You know you're a cop spouse when . . .

You know you're a cop spouse when . . .

You don't know what day of the week it is because you quit working some time ago and his weekend is Mon-Tues-Wed.
You don't even PLAN on having him home for dinner because after 27 years, it's hit and miss.
You eat cereal for supper when he's on duty because its easier than fixing something for just one person.
You celebrate Valentines Day by going out riding with him.
You celebrate 4th of July, anniversaries, birthdays and most other special days by going out riding with him.
You know all the 10 codes.
You know what a deuce is.
You don't have arguments; you get into a 415.
You love the sound of Velcro in the morning.
You have a list of restaurants in your head where you can't eat.
You have to run in and pick up the take out because "I think I arrested someone from there last night."
When you go to the escrow office to sign the paperwork for your new house, he hesitates at the front door and checks his feet for blood because he doesn't want to track blood into the office.
He knows the inside of many of the houses in your little town.
You can build your own fence and fix all sorts of things around the house.
He goes to the grocery store and comes home much later than he should have because he saw someone who had a warrant/was stealing booze.
You say your last name and people say they know your husband.
Little kids tell your kids that their daddy knows your daddy . . . And it's not in a good way.
You've got a black and white in your driveway and everyone in town knows where you live.
Your kids end up with a wicked, cynical sense of humor "just like your dad."
You're used to him not disbelieving, but not 100% believing everything you tell him.
You've been told, "everybody lies.”
You don't say "ok" you say 10-4.
You're en route when you're on your way.
You don't say “what" you say 10-9.
You've had arguments about all the OT he's worked and HASN'T put in for.
You miss doing holidays with extended out of town family.
Your family, some of them, still don't understand why "he can't just take the time off."
You know what to look for in a drunk driver.
Your own investigative skills are pretty good and you can tell when your kids are lying.
When your daughter's not home yet and it's three in the morn, you don't hesitate to call the SO and they help you locate her "watching stars" up in the mountains with a boy (and she really is watching stars).
You know just how much you can speed over the limit without inviting a traffic stop.
You refer to getting pulled over as a traffic stop.You're told not to touch his clothes because of something icky on them.
You get poison oak off your husbands uniform because he was "down in the creek looking for bums."
You know what methyl-ethyl-bad-shit is.
You don't call to find out why he's late until its been a couple of hours past when you expected him because he’s rarely home right after work.
You know what choir practice is.
Your husband got to meet Blankie from The Brave  Little Toaster . . . professionally . . . and not in a good way.
Steven Segal looks up to your husband.
Your husband comes home smelling like weed.
Nothing seems to get his adrenaline going and it drives you crazy because you maybe have a few ADD tendencies and all sorts of things are exciting and don't you just see how cool this is?
You listen to the scanner for company and because its comforting to hear his voice.
You've had death threats, kids have had threats, he's had threats. Everyone's been threatened but, thank God, no bad guys have been stupid enough to follow through on those threats.
You're used to tiptoeing around very quietly.
You've had turkey dinner at the office on Thanksgiving.
You've had Christmas dinner at the office.
Your 5 year old refers to her daddy as an owl.
Your sweetheart brings home wild daffodils he picked at the cemetery overnight.
He takes cigar breaks at the cemetery in the middle of the night.
You've cried like your heart is breaking because one of the local deputies was killed in a shoot out.
You have to worry about shoot outs.
You never ever EVER want to see a cop car that isn’t his show up at the house, with another vehicle you may not know, when he's on duty.
You run down to pick the kids up from school or go to the store and he calls you to tell you there's a gun under the seat and just leave it there and don't forget to lock the car.
You have dark curtains around your four poster bed.
You screen all your phone calls.
You know what a blue canary is.
You have to move his belt and his vest from your chair so you can sit down.
There's all sorts of reading material laying around the house, from evidence handling to legal updates to case law to the new computer system.
He gets phone calls at home at all hours when the computer at work crashes, when someone needs to know how to write a search warrant, when someone has a question about whether or not they can search a car, when someone has a question about how to write a report and on and on.
You discuss training scenarios.
You go to wild parties in your younger days, family bbqs in your mid years, and then feel forgotten when you're older because all the young kids are out having their wild parties and family bbqs and they either don't think about inviting you or just figure you know you're welcome, but you don't really realize that because in your day people called to invite you over.
Your granddaughter tells you that Grandpa's job is more important than yours because "he keeps us safe."
You have a drawer with Jim Brown leather equipment, keepers, bullets, batteries, extra flashlights, and a myriad of other things all flung together.
You know what Jim Brown leather is.
You don't have a "honey do" list, you have a "honey, look what I did" list.
It's not yes or no, it's affirmative or negative.
You refer to the PD as your second home.
Your kids run around and play at the PD and don't think that's out of the ordinary.
You’ve always got Tums and baby powder on hand.
He’s had more injuries than a professional football player.
You know more about the meniscus and supraspinatus than you care to.
He has more naked stories than a porn star.
There are photos of evidence, car accidents and random people on his cell phone.
You both joke about you dragging him out to his car if he keels over at home.
You have Tuesday daytime sex.
You know what a donnybrook is.
You know what he's talking about when he says he got a 10851 when he was on his way to C7 and the guy was 11-5 and 148'd him so he went 1015 and sent him south.
He drives past the fire chief/volunteer firefighters/on duty cops/deputies while he's off duty and they flip each other off.
You know the phonetic alphabet.
You can sing the phonetic alphabet to the tune of the regular alphabet song without stumbling.You’re paranoid to let your kids/grandkids out of a fenced yard on their own because you know what can happen, even in sleepy little towns.
You don't like cop/donut comments because your husband works his ass off.
You end up a changed person just as much as he does, though not in the same ways.
You can say that your husband has made a change in the world and you can point out people he's saved, in one way or another, and you're so proud of him and you realize you'd do it all over again, despite all the negatives, because that's just who he is.


