You Light Up My Life (or I Like Golf…Don’t Judge Me!)

Last weekend The Wife and I (and the In-Laws) attended a conference held by our friends at Impact Ministries in Huntsville.  Last weekend also happened to be the British Open (or as golf snobs and British people call it “The Open Championship”).  Church and golf.  Golf and church. 

Church OR golf.  Golf OR church.

We have a dilemma.  More specifically, I have a dilemma.

Thanks to smart phones, we were able to keep up with scores in between conference sessions

(ok…”during” conference sessions, too).  One of us would pull up the current scores on our phone and discreetly (ok…not so discreetly) show the screen to the others.  As players moved up and down the leader board we would react with everything from the “raise-your-eyebrows-surprise look” to slightly muffled “wows”.  When Phil Mickelson pulled within a stroke of the lead on the back nine, you might have thought we got the Holy Ghost.

It was at that point, that I left.  It was with The Wife’s blessing (see how awesome she is) but I left church to go find a bar at 10:30 in the morning to watch golf.  Don’t judge me.  It’s a major championship.

So, I sat alone at a bar with every TV in the place set to the British Open.  Phil had one of the best final rounds in major championship history and won the Open by 3 strokes.  I had plenty of time to make it back to the church before the service was even over.

The lobby of the church was off to the side of the auditorium and I stood there listening in as the service wrapped up.  As I looked through the crowd, my eye was immediately captured by The Wife.   

If you’ve ever seen The Blues Brothers, you’ll remember the scene where Jake and Elwood are at church.  James Brown is the preacher and asks the congregation “Do you see the light?”.  Jake does see the light and he glows in a light descending from Heaven.

That’s what it’s like when I see The Wife.  (I can’t think of anything else

that she might have in common with Jake Blues other than that, though.  She doesn’t have her letters of her name tattooed on her fingers.  She doesn’t eat four fried chickens and a Coke for lunch.  She’s never even sung at Bob’s Country Bunker).  Wherever she may be and whatever the setting or circumstance, the sight of her grasps my attention and my heart even more now than it did when we first met.  Congratulations to Phil, but I’m a major winner, too.

How I Proposed To Your Mother

Hello, Darlin.  Nice to see you.  Its been a long time.

Yes, it’s been a long time since I’ve posted a blog here.  I have not been dead, divorced, abducted by aliens, out of the closet or in a coma.  As George (and Frank) Costanza famously said: “I’m back, baby.  I’m back”.

You may have seen the show “How I Met Your Mother”.  It is the seemingly endless tale that a dad shares with his kids about how he, in fact, met their mom.  When you watch individual episodes of the show, it is pretty strong comedy.  The story arcs are a labor to endure, however.  How long does it really take to tell how you met your wife? (Apparently nine years).  At any rate, this is the story of how I proposed to The Wife.  I promise it won’t take nine years, but it will take longer than it probably should.

Twenty-four years ago this month I proposed to The Wife. A couple of weeks ago, we happened to revisit the site of that proposal.  It was in the gazebo in the Opryland Hotel conservatory.  As we sat there together, I had to think about that moment nearly a quarter century ago and how I got that one right.  And I had to think what if that moment never happened?  What if at some point in my life or hers something bumped just enough in the time line that kept that proposal from happening?

What if…I’d been born in Alabama?  On the plus side, I’d have lots of National Championship t-shirts (that I made in my garage and tried to sell out of the trunk of my Pontiac Fiero).  On the negative side, I’d have a wife named Lurlene who screamed “Roll Tide” at inappropriate times of intimacy.  I’d also have a three-legged dog named “Bear”.  (Let the death threats from Tuscaloosa begin in 3….2…1).

What if…I’d gone to umpire school?  In college, I thought if I didn’t meet someone before I graduated I might go to Florida and enroll in an umpire school.  I could be ringing up Alex Rodriguez in a Triple A game this week!

What if…(and these next two are real…and spectacular) her dad had not changed jobs during The Wife’s senior year of high school?  Prior to that, she was planning on going to college in Tulsa.  When her family moved, she decided to stay at home and go to school at Tennessee Tech.

What if…one of us didn’t know Amy Taylor?  You see, Amy introduced us in an Economics class at Tech.  Without Amy’s introduction, I doubt my amazing grades in Econ 201 would have been enough to make The Wife think: “This nerdy guy who keeps staring at my boobs gets awesome test scores in this boring class.  I would really like to meet him”.

Fortunately for me all the things in history properly clicked and lead us to that moment in the gazebo.  So, with history on my side, let me tell you, children, how I proposed to your mother. 

I was working in Chattanooga and The Wife and her family were in Cookeville (if you don’t know where those places are, consult a globe).  I had just started a job out of college and the training class I was in was getting out early on Friday.  I jumped in the T-bird and headed to Cookeville.  Not to see The Wife, but to see the man who would become The Father-in-Law.  I went to his office and asked his receptionist if I could see him.  I waited in the lobby for what seemed like hours.  It could have been ten minutes or it could have actually been hours.  I was too nervous to think to look at my watch or even remember how to tell time, for that matter.  If you want to break a terrorist, make them wait to ask a father if he can marry his daughter.  Water-boarding will become obsolete.

I don’t remember a lot about when I finally got in to see him.  Before I got to say anything, I think he

tried to sell me some life insurance.  That wasn’t too odd since he ran a successful insurance agency.  The fact that he wanted me to list him as the beneficiary and asked me if I liked to hunt?…that seemed odd.  What I do remember about that conversation was some awkward staring at inanimate objects and watery eyes for both of us (dang allergies).  Most importantly, he gave his blessing.

On a side note, I have the best in-laws possible.  My family and The Wife’s family not only get along with each other, they love each other.  I know a lot of people aren’t this blessed, but I am so thankful for this.  The Mother-in-Law always greets me as her “favorite son-in-law”.  Which when she started that 24 years ago was funny, because she thought with two other daughters that by now she would be referring to me as her “third-favorite son-in-law”.  The Wife’s sisters and brother are not married yet.  So, if you are looking to marry into a great family, leave a personal history and photo in the comments section of this blog.  I’ll try to hook you up.

The Wife

On Saturday, The Wife and I went to Nashville and after dinner walked through the Conservatory.  When we reached the gazebo we sat on the bench.   After a few deep breaths and some mostly-successful efforts to not pee myself, I got down on one knee in front of The Wife.  Later I would learn that she had no clue what was going on and was thinking “what are you doing?  Get up.  People are walking by!”.  Before she could say anything, I asked her to marry me.  She said “yes”.  At least I think she said “yes”.  She might have said “I’m not going to pay a lot for this muffler”.  What I heard was “yes”.  And that’s made all the difference.

One day, I’ll share “How I Courted Your Mother”.  This could also be titled “How To Wear A Woman Down Into Finally Conceding To Date You”.  But that is for another day.