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A Loving Reality

7 Jan

I had a medical procedure that required going under anesthesia. Before all of the action took place, I was looking out the window. Cars and trucks were going down the interstate. Flags were flying in the wind. The world was moving as I sat with tube and wires hooked to me.

Then, a scenario formulated in my mind. What if someone was put under anesthesia and they woke up in an alternate reality. Not one of those realities where the world is turned upside down. I mean an alternate reality with changes that are not immediately noticeable.Flag

A flag with 53 stars.

20-wheelers instead of 18-wheelers.

As the person goes along for a few days, they begin to notice these slight differences and realize that they add up to one big alternate reality. I am sure there are Twilight Zone and Star Trek episodes that deal with such things.

May years ago, I started writing a story about a guy who had a wreck and ended up in a coma. When he woke up, his life was completely different from the one he remembered. He was totally confused and had to figure out what was going on. Was this his real life? Was he still in a coma? Were the memories he thought were real only figments of his broken imagination?

I never finished that story. Other things in life gobbled up the time, and I put it away for a while. You know how it is when that happens. The thing you put away is lost forever.

There was a time in my life when I wished I could transfer to an alternate reality. I was lost in a lot of ways and was in psychological shambles. I no longer wish for alternate realities because this reality is the one I want.

When I woke up, they called my wife into the room, and she was by my side when the doctor came in for his consultation. She has spent the rest of the day taking care of me.

I am happy with this reality because I am loved, and there is nothing more real than that.

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The Ghosts of Posts Past

21 Dec

A long time ago, I published a post called “Only the Rocks Live Forever.” You can read the link, but the title kind of speaks for itself. Unfortunately, that title is wrong.

Let me explain.

This blog began as a suggestion by my therapist. My mind would become overwhelmed with all manner of thoughts that dealt with all manner of issues. It was great to relieve some of that psychological pressure in her office, but she felt that something else would help. Hence, this blog was born.

In the beginning, this thing was anonymous, and I railed on anything and everything that brought frustration. This ranged from the ridiculousness of everyday life to complaints about the people around me, from family to friends.

One day, I realized that the blog was no longer anonymous when I received a negative comment about one of the posts. It was a cruel post based on a scene from a movie. The post was deleted and rewritten in a nicer way. However, I knew that the blogging experience had changed, and the blog would have to change with it.

I read through the posts and deleted all of the ones that I felt would be harmful to the people around me. The frustrated, cynical, therapist induced blog was dead, and a new one was born. I began publishing posts on Twitter, and the page views shot up. People all around me started reading posts about travel, concerts, and any dumb thing I could think up.

A few minutes ago, I learned that it is not just the rocks that live forever. Blog posts live forever, too. The task of deleting all posts that would hurt people proved impossible. On December 21, 2011, I wrote a post about my terrible day. I blasted just about everything and everyone that I encountered. It was a full-blown therapy post from the time of blogging anonymity.

One of the people in the post just read it and asked me to delete it. That post no longer exists, and I am sorry for hurting them.

The post came a few weeks after the blog began, and I was only averaging 5 readers a day. Essentially, I was writing for myself because I was the only one reading it. I had to get that day out of my mind.

Those are not excuses. I knew that the Internet was a public forum and decided to put my thoughts into its tangled web. Then, I naively thought I could get rid of everything negative and turn the blog into something else. It did not work.

Today is December 21, 2014, and I am a completely different person than I was when this blog began. Back then, I was working my way out of a bad place and needed an outlet to help me crawl out. Today, I am in a wonderful place and am happier than I have ever been. There are a ton of real life reasons that have put me into this place, but I am convinced that this blog has played a large role. In that way, it worked.

For everyone that has read this blog and been hurt by it, I apologize.

For everyone who has read this blog and enjoyed it, I am glad that you have.

For everyone who has read, liked and commented, I say thank you.