There's more, but it's late and my pillow is calling me.  

Law Enforcement Life - IT'S NOT JUST A JOB

I know, I know.  I haven't been on here in AGES.  But here I am now.  A new cop wife on the National Police Wives Association page asked a question that I responded to.  I thought it'd be nice to post my answer here.  I'm not sure how it'll work with formatting, but I'll give it a try.

Her question:

"My husband just started with the sheriff's department and just found out he is going to be working nights. I'm really struggling with it! I have a 2 year old and also due on Aug 4th. I support my hubby and don't want him to see me secretly freaking out that he won't be home @ night and I'm a little nervous that I can't do it all! How did other Leo wives deal with this? Thanks."

My response:

Our small department works 12's and my husband prefers nights as it's when you can get the most done as far as being a crimefighter. After 30 years it's become our normal way of life. 

Someone mentioned reading I Love A Cop by Dr. Ellen Kirschman. It's an excellent book and I highly recommend it. In fact, we recommend it to all of the new cops' families (this includes their parents). I'd also suggest you read Emotional Survival by Dr. Kevin Gilmartin. He's a retired cop and everything he says WILL apply to you and your family. Get to know the other wives in the department and get to know your neighbors. If you need someone in a hurry, and your husband can't get away, they'll come in handy. 

When our kids were little, and not yet in school, we adjusted their schedule to match their daddy's, without getting it too out of whack. Depending on what kind of shift he works (10's, 12's, 8's), you might be able to do that. We let our girls stay up later so they could spend time with him and then we just slept in later. 

You get used to being a married single parent and you just do it because it's what you need to do. Your feelings are going to be hurt many times when he'll be unable to be around for Mother's Day, Easter, Christmas, etc. Get yourself a good support system so you don't end up being alone and lonely on important days. That'll just make you miss him more and make you resentful. We ended up in a small town, 4 hours away from any family members. Getting to know the other families in the department was so important. 

Remember that he really is married to you, not to his job, and that getting home to you and your family is his number one priority, even if it doesn't always feel like it. This is his calling and what you're doing is your calling. BOTH of you are now in this big wide world of "public service." It definitely won't always be appreciated by the outside world, but then again GET YOURSELF A GOOD SUPPORT SYSTEM OF OTHER LEO FAMILIES. Have I said that enough times?  Good luck. I wouldn't trade these last 30 years for anything. 

And . . . no heavy conversations, arguments, fights, etc. before he leaves for work. You don't want a distracted/ticked off cop on the street. It's dangerous for him, dangerous for his partners and dangerous for whomever he needs to protect. 

One more thing . . .  . . .When you're a cop, it's not just for the time you're at work. Go to the grocery store and run into someone with a warrant and he'll end up doing his work on "family" time. He'll get called out when you have plans. He'll have court on his time off. He'll see things happen off duty and he'll need to address them. It's not a job. It's a life. You'll get used to it.

