Road Bumps Along the Journey...

It was December 29, 1970 when I first met my husband. I was a baby, a mere child. I was all of 18 years old, Miss 1300 on the S.A.T.'s going to nursing college, working in a hospital, living the successful life my parents had planned for me and feeling hopelessly trapped by the Establishment. I was a starry-eyed teenaged flower child looking for my way into the world; he was an 20 yr old disillusioned Vietnam Vet looking for the way out. We were a match made in heaven —and every mother's nightmare for her young daughter.

Me in 1971 with our Great Dane, Lakaya

Mike was barely 20, an AWOL sailor with PTSD and fresh off the ship from a year's duty in Vietnam. He'd hitchhiked from San Diego to our home town in Lancaster, CA to see his mom. He'd been denied Leave when he requested it and was told that he was confined to the ship. Mike said “like hell” grabbed his duffle bag and promptly left. He was rebellious and dangerous — two of the qualities I was looking for in a man.

We met at McDonalds (one of my hang outs) that fateful night. He was dressed like a Sears catalog hippie, trying too hard to be cool. I wasn't impressed. His hair was short. His clothes were too new. I only dated bonafide long-haired Freaks. But he stalked me for a couple days until I would go out with him. I must have let my guard down. I must have been looking for something I-didn't-know-what and I gave in. We spent every day together for a full two weeks before we he swept me off my feet. We fell crazy in love and during the third week, announced our engagement to my parents. You can imagine my mother's reaction. The blood drained from her face as she stood there speechless. My dad, detached and unemotional as ever, just shook his head, muttering "Well I don't think it's a good idea" and walked out of the room.  We deemed that response our patriarchal blessing and a mere week later, sans wedding ring, I left home for good. I gathered up my tie-dyed shirts and patched up jeans as well as my guitar, climbed into the back seat of Mike's brother's Plymouth, and shook the dust of Lancaster, California off my sandals.

Looking back I should have read the signs. I should have seen the clues that might have deterred me from my hapless quest to Paradiso Perdu but I was too enmeshed in the throes of new love—whatever that is. And the first sign should have been meeting my future In-laws.

Bernie and Tex in their back yard-1971

We had been seeing each other for a full week when Mike asked me to meet him one morning at his parent's house. I had a VW bug and was fully mobile. He had his two young feet and a good left thumb for hitchhiking. I was to be there at 10 am and he would introduce me to the people that birthed him. I was foolishly excited. DANGER WILL ROBINSON, DANGER! I should have had orange flashing warning lights going off in my brain...that should have deterred me. But no.

I showed up on the doorstep at 10am sharp and knocked. I knocked several times before a middle-aged, short, red haired bespectacled woman with a cigarette in her mouth answered the door. (None too cheerful I might add.) “Yeah?” she stood there at the door looking me up and down, obviously disapproving of my appearance. “Um....I'm here to see Mike”. “Heh!?” she said, in a deep Bostonian accent, cupping her hand behind her ear. “Mike?” I squeaked. “Well shit, I can't heah a word you say.” At that she turned her head and yelled to the inside of the dark house, “Tex! Come heah! There's some girl at the doah!” So a few seconds later here is Tex at the door, standing next to her staring at me with the same frown on his face as his wife. He had a shock of greased black hair high on the top of his head and a matching cigarette perched between his lips. His resemblance to a bantam rooster was remarkable. He got right to the point. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded. At this point I was inching my way backwards, hand in my jeans pocket fingering my car keys. “Speak up!” the woman yelled. “Um...Mike told me to meet him here at 10 am?” I asked more than announced. Tex turned to Bernie (for the red haired woman was, indeed, Mike's mother Bernie) and shouted “Where the HELL is your son! This girl is here to see Mike. Where IS he?” Nonplussed, Bernie pulled the cigarette butt out of her mouth, flicked it to the gravel driveway in back of me and shouted back at him “How the hell do I know? He's not heah!” They both glared at me again. Tex began ranting and this time it was aimed at me. “If he said he'll be here at 10 then he SHOULD be here at 10! So where IS he?!”

The camel's back broke. I burst into tears right there on their doorstep. I was speechless. I was horrified. My mascara was running. I had no idea where Mike was and desperately needed rescuing. This was the catalyst to a brand new wave of nagging from Bernie. “Aww Tex now look what you did! You went and made her cry. What the hell is wrong with you! You made her cry!” Tex countered with a disgusted “Oh shut up woman!” and stormed off, back to his recliner to finish The Rifleman.

Bernie w/her first grandchild, Kevin in 1971

It was precisely at that moment that Mike drove up in his friend George's car. He got out of the car and walked up to the front door. Oblivious to my tears and degree of humiliation, as well as his mother's scowl, he enthusiastically embraced both of us in a communal hug, and said “Oh I'm so glad. You two have met!”

He then stepped into the house, whistling like a fat canary and I, like a fresh young lamb being coaxed into a Greek restaurant, carelessly and innocently followed right behind.

For a good time to come our road to happiness would be paved with shattered dreams and salty tears. But that is another story for another day. Suffice it to say that now, over 40 years later we all know that the story did, indeed, have a happy ending. And I am quick to add “by the Grace of God” with gusto and conviction here because that is the only reason. I toughened over the years. Learned to ignore Tex's rantings and Bernie's disapproving glares...and I am still married to that same impetuous Vietnam Vet who actually turned out to be a wonderful man, a great husband and a good apple —who thankfully fell a decent distance away from the family fruit tree.