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“Too Tall” Tree – The Story of My Eccentricities

27 Jun

When I was a kid, my mom always tried to get me to have other kids over to play. She talked about calling the kid down the road. She hosted birthday parties. She threw a Halloween party that became a famous event in our family’s history. All the time, she tried to figure out ways to get kids to the house. She even told me that she was shy as a child and never had other kids over. It was a regret that she did not want me to have.

Yep, my mom tried to guilt me into having kids over to play.

Sometimes, I agreed to it. However, most times I was comfortable playing alone and using my imagination. There were Hot Wheels that could be crashed or turned into a miniature NASCAR race. There was this awesome football game where you put a disc into the player, and the radio announcer told you what happened on the play. There was also a basketball goal where imaginary last second shots could be hoisted.

One of my favorite games was “Too Tall” Tree.image-2

I got a football and pretended that the trees were defenders. I had to get through them to score a touchdown. I did the play-by-play at the same time. Being a Cowboys fan, I named one of the trees after Ed “Too Tall” Jones. It was years later that I learned that Jones played college ball at Tennessee State University in Nashville.

Anyway, I took the ball from center, and, when “Too Tall” Tree blocked my ability to pass, I took off down the field. It sounds weird, but it was a lot of fun when I was little.

I think my parents and other people thought it was weird way back then. I overheard people saying that I was selfish and did not want other kids playing with my toys. I guess that was the only reason they could think of why a kid did not want other kids around. Well, there was another reason. I was not comfortable around people.

All of this came to mind during a conversation with my wife. At some point, she asked, “You don’t like people do you?”

That is absolutely not true. I like all kinds of people, but, at times, I am still not comfortable around them. This is really true when it comes to strangers. I have never been good at starting a conversation with a complete stranger. I cannot think of anything to say. No witty comments come from the back of my mind. Simply, it is something that brings a lot of discomfort.

I do not start conversations with people sitting next to me on a plane. I do not start conversations with somebody at a bar.

Certainly, this has caused me to miss out on meeting some great and interesting people. I know that more than anyone.

During that same conversation, my wife asked how I have met people. That is a good question. I have met a lot of great people, and many of them have become my friends. Mostly, I have met new people through people who I have already known. That way they are not a complete stranger. In the modern business vernacular, that is called networking.

Of course, some people who have no problems approaching a stranger have started conversations with me. I met one of my best friends that way.

This is an issue that I have fought through all of my life. It was discussed in therapy, and it is something that I try to overcome. It is something that has hindered me through the years.

During my teenage years, I felt sorry for myself because I was not part of the cool kid groups. I did not get the messages that there were parties going on. There was this feeling of being left out. Another reason this post came to mind is because that feeling came back several days ago. There was an event that took place which I was not invited to. Internally, I acted like a child for a few hours, but it helped me put this post together.

I realize now, and knew deep down back then, that I was at fault for not opening myself up to people. If I had been more outgoing toward people who I did not know, then those people would have been more welcoming to me.

I have no idea if this post makes sense, and I have no idea how to end it. I know that I have missed out on some great people and some great opportunities. However, I know that there are a lot of great people in my life who would do anything for me just as I would do anything for them.

Am I still uncomfortable talking to strangers? Yes. I can barely do it, and I admire those who can. However, I have met a lot of people, and I like most of them. Like everyone else, there are some people who I can do without.

 

 

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Kingsport, Tennessee

17 Feb

One of the people I follow on Twitter mentioned that his hometown is Kingsport, Tennessee, a city that was the site of a major event in my family’s history.

The summer of 1991 was going along like any other. I was spending my summer break working on the loading dock at my dad’s business. My brother was running the manufacturing side of the business. My mom was handling things around the house. My dad, who we all leaned on, was overseeing it all. Then, the situation changed.

My dad drove to Kingsport for a meeting of a bank board of which he was a member, while we went through a typical day. Work was long and hot, and I was glad to get home to take a shower. I was in my closet getting dressed when I heard the phone ring, and I was still in my closet when my mom told me the news. My dad had a stroke after his meeting and was being taken to Holston Valley Medical Center.

