“The Eyes are the Window to the Soul”
Being a child of the 60’s, I remember vividly a group of students and teachers hovered around a radio with the news of the assassination of John F. Kennedy. I came home from my school on the south side of Chicago that evening to my family in tears as we watched the news. It was the beginning of woes—soon after Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King were shot. The world was a different place—-the rug of security was pulled out from under us. But life goes on for a girl on her way to the university.
My best friend Carol and I set out for Northern Illinois University in DeKalb, IL. We were roommates in the first coed dorms, Lincoln and Douglas. We actually made a list of rules for ourselves which included no kissing on first dates. The other mission in our collegiate life was to visit various churches in our search for meaning and independence.
With our meal ticket in hand, we stepped into the coed lunchroom ready to refine the art of flirting. Carol was a master. Eating dinner, by the way, was a secondary activity.
“Looks don’t matter to me,” said Carol, “I’m more interested in dating a man with intelligence and personality.”
In contrast, I felt rather vain as I pointed to the picture of my dream stud muffin pinned on the wall by my desk. Glancing at George Hamilton made for a good study break. He was tall, dark, muscular and handsome—all my required ingredients in a man. I had my eye on a collegiate who fit that description. Eventually, Rick asked me out. But his handsomeness palled when he opened his mouth. I guess Carol was right. I needed to look beyond my poster dream boy.
Pledge time came; I watched intensely as Carol put her eyeliner on with a sharpened pencil; I was afraid she’d poke her eye out. We dressed in our best attire; piled our hair high and went to sorority teas. It was an adventure we could not afford. Sororities cost money we didn’t have; when we were invited back, we said “thanks” but we wanted to remain independent of any particular group.
After the tea, we went to the Union where students gathered nightly to dance. Looking to my left, I saw a tall and handsome young man. His engaging smile spoke volumes about his love for music and dancing. I dreamt of peering into his thoughtful, romantic eyes with lashes that would be the envy of any girl. OK, he didn’t have dark hair; he was blonde like me. I imagined myself encircled by his muscular arms. Other than that, he was my poster boy. Now there is someone I would like to meet, I thought. But the evening evaporated and Carol and I sauntered back to our dorms before opportunity knocked.
My rigorous and difficult classes kept me busy and often overwhelmed. I was thrown into advanced French with a Parisian teacher who spoke very little English. I survived my math class by rewriting my notes over and over again. Now speech was my specialty. I joined the speech team at NIU and was confident in my abilities. But I was disappointed in my first speech performance. It didn’t go well. I began my dialogue with God while gazing at the beautiful pink setting sun canopied in purple.
“I don’t know if you are there or not, but if you are—- show me you exist by making something wonderful happen. Right now, I wish I were a cloud floating along carefree. But if you are there, you can have my life,” I cried out.
My older brother, Bill, and I had many conversations on summer nights as we sat on the lawn looked up at the stars.
“There is no way we could ever know if God exists or not,” he said. I really valued the opinions of my intelligent older brother.
If God did exist, I thought, couldn’t he communicate with me, a human being? Couldn’t he reveal himself in some way?
My roommate, Carol, had a date the following Friday. Determined not to spend a Friday night in the dorm alone, I shyly ventured to the Newman Club for the Valentine Day dance alone. The band was in high gear when I looked across the crowded room of dancers. There he was, my poster boy, the very same one I had noticed at the Union the week before. He would stand out in any crowd. “You’re going to meet him tonight,” I heard but wondered where the inaudible voice came from. Fat chance I thought. He had a girl pasted on each side of him. When I came out of the bathroom though, he was standing alone. It was now or never to make a move before the pasted sisters returned. His picture was in the newspaper that day along with a comment on his views of the Vietnam situation. I starred at his picture for a long time earlier that afternoon peering into those mesmerizing eyes.
Like Cinderella, I had very few clothes and a very limited budget. However, my fashionable roommate was out to change my image. We went shopping the morning of the Valentine dance; she talked me into buying a bright red sweater with drawstrings that gently dangled over my breasts and a red and white checkered skirt.