And (one more thing . . . really), if it's allowed in your department, go on ride-alongs when you can. You need to see what your husband does. It will give you a very good understanding of what he has to put up with. It's that whole 8 hours of boredom followed by 30 seconds of sheer terror thing. Plus you'd be amazed at the number of (how to put this nicely) stupid people they have to deal with.

To be continued . . .

Part 2

Everyone lies.
Expecting the worst.
He will change.
He will see bad things.
Keep the house relatively nice and non-chaotic.  His refuge.
Some things he won't tell you.
Some things he can't tell you.
You'll learn how to do things you never thought you'd do and you'll have to do things on your own.

Hmmmm Part 2, aka Small Town Cop Wife Life

Small Town Cop Wife Life it is, but it's not going to be a new blog. It's going to be THIS blog. I've redesigned and renamed and added a bunch of links that I've found helpful over the years. I still have my other favorite blogs listed because our cop life is not our only life. We still have to maintain our perspective on other real stuff and not get myopic.

But . . . I've just discovered I'm really hungry. One of the nice things about him working nights? Having cereal for supper.

More later . . . .

Happy Saint Valentine's Day

Jim's Tribute to Judi

Jim's tribute to Judi

Jim talked a bit about Judi. (The graveside ceremony is the post just before this one.)

Here's the video:

Judi Buchfuehrer's graveside service

Following (in two parts) is the video taken at Judi Buchfuehrer's Orthodox funeral.

Adjusting to life in a small town

We've had an influx of new wives to the PD this year (coincides with new officers . . . go figure) and they've been talking about how hard it is moving away from home. That's made me think about how it was for us so I thought I'd jot down some thoughts. I have to go back and try to put myself in my shoes of 23 years ago and try to really remember how things were "once upon a time."

Moving from the spread-out-everything-within-just-a-few-minutes San Jose/Santa Clara Valley to what-do-you-mean-the-Country-Mall-isn't-a-real-mall town of Willits was a bit of a culture shock. Did I say a bit? Make that HUGE culture shock. I remember the first time I went to Safeway after moving here. I was standing in line to check out and everything was moving so slowly! "Good Lord, can't these people move any faster? What in the world do they have to talk about? For that matter, WHY are they standing there gabbing. Chop! Chop! Get a move on! I've got things to do, people to see, places to go!" This was all going on in my head of course. Well, I didn't really have any of those things to do. I was just still in the SJ mindset. In SJ, checkers actually had little signs posted at their registers telling them to move people through quickly and to NOT TALK. Wow. What a difference from here. Here, I discovered, people all knew each other. Going to the grocery store was a social event. You ALWAYS ran into someone you knew so you'd stop and chat and catch up on the local news and gossip. You also knew all the checkers because you'd been going to the grocery store all your life and you probably went to school with them or their kids and maybe you even used to go over and play there or whatever. So, as I discovered, people chatted in line. They weren't in a hurry (generally speaking) and they weren't rude. It's hard to be rude to someone who you know you're going to have to deal with every single time you go to that store. It's not like there are a lot of options to shop somewhere else. So that was my first experience with the differences between my old home and my new home. My first impression was that they were so SLOW here. Turns out that's not a bad thing to be.

Lest I get sidetracked, let me interject something here. I wasn't only adjusting to an entirely new and different place to live. I was adjusting to a new lifestyle. I'd spent the entire prior year working full-time while Mike stayed home with the girls. I worked in a medium-sized semiconductor company. I was one of the two HR Reps. Before getting married, I worked in HR and was fortunate in that I got to do college recruiting. I went to various colleges on the west coast and got to interview engineering soon-to-be-grads to see if they'd be a good fit for our company. This was back in the day of startup computer companies. You know when the company would provide KEGS on Friday afternoons AT WORK. Ok, so I got sidetracked. Where was I? Oh yeah. Big changes. Back to grocery shopping.

So how long did it take for me to adjust to that one thing? I'm not really sure. I think it was a couple of months. I got to know the checkers so eventually I was able to join in on the chatting.

That first year or so I probably went home once a month or so. Maybe even more because I remember going home when Mike was working. I also probably did that for longer than the first year. My sister's kids are the same ages as mine, within just a few months of each other so we used to do a lot of things together. I missed that and I missed all of them. I didn't have as many friends down there as most of them had moved away, but most of my family was there. At that time it was a four and a half hour drive. There've been a lot of changes to 101 between then and now. Now it only takes three hours and fifteen minutes.