After that moment, my memories become hazy. I finished getting dressed while my mom called my brother. At some point, we were all together with my grandparents waiting for a call from the doctor. We were under the impression that it had not been a serious stroke, but that impression vanished when the doctor explained that we needed to get there as fast as possible.

I cannot remember anyone talking on the drive to Kingsport, and it is not a short drive. I sat in the backseat as my brother drove. It AC was cranked up, but no one mentioned changing it. I stared out the window and remember thinking that we were going through downtown Knoxville pretty fast.

We arrived at the hospital and took the elevator to the Intensive Care Unit. That is when the gravity of the situation became apparent. All of the bank board members were lining the hallway in the suits. It was the most somber looking group I had ever seen. One of them took us to the ICU desk, and the nurse immediately got the doctor.

It was a conversation that I will never forget. My dad would probably die within the next three days. If he did not die, then he would remain in a vegetated state. Before going in to see him, the doctor explained that they were going to freeze his brain to stop the bleeding. If that did not stop the bleeding, then there was no chance.

My dad was hooked up to every machine imaginable. Wires. Tubes. It was as if the machines were keeping him alive. We talked to him without knowing if he could hear us or not. When we left, there was no plan. We had nowhere to stay and nowhere to go. My mom and I tried to stay in the hotel room that my dad had booked, but she could not stay there. That is when we were given a room in the family area of the hospital. The bed was terrible, but it did not matter. None of us could have slept.

That began our two weeks in Kingsport, Tennessee while my dad fought for his life. Most of that time was spent in the ICU waiting room with other families who were facing similar circumstances. In the days before cellphones, people could only call us at phone in the room. It was constantly ringing. Businesspeople. Politicians. From all over the country, people were calling. It got to the point where other families were mad because we were tying up the phone line. That is when we started taking calls at the nurse’s desk.

I can remember being hungry all of the time. There was a hotdog stand outside, and I ate more hotdogs than I could count. When the going gets tough, I eat. I can remember my mom promising God that she would never get mad at my dad again if he came out of this. We laughed and said that she should not lie to God during a time like this. I can remember my brother going back to work because somebody had to run the business. Our competitors were already lurking around our customers.

A lot of people made the long drive to visit us. My grandparents came up. My friend Chris came up with his new wife. My friends Robert and Dallus came up. I think they got lost on the way. I feel bad because after that long drive I wanted them to ride me around town. I wanted out of the hospital. We found an abandoned bridge, and I just sat on it for a while.

We also got a visit from Sister Stafford, a pastor and missionary from our town. My mom asked if she had driven all that way by herself. Sister Stafford replied, “No, God came with me, but God didn’t tell me how far it was.” She brought food and showed my mom how to bless him. She took my mom’s hands and told her what to say. By this time, my dad’s brain had stopped bleeding, and he was out of ICU. When my mom went to his room, she did as she was told. She laid hands on him and said the words. He looked at her like she was crazy.

After that, my dad starting getting better, and the doctor scheduled a transfer to Vanderbilt Hospital for further care and rehabilitation. Our time in Kingsport ended, but my dad was just beginning a long journey. He did not die, and he did not stay in a vegetative state. Through years of rehab, he learned to walk and do things with his left hand. His right side is paralyzed, and his speech is affected. However, everything else is great.

Since 1991, he has seen my brother have two sons. He has seen me get married. He has traveled throughout the country. He has become a member of another bank board. He was there when the University of Tennessee won the national championship in football. He has been inducted into the Tennessee Softball Hall of Fame.

My dad with his sons and grandsons at the Little Big Horn Battlefield

My dad with his sons and grandsons at the Little Big Horn Battlefield

Since 1991, he has overseen the sale of the business that he started. He saw his sister pass away from a stroke. He saw his in-laws, who spent a lot of time in Kingsport, both pass away.

