like everyone in the class loved the blood and gutts and all the light/dark/evil/good/cannibal/noncanibal symbollism that this book is known for. It just gave me a headache. And while we were studying it, I could always count on the kid behind Janina, Mike Meeker, to make some sarcastic remark about symbollism under his breath or laugh at totally inappropriate times while we were discussing the book. This was always funny but shocking at the same time because Mike Meeker was the ultimate "school boy". You know that label you gave straight A, boyscout types who never turned in their homework late and actually pumped their fist in celebration when a pop quiz was announced. So first the Odyssey RAP, then the sarcastic cool Heart of Darkness comments. Then, he decided he didn't like sitting in his desk and he moved over to the wall on the side of the classroom, sat in a chair and tipped it back on two legs for a lot of the year. Just because he felt like it. And even though Mrs. Santora required all of our work to be completed in pen, he refused to do it. He liked his pencil. Sure it was a mechanical pencil that he kept in his vinyl Members Only jacket's inside pocket, but I thought it was funny and possibly COOL. So before I knew it, Mike Meeker and I were joking around in class and Janina, Kelly, Mike and I became a foursome of friends who sat together, did projects together and laughed together. I adopted Mike into our little group. He earned his way in with his rapping, joke making, chair tipping, pencil rebellion shenanigans.

Little did I know, this was the beginning of the end for Kelly and me and the start of the rest of my life.