note: In the last post, Sailor made a comment and reminded me of something that happened when we were newly weds. Here is what happened. . .
Saturday afternoon:
Sailor is serving at a football game as an *usher for the Elder's Quorum.
*Back in the olden days, when the Church was allowed to do fund-raisers, all sorts of creative ways were discovered to raise money. One was to usher the College football games. He would spend all afternoon standing by a portal, taking tickets and watching to make sure people had paid to get in to see the game.
Meanwhile back at the apartment, I'm watching a tiny black and white TV, usually an old Star Trek rerun and gestating. He was a student at the university. This was our very first fall as a married couple.
Suddenly the phone rings and startles me out of my haze.
Hello? I say.
Hello? May I speak to Sailor? a very cute young girly voice says.
He is not here.
OK, thanks.
15 minutes later:
phone rings again
Hello?
same cute voice says: May I speak to Sailor?
me again, a bit concerned: He is not here, may I take a message?
no that's OK. Bye
15 minutes later:
phone rings AGAIN
Hello?
same cute voice says: May I speak to Sailor?
me now I am becoming alarmed: He is not here, may I take a message?
no that's OK. B'Bye.
hmmmmmmmm. what the . . .?
10 minutes later:
phone rings again!
Hello?
same cute voice again says: May I speak to Sailor?
me again, now I am getting curious and concerned: He is not here.
May.I.take.a.message?
no that's OK.
Finally, she calls again. By now I am agitated.
same cute voice says: May I speak to Sailor?
He still is not here.
She is getting curious as well and asks, Who is this?
My voice has now taken on a frosty tone:
This Is His WIFE
the last word was emphasized with as much ice as I could put into it.
There was an audible gasp!
NO! He can't be married! When did he get married?
We got married last June.
(another gasp)
Are we talking about the same Sailor? 5' 6", blond hair, brown eyes?
No, I reply quite relieved, my Sailor is 6'3" brown hair, blue eyes.
Cute girl giggles sounding nervous yet really relieved.
There can't be two Sailors?
We decided there must be. I was relieved and amused by now.
::jump ahead 4 months::
We have moved to a tiny house by a race horse farm
phone rings (male voice on the other end: May I speak to Sailor?
he is not here, may I take a message?
This is So-and-So from The Insurance Agency. He was in a bicycle accident and I want to talk to him about the specifics.
That cannot possibly be. We live in a tiny house 5 miles out of town, sir. He drives a truck to school.
Is this Sailor's residence?
Yes, it is. I am his wife. He cannot possibly have been in an accident, his bicycle is sitting outside my front window! I am looking at it right now as we speak. I know there are two Sailors in town. You will have to find the other one.
::jump ahead two more months::
we have moved yet again. Now we are living in town in a tiny duplex. I get the mail. A check for the amount of $40 written to Sailor from an insurance company. I remember the bicycle accident.
Now comes the inner dilemma. It is legally written to Sailor. We could easily and legally cash it if we were the dishonest sort, or I will have to do some sleuthing. I am not sure how I found out, but the other person with my husband's name lived in a fraternity house, so he had no listing in the phone book. I finally located him and called. I first asked him if he had been in a bicycle accident, just in case there were more than two people with my husband's name. Then I explained the whole situation. He agreed to come to our house and retrieve the check that was rightfully his. We finally met. I wish I had snapped a picture.
Now if you don't personally know me, you may wonder. But his name is not something common like John Smith. As a matter of fact, before I met Sailor, I had never heard of his last name. According to the chart in the last post, it is the 888th most popular name in the US.
Since I have been married 33 years, I have run into many, many people who say, OH, I know someone with that name. Are you related to. . .?
But in my naive youth, I truly believed there was only one Sailor. And yet, for me, he is THE ONLY ONE. I love you dear Sailor.
Anyway, that's my story. . .and I am sticking to it.
~a
2 comments:
That story would have unnerved me a bit if it would have happened to me in my first marriage.
...for good reason too...
My husband's first name is spelled differently than any other spelling. People are forever trying to correct his 'typo'. His dad tells the story that it's because he didn't know how to spell that name and gave it his best shot.
Hi Dear Friend,
You told the story well! :) That was a couple of strange events. Dear Annie, you are the one for me as well. Love you.
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