Since 1991, my dad has seen happiness and sadness. However, the important thing is that he was there to see it. That is because of the hard work that he, my mom, the doctors and the rehab specialists put in. It is also because of the work that the people at Holston Valley Medical Center did for those first two weeks. That time was critical.

There is one more thing that my dad has seen. When he was able, my parents went back to Holston Valley to see the people who took care of him. He walked through ICU and hugged them all.

None of us will ever forget our two weeks in Kingsport, Tennessee.

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A Flaw in My System

29 Jan

Like everyone else in the world, I have numerous flaws. However, one of them flared up recently and caused consternation in our home.Flaw

Nothing frustrates me more than people who have difficulties driving. It is my opinion that someone who has a license to operate a motorized vehicle should actually know how to operate that vehicle. As I write this, examples of what I am talking about keep popping into my head. All people have to do is follow the lines and the signs, but that does not happen all of the time. For instance:

When a person pulls into a turning lane, the entirety of their car should be in the turning lane. In other words, they should not block the regular lane with the back-end of the car.

When a light turns green, a person should go. After all, that is what green means. It does not mean stare at the light for 10 seconds to make sure it is green. It does not mean finish a meal before moving.

When a speed limit is posted, it is alright to travel at that speed. I understand if people do not want to drive over the speed limit, but a limit of 55 means that is the optimal speed for that road. In other words, 35 is not optimal.

When a driver comes to a stop sign, they should stop. If there is not stop sign, then they should not stop. There is a crossroads in our neighborhood that is a two-way stop. People will invariably try to make it a four-way stop.

That is a short list, but it is a good example of things that frustrate me when I encounter them. The same thing probably happens to a lot of people, but my flaw is that I let it get to me. I fly off the handle and do something just as stupid as I think they are doing.

The other night, I was faced with one of these examples and lost control of myself for a few seconds. The people in the other car did not receive the brunt of my frustrations. All I succeeded in doing is scaring my stepdaughter. It was a dumb thing to do, and I have to work to make sure that it never happens again. I know that I cannot stop the frustration, but I can stop my reaction to it.

It is not an excuse, but this behavior comes naturally to me. When I was a kid, my dad was driving me and Larry to a football game. I was in the passenger seat, and Larry was in the back reading the newspaper. Traffic was heavy on the interstate, and a guy changed lanes. By doing that, he cut my dad off.

Immediately, my dad hit his horn. There is nothing unusual about that. The unusual part came when my dad stayed on his horn. For what seemed like miles, my dad laid on the horn until we thought it would eventually give out. It never did. In the back seat, Larry started laughing. My dad had totally lost control.

Finally, the man got over into the next lane. Obviously, he knew my dad was mad and was going to let us drive by. However, that was not my dad’s plan. He pulled beside of the guy and was going to do a little yelling and screaming at him. As he tried to roll the window down, I had my hand on the button and was keeping it up.

When my dad could not get the window to go down, he started yelling at the car. Larry was almost in the floor with the newspaper over his head. He was not embarrassed. He was dying of laughter. I was laughing because my dad could not get the window down. The man in the other car was not laughing because his wife was screaming at him. She was accomplishing what my dad could not.

Eventually, we went on, and my dad calmed down. A few minutes later, it was like nothing ever happened. That is the way I am. I get frustrated at a driver. I do something crazy. Then, I am over it. I have to learn that other people do not get over it as fast. I have to learn that other people do not find it funny like Larry and I did. It has been 30 years, and we still laugh at that story.

When I was a kid, I had a terrible temper, but I was able to push that temper back as I got older. The road rage that is one of my flaws is the last remnant of that temper. It has to be pushed back, too. The last thing I want is to scare the people I love.