What a culture shock it was coming here. At that time, all there was in Ukiah was a Penney's and a ratty old K-Mart. No Mervyn's, no Kohl's, no Home Depot, Walgreen's or WalMart. There wasn't even a Ray's. It was a big empty shell that had been started but never finished. I think the Rite-Aid was a Thrifty's back then. I went from having everything I needed just minutes away to those things I THOUGHT I needed now hours away. To my utter disbelief, the nearest mall was an hour and a half away. And, hello! The Country Mall? (Currently JD Redhouse) That wasn't a mall! It was an old building with a few little shops and a restaurant in it. I thought I'd die. Not really, but . . . no mall? Really?

I love my old home, but the San Jose I love is the San Jose of the 60's, 70's and early 80's. After we left in 1987, it really started changing. In our own little middle-class neighborhood, houses were torn down and big mansions built. Whole cities were completely changed so that now I don't recognize them. I lived there for nearly 30 years and now when I go down there, because so much of it has changed so much that it's unrecognizable, I lose my bearings and get lost! Thankfully, some of it hasn't changed at all so, in parts of it, I can still feel like it's my old hometown. Now there's only one sister left in San Jose. That means that I only go down there a few times a year. I wish it was more, though, because I miss her and I still miss "home."

You know, when we decided to move up here, we intended to stay in Willits for two years or so. In April we'll have been here 23 years. This town kind of grows on you. :o) You get invested in it and in peoples' lives. It takes a while, though. Before we moved up here, we had one weekend to find a place to live. Our first home was in a dark, very shaded house off of Birch. (Thank you Jack Tuttle and Jim Miller for showing up to help us unload our very first day here!) It was down a hill and in a little valley. It was great for walking down to Summer Lake . . . when there was a Summer Lake . . . and for taking walks and hiking on the logging trails. That part of it was great. But we absolutely froze during the wintertime. We weren't at all prepared. Thankfully, we were able to find someplace else after a couple of years. That was a couple of years too long, though.

Other than people at the PD, I started meeting people through my kids. It took about a year, though, because they were only 2 and 3 1/2 when we moved here. They didn't go to preschool, but when Cherlyn started kindergarten, I started making non-PD friends. It was kind of difficult, too, because when we came here, EVERYONE else had either been here for years or they'd lived here forever. There wasn't anyone else with little kids. In fact, the next oldest ones were in high school. The PD definitely wasn't as much of a family place as it is now. I didn't really know the other wives very well. (In fact, some of them had nothing at all to do with the PD.)

That first year was a difficult one. Mike started in April and in August, he and two of the other guys went to a call where a man was refusing to give his son back after visitation. It was in the Van Hotel (back when those were apartments). They got there and the guy had a gun. Turned out one of the guys had to shoot him with, Mike and the other guy as his backup. It was a bit stressful for me. I think what I remember about it the most was Mike coming home from work and us getting the girls up from bed and then going over to one of the guys' house for a bit of a debriefing. The other two guys and their wives were sent to a shrink for a formal debriefing but for some reason they didn't send the rookie and his wife. Go figure. We went to Disneyland on vacation a week or two after it happened and I remember a comment being made about that being our debriefing. Dumb, dumb, dumb. I could've used it.

Mike was in his dream job and he threw himself at it completely. So much so that the rest of us didn't receive as much attention. In fact, after about a year and a half we had to have a "come to Jesus meeting." Things were not good, but they got better after that. For the wives/girlfriends new to this line of work, I would heartily suggest you go on as many ride-alongs as your husband/boyfriend will agree to. I know it's hard with little ones. I rarely went on any because we never had anyone to watch the girls. I always felt left out because there were a couple of other wives who were able to do it whenever they wanted and I couldn't. It's important, though, so that you know what's going on at work. What's the saying? Hours of boredom following by 30 seconds of sheer terror? That's close enough. That's fodder for another note, though.

Back in the older days of the PD, we used to have lots of socializing, plenty of barbecues. I miss those a lot. I think the last time we did anything was at Heiken's house before someone left . . . Tim Snider? No, wait. Jeff did the pumpkin carving at his house. Ok. Never mind what I said. But we need to do more. :o)

I said a ways back that we only intended to stay here for a couple of years and then move on. We actually almost did move on four or five years ago. Mike applied at Sonoma SO and actually got to the background point. Apparently they really wanted him because they kept bugging him and bugging him to do it, but he didn't. He kept putting it off. I finally asked him if he thought maybe there was a reason for that, that maybe he really didn't want to leave. Part of him did (want to leave), but a bigger part of him felt like he needed to stay, that there was still more to do here. So we stayed. Our retirement won't be as good as if we'd left (like probably by half!), but we both think we did the right thing by staying. Others left at the same time for their own reasons . . . all of them good and valid, but we stayed for our own reasons . . . also good and valid. You have to do what's best for your own family, for what feels right for you.

