I Thought The Sun Rose In Your Eyes

I always felt like the ugly duckling. I’m not saying you didn’t, I’m just saying.

I passed through all stages; puppy love, school girl crushes, teen-age idols, and high school boyfriends. Both boyfriends fell shy of the typical “school jock dates Pretty Cute Chick” syndrome. In fact, they were neither one jocks nor did I feel worthy, by any stretch of the imagination, with the high school P.C.C. label.

My parents had a sort of unwritten rule not to get too involved with someone that didn’t share our same beliefs. Deep down I wanted the same thing...a nice, god-fearing, church attending, cute, guy.

My choices were slim. If I would have gone with the church attending priority, I would now be married to someone who was severely challenged or an ex-con. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

And so, much to the chagrin of my would-be daughters, I headed off to a “christian” college looking for my M.R.S. degree.

The Moody Bible Institute of Chicago is a prestigious school of higher learning. It’s founder, D.L. Moody, was one of the great evangelists of the late 19th, early 20th centuries. The alumni donations are in the millions and they pay each students tuition every year. You can click on the above link if you want to know more, but I must get back to my story.

In the late, stifling, summer of 1973 I packed half the house into the gold country squire station wagon with wood on the side, said my good-byes, and headed off to college life. I was the small town farm girl heading towards the big city lights and I might as well have been traveling in a pumpkin turned carriage.

The first semester came and went without a prospective husband in sight. Come to think of it, I sort of lost sight of my goal the minute I walked onto the gated campus. Instead I fell in love with everyone and everything about college life and the city. You might say I got side tracked.

4th floor Houghton Hall was a medley of personalities, relationships, emotions, and fragrances. It was like a year-long slumber party and I soaked it up and more often than not instigated shennanigans. One minute I could walk in on Brenda kneeling beside her bed praying. The next, I’d be walking down Michigan Ave, when my roommate Sue from NY, produced a stray marijuana cigarette. Anyway, she said it was.

Moody ran a tight ship, all in the guise of student safety rules. There were no co-ed dorms. No co-ed dorm floors. No co-ed dorm hallways. What we did have was a “brother” floor. Culbertson Hall 7 had quite the eclectic group of guys. They treated us like  little sisters and vice versa with the girls on HH 4th. We baked goodies, typed their papers, and attended all their intramural games. They, in turn, would “escort” us around the city and ask us to the Fall and Spring Flings.

Both dorms had open houses twice a semester, when the ban would be lifted and we could literally hang out in each others rooms----for the evening. Once a semester these were formal occasions where each floor chose a theme, decorated, and treated their sibling floor to a very nice evening. Kinda like a prom without the dancing. One time we transformed 4th HH into the emerald city. My tall, blonde, friend, Sandi was Glinda the good witch. I played the ugly, evil, witch of the west, I think her name was Elphaba. 7th floor Colby (short for Culbertson) was the reigning king of transformation. One time they set up Hawaii, complete with an erupting volcano. And one year they transformed their lounge into a Chicago city skyline at night, with the help of black lighting and thousands of miniature cereal boxes. They always won the prize and we, their sister floor, felt very special to be treated to such imagination and creativity.

As my 2nd semester started, I must admit my original motives were overshadowed by studies, concert band, big city, girlfriends, “brothers”, and just overall fun! Right around this time Brenda invited me to go to a basketball game with her fiancé Mark and his friend Mark, both of the wildly acclaimed 7th heaven. Fine by me, I enjoyed her fiancé, and I loved basketball. Of course, by default, on the shuttle bus to the game the other Mark and I were seated together.

We started out with the basic conversation.
Me: Where are you from?
Him: Michigan
Me: (because of all my license plate savvy) The great lake state?
Him: Yes, even though Minnesota claims to be the land of 10,000 lakes we actually hold the title with over 11,000 lakes (something in common, we both read license plates)
Him: Where are you from?
Me: A small town in Indiana, ever heard of Purdue U., well I’m about 35 miles and hundreds of cornfields from there.
Him: What class was your high school in?
Me: Hmmmm?
Him: As far as your enrollment, were you class A, B, C, or D?
Me: What are you talking about? There were no divisions. The little guys could go all the way to the state finals and end up beating the big guys. Haven’t you ever heard of “Hoosiers?”

Later on when we would visit each other, he always commented on the basket ball domes rising from the cornfields without a football stadium in sight. And I always mentioned that we could fit 4 of his gyms into one of ours. He came from a graduating class of 400 and I graduated with 80 friends.

And then we did Chicago. We walked and talked the whole semester. Mark & Brenda knew when to tag along and when to become invisible. Even when they would disappear we talked some more. He paid attention and I noticed. We always seemed to end up together even in groups and it just felt right. My yellow ugly duckling status was turning a beautiful shade of white. Even though our tuition was paid by donors, our funds were tight, and so we used the beautiful new dining room, the 2nd floor (co-ed) lounge, and the absolutely breathtaking city of Chicago to date. And we walked and talked some more.

We were becoming strong friends. Yes, and the second we opted for thin crust Pizza Hut instead of deep dish Chicago style...I knew I could marry this guy and live happily ever after.

He was ever the gentleman, not only holding the doors, but guiding me through them. We first held hands in a car ride to attend a new church in the suburbs. We held hands again as we made our way down the aisle of this movie theater church. A full band was on stage playing a rock and roll version of “How Great Thou Art”. Even though the 2 or 3 hundred other worshippers were strangers, I have never felt so at home, at peace, and in love.

To escape the city life I invited the four of us to Indiana for a weekend visit to the farm. And so on a greyhound bus somewhere along the Indiana Toll Road we kissed.

But the bumpy school bus ride to a Moody basketball game was the first time ever I saw your face.