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The Luck of the Night Rain

21 Sep

It rained last night. Usually, that is a great time to sleep and is even better if it is thundering. I didn’t sleep, though. I listened to the rain. Necole was sleeping next to me. That was the best part. I could hear her breathe and feel her when she shifted in her sleep.Night Rain

While lying there, I started to think. That’s one of the things I am prone to do at that time of night. In fact, that’s when I do my best thinking. I wonder how I would do teaching a class that late. My mind ran through all kinds of things, but it settled on the idea of how lucky I am.

I am lucky to have Necole as my wife and Isabella as my step-daughter. I never thought I would have a family, and, now, I have one.

I am lucky to have been raised in a good family and to have joined another one. I love them all.

I am lucky to have great friends who are fun to be around and would do anything to help me.

I am lucky to have the opportunity to travel and see things that others may never get the chance to see. I have been to all of the states, and I wish everyone could do the same thing. It’s hard to understand this country of ours if you haven’t seen it all. Every place is different.

I am lucky to have been a teacher for the past 12 years. Hearing a student say that they never liked History until my class is a great feeling. A lot of the students have gone on to be teachers, and I hope they have forgotten the times when I told them the wrong thing.

I am lucky to have grown up in Lebanon. It receives many complaints, but it is a good place to raise a family. Like other towns, it is filled with mostly good people.

I am lucky to be named after my father. As a kid, I hated having his first name. Now, I am honored to be named after someone who everyone admires so much.

I am lucky that I have not had any major health issues. Knowing people who have battled health problems, this is truly something to be thankful for.

That’s a lot of luck, and, at no point, will I ever forget how lucky I am.

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Categorically

30 Jul

We just finished walking around the neighborhood. As we did, I noticed a man through a window. He was working at his desk, and I began to wonder what he was working on. Was he writing the next great novel? Was he writing a letter? Was he blogging? At the moment, I am sitting by a window, and people are probably looking in and wondering what I am doing.

I like to think that people like what they read here. It’s a hodgepodge of stuff, but it comes right out of my head. Sometimes, It’s travel. Sometimes, it’s music. Sometimes, its stories from the past. All the time, it’s something that is stuck in my mind and needs to get out.

I am not sure what needs to get out tonight, so I will just go down the list of categories on this blog and type this first thing that fits.Scattergories

Academics – School starts back soon. That means inservice.

Agriculture – The other day, I got gas at the Farmer’s Co-Op.

Art – There is a guy named Art who works at Beauty Boutique, Necole’s store.

Biography – The last one I read wasn’t very good, It was about Ward Bond, John Ford and John Wayne. It should have been good.

Books – I just finished The Eye of God by James Rollins. It is the further adventures of Grayson Pierce.

Childhood Memories – Tonight, I mentioned that my parents had a Weeping Willow in their front yard, and I used to play under it.

Comedy – Nothing is funny, at the moment.

Community – I was named to the local Planning Commission. This afternoon was my first meeting.

Crime – Tonight, I found out that a guy I once knew tried to kidnap his wife and lock her in a closet. Hopefully, he will get what’s coming to him.

Did You Know? – I forgot about this category. It needs to be revisited.

Dining – Tonight, we had a home cooked meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese and green peas.

Dreams – Lately, my dreams have been less than memorable.

Government – Necole went to the DMV this morning. There is no reason they should be that slow.

History – I am getting my lecture voice warmed up.

Movies – We watched Batman Begins, and I realized that the guy who plays Joffrey on Game of Thrones was in it.

Music – We have a couple of concerts coming up – Don Williams and The Eagles.

Nature – There’s a great article about sugar in the latest National Geographic. Everyone should read it.

Photography – In a few days, we are getting more wedding photos made.

Rambling Ruminations – I think that is what this post is all about.

Relationships – I’m married.

Religion – I would like to write about it more, but a few things are better left unsaid.

Sports – College football is about to start, and my team, the University of Tennessee, is in the Southeastern Conference. However, you’ll never hear me chant S-E-C. I cheer for one team and hope the other ones lose every week.