So to the newer people I would say, welcome to your new home. Get to know people. Get involved. Learn about your husband's job. Stay focused on the two of you . . . let him know that there is life outside his job and he needs to remember that. Still visit your old home. Give yourself time to move your heart from there to here. It takes a while, but it will get better. Oh. And Spring, Summer and Fall are beautiful here! They make up for wet, cold, grey, depressing winters. Wait until you see the lilacs and daffodils in the Spring.

The Last Lecture, Randy Pausch

I just watched this lecture, having read the book last week. I happened to pick the book up last month but hadn't opened it until I was talking to a very dear friend who is dying from pancreatic cancer. Dave and his wife, Cheryl, encouraged me to read the book and told me that they'd bought copies for their kids. I highly recommend both the book and the lecture to everyone. There are a few books that I would classify as "life changing." This is one of them.

New Year

"What a fellowship, what a joy divine, leaning on the everlasting arms, what a blessed mix, what a peace is mine, leaning on the everlasting arms. Leaning, leaning, safe and secure from all alarm, leaning, leaning, leaning on the everlasting arms."

I love the start of a new year. It's a time to start over, to not worry about what didn't get done the year before. I can let it all go and start from scratch. My mind is whirring with all of the things I want to do. Topping the list is our bedroom.

"When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul. It is well, it is well, it is well, it is well, it is well, it is well with my soul. My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought! My sin, not in part but the whole, is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more, Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!"

Not only do I get to begin anew, I get to begin anew with Mike on days. That's normally not a shift we prefer, but when it's 12 hours of graves or 12 hours of days, I prefer the days. It means that I can work in our bedroom and get it to looking like a bedroom again, as opposed to a storage room with a bed.

"On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross, the emblem of suffering and shame; and I love that old cross where the dearest and best for a world of lost sinners was slain. So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross, till my trophies at last I lay down; I will cling to the old rugged cross, and exchange it some day for a crown."

The new year was ushered in rather quietly with me riding with Mike until 1 am or so. The snap, crackle and pop of the fireworks resonating across town was the only "excitement" which is ok by me. I don't even think they got a deuce, it was fairly quiet. Not bad for 6 hours of OT.

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father; there is no shadow of turning with Thee; Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not; As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be. Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness! Morning by morning new mercies I see. All I have needed Thy hand hath provided; Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

2008 promises to be a year full of change. There's an excellent chance that Katie and Emma will be moving out. It all hinges on Katie being hired as a dispatcher by the PD. She scored well on the initial test and her oral is scheduled for the 11th. If all goes well, she could start there in March or so . . . maybe even February. India turns 18 at the end of March and she's already saying that she's moving then. It would not surprise me in the least if she wants to go live with her aunt. I just want to see her graduate and then I can relax a little. We could conceivably have an empty house come April!

2008 could very well be The Year of Adjusting.

More a little later on Mom's Guide to Dating or What I've Tried To Teach My Three Daughters About Picking A Good Man Based On What I Learned The Hard Way.

On Reaching 25 Years of Marriage - A Different Perspective

Today is our 25th wedding anniversary. I am 51 and Mike is 47 1/2. Cherlyn is 23 1/2, Katie is 22, India is 17. Our grandchildren, Emma and Bobby are 2 and almost 2.

When Mom and Dad celebrated their 25th on June 18, 1979, Mom was 45 1/2 and Dad was 44 1/2. Pat was 24, I was 23, Tim was 21, Beck was 20 and Ted was 17. The first grandchild wouldn't arrive for another 3 years.

When Grandma and Grandpa Mohler celebrated their 25th in September of 1957, Grandma had just turned 42 (I think) and Grandpa was 48. Mom was 23, almost 24 and Dad was 22, almost 23. Pat was 2 and I was 1.

When Grandma and Grandpa Sherman celebrated their 25th in 1946 (I think), Grandma was 47 1/2 and Grandpa was 56. Aunt Madelynne was 24, Uncle Bob was 22 and Dad was just 12. Uncle Bob had returned from the war just a year earlier and there weren't any grandchildren yet.