“Red, unlike drab blue, will compliment your blonde hair and capture a guy’s attention,” she assured me.
Here I was a few feet away from my dream man. I was not going to let this opportunity pass by. I boldly walked up to him turning as bright as my red sweater and said, “What do you think of the Viet Nam situation?” He laughed knowing that I was making reference to his picture in the paper. He looked down at my five-foot frame and in a deep voice said, “Aren’t you Sue?” I was ecstatic that he knew my name. He had seen me for the first time that morning walking with his friend, Graham. He had me confused with a fast-moving girl named DeKalb Sue who was dating Graham. I melted when he asked me to dance to a medley of Beatle songs and even the cramp in my foot didn’t stop me. At the end of the evening, he asked if he could walk me back to the dorm. We held hands on the long walk back to the dorm. Girls had to be in by midnight on the weekends. I’d be grounded the next weekend if I was even a minute late whereas the men had no hours at all. At last, we arrived with minutes to spare. Placing me a step up, Larry starred into my eyes and they melted into mine. “Can I kiss you goodnight?” he asked. I very much wanted to be kissed by my prince charming. I don’t remember saying “Yes,” but Larry remembers and it was the softest gentlest kiss I had ever experienced. “I can’t believe you kissed me,” I said. I then remembered my vow to not kiss on first dates and this wasn’t even a date. It was a pickup. But Cupid’s bow had landed in our hearts and I ran down the hall shouting, “I’m in love; I’m in love”—-knowing that at 18 years old, I had found my soulmate. Yes, I do believe in love at first sight. Shakespeare was right when he said, “The eyes are the window to the soul.”
He called later that evening and we talked about our families. “Would you like to go out next weekend?” he asked. I held my breath hoping he would say Sunday instead of Saturday since I already had another date. “How about going to the Hootenanny on Sunday night at the Union?” Our dating relationship and mutual love for music began.
As I found out later, Larry was majoring in Dating 101. He had dated 32 different girls and still reserved Friday’s for pickups like me. He was making up for all the time he missed as a shy, overworked young man in high school. Larry’s classes were getting little attention. When people asked him where he would be living next semester. He would say, “Off campus,” Yes, I thought, way off campus. He later joined the Marines as an air controller.
There were ups and downs in our ongoing relationship. Larry was afraid of getting serious at nineteen years of age. I was very upset when he quit calling. When someone else asked me out, I said “yes” and ended up at the Newman Club dance yet again. It was Friday—Larry’s pick up night. He saw me with my new date and danced right next to us. My heart was throbbing uncontrollably. About 12:30 AM that night he called saying,” I didn’t like seeing you with that other guy. I think I’m falling in love.” We spent the next day talking, laughing and enveloped in each other’s arms. We knew there was something very special about our relationship and we didn’t want to lose each other.
God had answered my prayers by making something wonderful happen in my life. As a result, I gave my life to Christ and soon after Larry did as well. We know that we are gifts to one another and even after many years of marriage, the flame grows stronger. There is a God who designed us for one another and each Valentine Day is special to us.
The fairytale romance blossomed into marriage and the rearing of three children. Presently we have five grandchildren and we have had many foster children. Regardless of circumstances, our prevailing state is happiness. The scriptures say that “Two are better than one.” That has certainly been true in our lives. Larry built a beautiful high ceiling home for us filled with our son’s artwork, family pictures, and plants too numerous to count. We are so blessed and about to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary July 6th, 2018.
Now that fishing season is almost upon us, I’m reminded of a lifewithlarry experience. Our daughter, Deborah, who resides in Bozeman, Montana taught Larry how to fly fish one summer. He took to it like a bee to honey. He can be see practicing on the road here in Fox River Grove, IL. People come from all over the world to fish in Yellowstone and pay enormous amounts of money for the adventure. Deb took Larry to a small spring creek near a railroad track and Interstate 90.