Stupid Stuff – It’s an accurate description of this post.

Television – I’m waiting for Justified to crank back up.

Therapy – I used to go. I don’t anymore.

Travel – We just returned from California and will be heading to Arizona soon.

Writing – Am I the only person who doesn’t mess with those writing prompts?

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From a House to a Home

24 Jun

I think I moved into this house in 2000, but I’m not really sure. It’s probably strange that I don’t remember the exact year, and it’s probably more strange that I remember the building process vividly. My brother built the house, and I remember meeting with him. I remember checking each day to see how much work had been done. I really remember picking out the shutters.Shutters

That process sticks out to me because my girlfriend hated shutters. We had dated for a couple of years when I decided to build, and she naturally thought that it was for both of us. Maybe, I thought the same thing, but reality hit when I decided to go with the shutters. She took it as a sign that it was my house instead of our house, and, honestly, she was right. Our relationship was never the same after that, and she broke up with me several months later.

That was the way this house began and has continued to be. It has been a house. It has been my house. It has not been a home. The refrigerator is famous for its emptiness. The rest of the kitchen has been used as an office. The garbage collectors like it because they never have to stop. Heck, it was a couple of years before I had furniture. There was a bed, a chair, a television. Basically, it was stuff that came from my old apartment.

A later girlfriend said that I lived in a museum. She was able to say that because she was one of the few girlfriends to see it. Most of the people I have dated rarely came to my house because I spent a lot of time at their places. They were in Nashville, and the excuse was that there was nothing to do in my town. I may as well come to them. In reality, I wanted a separate sphere that I thought of as a sanctuary.

At times, it has been a sanctuary. Coming home to an empty house has its benefits. The solitude is refreshing after a day with dozens of students. You can do what you want without bothering anyone else. Heck, you can even walk around naked if you want.

However, those same attributes can turn dark, as well. The quiet can be too quiet. The solitude can become loneliness. There is nothing worse than walking into an empty house after a terrible day. Actually, walking into an empty house after a breakup is worse. Those people who I didn’t allow into my house eventually faded away. I wasn’t sharing my life with them as much as I was visiting their lives for a while. It didn’t take long for them to figure that out, and they eventually faded away.

This house has seen a lot. It has seen people walk through its doors who wanted to stay, but they weren’t given the opportunity. It has seen escapades that are not appropriate for a blog that people under 18 may read. It has been empty in more ways than one, and it has been filled with stuff. It has been here through good days and bad nights. It has witnessed love and hate. However, through all of this the house has never been a home.Home Sweet Home

That is about to change. In a few weeks, I am getting married, and my soon-to-be wife and her daughter are moving in. There will be no more nights of solitude. There will be no more doing what I want when I want. There will definitely be no more walking around naked. But, there will be laughter and sadness and good times and bad times. The house will be filled with something besides stuff. It will be filled with a family.

My fiance’s daughter is worried because she thinks they are moving into my home. She thinks they will be like visitors. I don’t know how to explain it to her, but this place has never been my home. I am as much of a visitor as she is. I want her to realize that this house is only now becoming a home, and we are going to make it that way together.

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3-2-1 Conflict

8 May

The few of you who have been reading this blog since its inception know that it started as a therapy project. I don’t go to therapy anymore, but this is still a good place for mental and emotional cleaning. The reasons for going to therapy were many, but there is no point boring anyone with all of those reasons. One reason is boring enough.

My therapist helped me understand that a major problem of my psyche was the avoidance of conflict. I would do anything to make sure conflict didn’t happen and messed a lot of things up as a result. It could be anything. If my friends and I were deciding on a restaurant, then I would go where they wanted to go – even if I hated the place. If there was something going on in a relationship, then I would keep it inside to not hurt her feelings. As you can see, I stayed away from conflict in minor and major situation.Conflict

All the time, I thought I was protecting the people around me. I was not arguing with them. I was not hurting their feelings. I was keeping everything calm. My therapist helped me understand that I was ripping myself apart by holding the conflict inside. I was ignoring situations that would eventually come to the surface. Instead of preventing conflict, I was putting off the inevitable and making things worse.