Of course, my dates could be mixed up on some of this, but this is, at the least, generally correct. My point? Absolutely none at all . . . just some thoughts that rolled through my head today.

We Meet, We Court, We Marry OR . . . What In The Hell Are You Thinking?

Dad suggested that we take the time to put some of our thoughts to paper so I thought I would start with this one. (It's also probably the most interesting story I "own.")

Almost 26 years ago, on August 8, 1981, Mike Scofield and Melodee Sherman met. In my mind, it wasn't your typical "boy meets girl" kind of meeting. Patty and Pete were engaged and their wedding was just a month away. Pat and her dog, Benson, were going to move from the house she shared with another girl into the little house in Willow Glen that she and Pete would be living in after they were married. Pete was still living with a bunch of guys in a house in Cupertino (I think). I told Pat I'd help them move her and Pete was going to get some guy from his work to use one of the work trucks to get all of Pat's stuff to the new house.

Imagine a beautiful summer day in San Jose. The sky was a vivid blue, the mountains were crisp and clear and the air was warm enough to wear shorts, yet cool enough to still be comfortable. It was one of those perfect San Jose summer mornings that make me miss living there.

I was living alone (another story and one I wish everyone could have) and got up that morning to head on over to Pat's "old" house. It was out somewhere off Camden and I told them I'd meet them there. So there I am, toodling down San Tomas Expressway, past Bubb Road but not quite to Camden. There's this annoying truck that's driving too slow so I pull alongside it, rather than follow behind. It's in the center lane and I'm in the slow lane. Then the annoying person driving the annoying truck starts honking at me. What a jerk. I figure it's just some weirdo. After a few minutes, though, I glance to my left and there are Pat and Pete waving at me through the annoying truck's window. Ah! That explains the honking. I follow them to Pat's house and hop out of my car and into Pat's house before I see the driver of the truck.

Pat and I meet up her in room and she starts telling me about this really cute guy who's helping Pete. She tells me that when they first drove up alongside me, he looked down at my car and said something along the lines of, "Nice legs!" Pete looked over to check out what Mike was checking out, looked back at Mike and said, "That's her sister." Uh-oh. Mike's in trouble. Smooth move oogling your boss's future sister-in-law with your boss's future wife sitting in your truck. Pat tells me all of this so I ask her how old he is. He's 21. Darn. I'm 25. He's a bit young for me. At least that's what I thought until I saw him. Up Pat's sidewalk walks this really cute, muscley-armed, wavy-haired, muscley guy. Did I mention he was really cute and had muscley arms? And that's when all the playful banter started. It didn't end until after we had lunch (Wendy's on Bascom) and he'd left. In between all the playful banter, I found out he was a Christian. I also found out that we seemed to get along really well and, in my mind, would make a good couple. He told me that he joined the Air Force and was due to leave in about nine days. Seeing as how I currently had a boyfriend and he, according to him, had a love interest in L.A., it didn't seem as if there was a future. Because I was such a good citizen, though, and I knew someone who'd been a cop in the Air Force (his chosen field), I told him I'd write him. Not sure why because I certainly didn't have his address. At least not at that point. I did give him my phone number, though. We said our goodbyes and I figured that was the last I'd see or hear of him. It was really unfortunate, though, because he seemed like such a nice guy.

That night, Pat and Pete were at my apartment helping me put up a waterbed. I think it had been Pat's and she gave it to me. Anyway, they were there, along with my boyfriend du jour. When the phone rang, I really didn't give any thought to the chance it might be HIM. It was. Du jour was not happy. Know what? Who cares. We were on the way out and whether cute muscley guy worked out or not, du jour was headed for the scrap heap. It took me a week to come to those conclusions, though, and to get the guts up to call cute muscley guy. I finally get the guts to make the call and who answers the phone but his step-mom . . . only to tell me he'd left THAT DAY for Texas for his four-year commitment to the Air Force. Oh well. Wasn't meant to be.

Fast forward a few weeks. I finally break up with boyfriend du jour and figure, what the heck, I'll send a letter to cute muscley guy (let's call him Mike) in Texas. Trouble was I didn't have his address. Oh well. How many Mike Scofield's could there be at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio Texas? How big could the base be? How difficult could it be to get a letter to him? I wrote a very nice short letter and addressed it to: Mike Scofield, Basic Training, Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio, Texas. That should get to him, right?

