Ok, I'm going to do it...

No, Sheila, I am NOT having another baby.

I am going to write a book. I decided what I wanted to write in the shower tonight. By the way, if I could get away with it I would like to take fewer showers, as it appears my brain hits overdrive in the steam.

But anyway, because I know you are in suspense, waiting with baited breath, I am going to write a book of (drum roll please.....)

(Wait for it...)

(Here it comes...)

My family. My family's stories, to be more specific. Sadly, you may have to have had the great fortune of being born into my family (or brave gumption to have married into it) to ever read the whole thing. But I will post stories from time to time here. Amongst the basketball movies and snow pictures. The first one will be about how my grandparents met.

How my grandparents met:

My grandfather was drafted into World War II. He was sent to Missouri (Miz-ur-ah, if you please) for basic training, and was trained to be an airplane mechanic. He was then eventually shipped overseas to Okinawa Japan, but fortunately it was after the U.S. had already taken the little island, and the fighting there was over.

But while in Missouri, he met the love of his life. He had been fully intending, or at least expected, to marry a young lady from his hometown of Riley, Maine. She was a very nice young lady, and had the U.S. Army not intervened this story you are about to read would likely have been very different. There is even the slightest chance it would not have been worth writing, though if you knew my granddad, it probably would.

You see, while stationed at the base in Missouri, he had a pass with some of his Army buddies to leave the base. They decided to see a movie, and while standing outside the movie theater, these three men saw three young ladies. Without hesitation, my granddad’s buddies paired off with two of the ladies. My granddad looked at my grandmother, and asked if she would like to join him. Her response spoke volumes, “Well, I’m not about to stand out here by myself, am I?”

I have often wondered about that. Was she sarcastic in her tone, I really don’t think so. I have seen the senior pictures my grandparents had taken, and they were both very good-looking people. I wonder what he must have thought, in the 40’s, having a woman speak like that. Did he think she had spunk? Did he cringe and think the only reason she joined him was to avoid the awkward circumstance of standing outside alone?
They haven’t shared with me what prompted them to meet up again. I do not know if they, or the friends they were each with, exchanged phone numbers or other details. None of that has mattered to me, I simply hang on to those marvelous words, “Well, I’m not about to stand out here by myself, am I?”