For this week's mission (should you decide to accept it), I challenge you to:
1) It's story time - tell us how you met your spouse or significant other. If you don't have one, tell us about your parents met each other.
2) Share your story on your own blog post, or in a comment on this blog post, or in a post on Facebook or Google+.
I was 24 years old in San Diego in February 1968, with a good job (finally), out of debt, and just really starting to be "successful" in meeting young ladies. Bowling was the key - my social life revolved around bowling in mixed leagues (see, pretty smart, eh, looking nifty in my bowling shirts) once a week on a Sunday night. Friday and Saturday were devoted to bowling and drinking in the bars, kibitzing with my buddies who were all older than I was so they were "helping" me with this.
I was living with my good buddy, John, and John was dating a young teacher named Sherry and she had roped him, and me, into bowling in the Sunday night mixed league at Frontier Lanes. There was always a need for female substitutes, and Sherry had many friends, and one of them was Linda, a teacher from San Francisco who had just started working in Coronado in September 1967. Sherry roped Linda into being a substitute on a Sunday night in February 1968.
As luck would have it, Linda was a substitute on the team that my team was playing that night. Linda was long legged and pretty, and I was a bit distracted. I don't know how I did bowling that night, but I imagine it was below my 175 average because I was trying to show off for the substitute.
After the league contest was over, we all retired to the bar at the bowling alley, and Sherry, Linda, John and I played some pool, in addition to talking, laughing and drinking. We were sitting close to the pool table. One of my shots jumped the cue ball off the table and it landed in Linda's lap. She was OK, we all laughed, and I was smitten.
In April 1968, all four of us went to the Los Angeles area for something (I really can't remember what - I know it wasn't sports and probably not bowling!), and we stayed up all night. We headed home after 3 a.m. (only 120 miles or so) and I was driving. John and Sherry passed out early on, and Linda stayed awake to make sure I was awake. She sat in back of me, and over the last 50 miles or so, she rubbed my neck to keep me awake. That worked!
On Memorial Day 1968, Linda was in bed at her apartment in her negligee, and a pickup truck backed through her bedroom wall and threw her against the opposite wall, breaking a vertebra in her back. She was taken to the hospital and kept for about a week. Sherry told John and I about it, so we went to visit her. On the way, we stopped at a liquor store to get her a magazine and a bottle of beer. As we are approaching the hospital in Coronado, I see a man trimming his rose bushes, so we stopped the car, I jumped out and asked the man if I can have some roses for my friend in the hospital, and he gave me three or four beautiful roses. We opened the bottle of beer and put them in the bottle. At the hospital, we gave Linda the magazines and the roses in the beer bottle, and told her the beer was fresh, and it would be good for her back. She laughed, drank, and thanked us for being so thoughtful and romantic.
Linda spent the summer of 1968 in San Francisco, and I had several other lady friends at the time, being Mr. Romantic and all, and drinking too much at the bowling alley. I saw her occasionally at Sherry's, but we didn't really date again until August 1969, because she couldn't bowl with the back problem. She threw a party on a Saturday night, and some of my bowling and drinking friends were there and gave her my new phone number. As the party ended, she called and said "I didn't have your number, and you missed my party." I said something like, "Well, I'll come down now and we can party some more." Mr. Bravado there! I did, and we talked a lot, and I helped her clean up the bottles and debris, and went home thinking "wow, what a babe!"
From then on, we were a couple, going out to dinner, spending time together, attending Sherry's parties, hanging out at King Luis Inn ("our bar"), going to Padre games and Charger games at the stadium. In February 1970, on Valentine's Day evening, I asked her to marry me. Mr. Romantic strikes again!
And the rest is, as they say, family history!
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Copyright (c) 2015, Randall J. Seaver