So I completely forgot about him and went about my daily life not giving the letter, or him, a second thought. Right. Can you see ME doing that? No. I went to work and dated a little but kept thinking about him and if he'd write me back. After a month of no word, I figured he was more interested in his love interest in L.A. and not in me. Darn. He really seemed like a nice guy. And a Christian. And cute.

Right around mid-October I caught a nasty bug and stayed home from work for a few days. Because I felt so sick, I didn't get out to my mailbox every day. When I was finally feeling better, I made the long trek from my apartment down to the mailboxes and OH MY GOODNESS! I had a letter from HIM! I immediately called one of my best friends, Scott Prewett. Scott and I had been friends since the ninth grade and had sort of latched onto each other in the last year or so. He was my self-appointed guardian and "steady date." We hung out a lot and generally supported each other. "Scott! I got a letter from him! I got a letter!" I was very calm and totally in control of myself. Scott and I got together that night at Harry's Hofbrau so that he could read THE LETTER, too. It was your typical "I'm in the air force and I'm writing a letter to a girl I just met" letter. Except that the very end went something like this, "P.S. Oh yeah, wanna get married?" It was totally tongue-in-cheek but lifted my spirits beyond anywhere they'd been for several years. It appeared that someone really nice LIKED ME.

Here's where my memory is a little fuzzy and may have events reversed. Doesn't really matter. It all happened around the same time. Either right before the letter, or right after the letter, or the same day as the letter, Mike called me. I remember I was sick at home so it was probably right before or after I got his letter. It was the first of many phone calls and he warned me that he might not be able to write again for a while because they were so busy. He was right. It was another few weeks before I heard from him again. That was just the beginning, though. Over the next few months, he called and we would talk for hours late at night. We wrote countless letters. Seems like there was always one in transit. I still have them all, from me to him and him to me. This was how we got to know each other. We talked and wrote about everything that was going on, that had been going on, that we hoped would be going on. It seemed almost too good to be true.

This is when the opposition from the family began. Mom and Dad were opposed to me being in any relationship because I'd been married for a short time and was divorced. Where Mom and Dad went, everyone else usually followed. (Except Aunt Madelynne. She never said anything negative. I think she just left it up to me and kept her opinions to herself. My guess is that it was because she'd been where I was.) That was back in the unconditional day of no remarrying, for any reason, any time, anywhere. Period. No grace. "You had your shot. You blew it. That's it." It sounds harsh, but Dad was a pastor then and in a different place from where he is today. Mom, too. I think Justice was more important back then than Grace. I like it better now. Suffice it to say, it definitely put a damper on things. It was hard to share my happiness with those I loved the most when those I loved the most were not happy with my happiness. Oh well. It was how things were and they turned out ok. We are all responsible for ourselves and, as Dad used to say, "you reap what you sow." Everyone had to be responsible to themselves and God for their own convictions. I accepted that and, as Forrest Gump said, "That's all I'm going to say about that."

Through October, November and December we wrote letters and called each other. He was due home just before Christmas for two weeks of leave before he started his next training so all of our energies were gearing up for that time. I really didn't know what to expect and we kind of left things open, just in case we really weren't meant for each other. Fortunately, that didn't turn out to be the case and we had the best two weeks I could have imagined. Because we'd talked so much and written so many letters, we already knew each other even before we actually got to spend time with each other. The two weeks went much too quickly and before we knew it, January 6 was here and he had to go back. We'd spent some time talking about our future, but things were left up in the air when he left.

On January 9, I was at his parent's house for something and he called there looking for me. We chatted a bit about inconsequential stuff and then about marriage and the future. Still nothing decided. Then he changed the subject, "Ok, enough about all of that. Now I want to change the subject. Will you marry me?" Was he kidding? He even had to ask? Of course I'd marry him! His parents must have thought I'd gone wacko with all the screaming and yelling on the phone. They must've thought we were nuts, too, but they never said anything. His little sister was thrilled, I was thrilled, he was thrilled.

