The evening I saw Daryl was on November 22, 1991, we didnít speak that night; he was at my parentís home with his father bidding a fireplace installation job. He wore these great Amish britches, no doubt lovingly and skillfully made by his mother. I, on the other hand, had my hair-sprayed big bangs, Gap jeans and the latest in Clinique make-up. We were very different, at least on the outside. Another good reminder, donít judge people or make assumptions because of differences on the outside. We enter the story of each otherís lives for a reason. Judgment can be the thief of great blessings.
The morning Daryl and his brother came to build that fireplace, I had a plan. I woke up early, of course, to fix my hair. I had cinnamon rolls and coffee ready to serve. I served Daryl coffee in a mug that had hearts all over it. Yes, hearts. All over that coffee mug, big, fat, red hearts. My hope was that it would send a silent signal of love and genuine infatuation. Now, I will pause here and admit, this could feel or seem embarrassing and silly, but I still smile and reflect with joy and excitement when I recall these memories. I was experiencing love at first sight.
Engaging in conversation with two Amish young men while they were laying bricks, mixing mud and building a fireplace proved to be a challenge. We had an inside dog at the time and the poor girl, Iím sure, wondered why I was taking her out every half hour. And then, something unexpected happened. The gas logs for the fireplace didnít fit and my mother suggested I drive Daryl to exchange the logs for the correct set. The store was about an hour away and this provided an opportunity to talk and connect. Let me rephrase that, this provided an opportunity for me to talk and Daryl to listen and add to our conversation when he saw fit. It was during that trip we talked about seeing the movie Dances with Wolves. Our date was set for Saturday, November 30, 1991.
Next week: Part III of Big Bangs and Amish Britches.
Published: October 6, 2012