One Plus Three Sevens Equals Thirty-four

On her birthday in the monsoon month of August in Phoenix, my boss wasn't inclined to attend a meeting. Instead, she designated me as her representative. I don't remember being particularly delighted about this assignment, but I had no choice. I could not have known the monumental impact that acting as her surrogate would have upon my life.

As a librarian working for what was considered the most innovative city in the State of Arizona, I interacted frequently with professional colleagues. Many of them had become close friends and we enjoyed getting together at conferences, workshops and visiting each other's facilities. I'd heard about a new maverick city library director whose ideas promised to bring many changes to the state of libraries and librarianship. It was he who'd be chairing the fateful meeting at the Arizona State Library for the Blind.

Much of that afternoon has receded into distant memory. I do recall vividly walking into the reception area and immediately seeing a familiar face. David rose from the couch and embraced me. He then turned to the man who stood next to him and introduced us. So this is the already fabled 'new kid.' Hmmmmm. Seems quite nice. Well, what about those clothes? He's wearing plaid pants and a patterned shirt. Interesting combination. And his shoes? What are they? Sort of dress shoes but not really. Well, no matter, just listen to him talk. This guy's a thinker. No, he's way beyond that description, he's brilliant. Forget about the attire. That's fixable. He has the warmest smile, the bluest eyes, the gentlest demeanor, the greatest enthusiasm for his latest project. I will listen, observe, study this person who is really like no other I've ever met.

More people arrive and we move to a conference room. David introduces everyone and the meeting begins. Instantly I know he's a force of positive energy. I really can't keep up with his facile mind. His idea is commendable, worthwhile, and has great potential. The assembled librarians offer suggestions, concur with his proposal. We've caught his fever.

When the meeting ends, he talks to me and asks if we can get together to discuss the project further. I say "yes" without hesitation. Inertia has captured me. I may not grasp it fully, but I am his from that moment forward and thankfully, I still am.

As with most relationships, ours included complications. He was a single dad with full custody of a precocious six year old son. An ex-wife made life more interesting than necessary. I was, well, married. Though the union had essentially dissolved years before, the connection was still viable and had to be severed permanently. Through these often difficult machinations, he remained steadfast and never lost faith that our being together was inevitable.

On a rainy night in January, we were married at the Phoenix AME Church. His son participated in the ceremony. Each of us wrote our own vows. The Rev. Floid D. Parker officiated.




Our attendants were David, who introduced us, and Jerrye, my boss, who skipped the now famous meeting.



The ceremony itself was short. We had a plane to catch, destination unknown to me. A friend had inadvertently mentioned that I should pack a swimsuit. I thought we might be headed to Hawaii. First, there was time to see his parents and sample the cake his mom had created.



Initially, we flew to San Diego for a few days. Almost as soon as we arrived at the hotel, the electricity went out. We dined on room service cold roast beef sandwiches and I felt like we were in heaven. No bad omens shrouded that day. The next morning, we awoke and discovered a Navy carrier anchored outside our window. Perfect.



Once our plane was in the air, the flight attendant asked us to identify ourselves. We were handed a huge bottle of champagne and a dozen long-stemmed yellow roses. No cards identified the source of this bounty. Upon landing in Honolulu, we were required to stop at the Agricultural Inspection Station. Flowers and fruit cannot enter the state without special permission and/or appropriate tags. I used my most plaintive voice and explained the origin of the roses and asked for dispensation. It was granted and we left the airport with the yellow beauties.

After a few days strolling along Waikiki Beach and visiting historic sites, he said there was another surprise. What could it be? We took a taxi to a small strip mall and walked into a camper rental store. Gleefully, he announced that we would have our very own camper in which to explore Oahu. In the succeeding years, whenever this story is told, he casually mentions that because I had grown up on a farm, he was sure I'd love the rustic nature of camping. Obviously we knew little about each other. I was a farm girl in name only. I loathed camping and had only tried it once. Since this was our honeymoon, I smiled and mused, "How bad can it be?"



The little camper was red. It had no special accoutrements except a shell on its back. Inside was a platform with a foam mattress. Maybe there were are few utensils stored in small cupboards. Certainly there were no bathroom facilities, no heater, no comfy chair or electronics.

We drove away from the big city not really knowing where we might be stopping for the night. We were on an island and campsites were presumed to be plentiful. We were in no hurry. Our temporary home was with us. We stopped at the Crouching Lion Inn for a delicious lunch. The meandering roadway traveled every northward. We looked for campsites. None yet, but we weren't dismayed.

By mid-afternoon, we'd arrived at the famous Banzai Pipeline, beloved of all surfers. The waves were spectacular and a small group of intrepid surfers rode them with elan. We talked with a young man who informed us that we could, indeed, camp near the beach. One requirement, strictly enforced, was a permit. It could be obtained at the police station in the next town. And, one other thing. It's necessary to get up in the middle of the night and move one's camp when the tide comes in. Good to know.

Reinvigorated, we're off in search of the elusive permit. The town was close by but we couldn't locate the police station. Another insurmountable difficulty arose when we discovered that the residents of the town spoke only Hawaiian. No permit for us. We'll keep looking.

By this time we've traveled around half of the island and are on our way back to Honolulu. There's time for an extensive tour of the Dole Canning Company and some free samples.

We are now accepting the fact that campsites are not readily available on Oahu. OK. We devise a new plan. We'll return to the city, find a place where cars park overnight, settle in to a space and decide what to do in the morning. A hospital seems like a good choice. Large lot, many vehicles. We climb in the back of the camper and believe we're going to sleep. Nope. We are adjacent to a church where the chimes ring every half hour. No sleep will ensue if we remain here.

What now? Let's see. We're both librarians. We'll just look for a library and park in its lot. If we're bothered, we'll simply proclaim that we're visiting libraries throughout the island and wanted to get to this one early. Sounds reasonable enough.

There's the cutest branch library all nestled in a neighborhood and nearly covered in greenery. We pull around the back and are absolutely certain we've found peace and quiet.

Almost. It seems that this secluded space is a favorite for teen-agers seeking solitude in their cars. For hours, they come and go. We expect that the police, who must know about this rendezvous space, will arrive shortly. Thankfully, they don't.

After a mostly sleepless night, we make an important decision. Camping is not for either of us. We return the little red vehicle and give the unopened bottle of champagne to the guys in the office. California sounds wonderful. There are abundant hotels. We're on a plane by noon. These adventures will make quite a story.

Tomorrow is our thirty-fourth anniversary. I'm still in love. Henry is so much more than I ever deserved. We've built a life that suits us and the memories of our years together resonate sweetly. We've sadly lost two sets of parents and my only sibling. We've joyously welcomed a daughter and more recently, her husband. Our careers reached a comfortable trajectory and we left them with feelings of satisfaction. Family and friends surround us and enrich our lives every day. Travel has broadened us in myriad ways and we gave that gift to our children also. Our health has been astonishingly positive and we're trying to be diligent caretakers of our bodies for the years yet to come.

We deliberately chose to be married on January 7, 1977. With '7' as our lucky number, it seemed like our destiny was set. I'd do it again tomorrow and welcome an additional thirty-four.