The folks, though, were not so thrilled. My Dad's response was, "I don't know who is more stupid. Him for asking or you for saying yes." Sounds harsh but I don't look at it that way any more. I have a much different perspective now that I'm a parent of marrying age daughters. We must have been insane. Good Lord, if one of my kids did that to me, I think I'd about have a heart attack. What am I saying? One of my kids DID put me through that and I did everything I could to talk her and her fiance out of getting married. In looking back, I'd say my folks' reactions were pretty mellow compared to mine. : )

Mike and I started to make plans for how we were going to do all of this. Our original plan was for him to come home in the summer and we'd get married then. Mom and Dad, though, were really trying to make me think about what we were doing and to at least spend some time together before we got married. This was probably not what they were thinking of, but we decided that I would quit my job and move to Texas to be around him before we married. We decided the date of my leaving would be in early April and started to get ready. I put in my notice at my apartment and moved out the first of March and moved in with Aunt Madelynne. That was one of the best things I ever did. That, too is another story. I found an apartment in Arlington, Texas, about half an hour from Carswell AFB in Fort Worth. My friends at my job gave me a letter saying I had a job with our office in Dallas so that gave me the credit I needed for my new apartment. I figured I would get a temp job when I got moved in. Mike arrived in early April and he, Scott, Kevin, Pat and Pete and I got all my stuff from storage moved into a big U-Haul truck. On April 6, 1982 I left the only home I ever knew and headed off to somewhere I'd never been with someone I was hoping would be the love of my life. Through the grace of God and a lot of hard work, it's turned out to be true. I remember Dad telling me shortly before I left, "Don't feel like you have to go through with getting married. If you get out there and it's not what you thought it would be, just come home. Don't feel like you HAVE to do it. You can back out."

Just three days after arriving in Arlington, I was driving Mike back to the base and my car died. I had it towed to a friend of a friend's only to find out the engine was fried because all of the oil drained out of the engine while it was being towed from California to Texas. Oh joy. I don't remember how I paid for it to get fixed because it cost me $1000 to have the engine rebuilt. I remember I used my American Express card and I started working temp jobs immediately. Dad also helped me out by sending some money. Boy, I really didn't want to ask for that help, but I needed to. Mike, of course, was pitching in his measly paychecks, but the government didn't pay A1C's very much.

About a month or six weeks after I got moved to Texas, Mike got new orders. He'd been accepted to Bomb Dog School in San Antonio! The school was three and a half months long and he was starting in early June! Wow. That kind of put a change in our plans. He was going to school for three and a half months. I was going to be in Arlington alone without a safety net. At this point, I felt as sure as I felt I needed to be that he was my future. Because of that, the plan we came up with seemed a natural one. We decided that we'd get married BEFORE he went off to school so that I would be a military wife and would have that as my safety net. If he got orders before he got out of bomb dog school, which was a sure thing, I would be included. I wouldn't be left stranded in Texas if he got sent somewhere else. I would have medical coverage. I would have an additional income because his pay would go up as a married person. On June 1, 1982 he practically dragged me up the steps of the Tarrant County Courthouse (I was still scared, even though I was sure) where we were married by Justice of the Peace Morris E. Howeth. Our friend, Bobby Brown, was our witness and photographer. Unfortunately, though, it was a brand new camera and he didn't have it properly loaded so the only photo from our wedding day is my military ID card taken later that afternoon.

We decided not to tell any of the family about getting married because we were already working on wedding plans for that September. It wasn't until August that we finally told everyone. Mom and Dad were somewhat relieved but his folks were not so happy. His folks wanted to be there when we got married and it was kind of a letdown for them that they felt we'd just be going through the motions when we were home in September. For Mom and Dad, it took the pressure of approving whether or not we got married off because it was already a done deal. We went home in September and were married in front of our friends and family on September 25, 1982.

That's the story of us. If any of you had done the same, I'd have said you were crazy. When Cherlyn and Rob did it to us, I said they were crazy. Like I said before, through the grace of God and a lot of hard work, we're where we're are today. The race isn't finished yet but we are persevering. It's constant work. You don't just get to 25 years and say, "Whew, we're here. We've arrived." We haven't arrived yet. We're still working. We will still be working at 26 years, 30 years, 37 years, 43 years, and on and on. Until we arrive in Heaven. Then we'll know it worked and we've arrived.

For the record, it's my opinion that marriage is not just here on earth. In my opinion, it's eternal. I figure that God made Adam and Eve and intended the Garden to be eternal. It was supposed to be Paradise but they screwed it up. Because the original plan was meant to be eternal, I figure Adam and Eve's relationship was supposed to be eternal. That, I think, was the original plan. If that is all true, then, in my opinion, marriage was intended to be eternal. If marriage is an illustration of Christ's relationship with the Church, then it is eternal, because Christ's relationship with the Church is eternal.

Each of your parents has their own story of how each of them became a "we." I hope that you will learn it from them and be able to pass it along to your own kids. It's a part of you and your family, and of all of us.