Here is a good example. I had been dating this lady for a while, but I was beginning to feel that it should end. Simply, it was a relationship that I didn’t want to be in anymore. I didn’t want to break up with her and hurt her, so I held on to those thoughts. Instead of breaking up with her, I started seeing someone else. Before I knew it, I was dating two people at once. Nice way to solve the issue wasn’t it?

It all blew up when they found out about each other. Instead of hurting one person a little, I hurt two people a lot. Wait, make that three people. I hurt myself, too.

That’s the problem with avoiding uncomfortable conversations, and that is what my therapist taught me. She also taught me that my voice is important and should be heard.

I hate conflict, and I hate uncomfortable conversations.

I hate telling a student that they are going to make a bad grade.

I hate hurting the feelings of the people I love.

I hate telling someone I don’t want to go to a certain restaurant.

I hate it, but I do it. I do it because it is the healthy thing to do. It may not feel good at the moment, but it will pass. Everyone will be happy again – most of the time. I do it because in real life conflict and uncomfortable situations cannot be avoided. I do it because it’s what people do, and the last time I checked I am a person. It took me a long time to understand that.

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Shock the World

19 Apr

A couple of posts ago, Dark Cargo noticed a change in terminology from one post to the next. Instead of writing about my girlfriend, I wrote about my fiance. Those of you who know me through this blog are probably thinking, “Hey, that’s great!” However, those who have known me all of my life probably sat there stunned for a second before realizing what they were hearing. In this little corner of Tennessee, I pulled a Muhammad Ali and shocked the world.

You see, I am in my mid-40’s and have never been married. In fact, I have never seriously considered getting married. I ventured from one relationship to the next and burned a lot of bridges along the way. Most people, most importantly my parents, thought I would wander from one woman to the next until there wasn’t a next. If I was being honest with myself, then I would say that I thought the same thing.

Then, Necole came into my life. Actually, I should say that Necole returned to my life.

I first met Necole in our high school years when she was on a date with my best friend. He took her to the governor’s inaugural ball, and I showed up to prove to him that I could get an invitation to the inaugural ball, too. When I walked into the gala with my date, my goal was to find him, and I found him with this really hot cheerleader. I can’t remember what happened the rest of that night, but I remember where we were standing at our introduction.

Over the next several weeks, we would run into each other in the hallways of school, but I was too dumb to ask her out. She kept hinting, and I kept missing the hints. One afternoon, I was cruising through Sonic Drive-In when she hopped in my car and said something along the lines of “we should do something sometime.” We went out some, but I was still too dumb to know what I was doing.

I went to college and learned the ways of the world. She moved away and learned some of the same things. A few years later, we reconnected but were on different paths. We were both restless and needed to find out what was going on in the world that we were just learning about.

As I said, I moved from relationship to relationship, and I took a perverse pride in not really caring. I was out to have a good time and let the wreckage fall where it may. I hurt a lot of people but discovered somewhere along the way that I hurt myself, too. I hid this by convincing myself that I was different. I didn’t need anyone because the freedom and independence was too important to me. Why would I want to be with one person for the rest of my life when I could have the world to choose from?

Necole took a different path, but it is not my story to tell. However, I will say that she has a beautiful daughter who fills both of our lives with joy.

A few years ago, I walked into my office and found a text from Necole. She wanted to see me and asked if I would like to see her. We met at a place in Nashville and talked about the years that had passed since we had last sat across a table from each other. The time passed too quickly, and it wasn’t long before we had to go. I walked Necole to the valet stand and, before she got away, I kissed her. There was no way I was going to let her drive off without doing that.

We have been together ever since, and a few weeks ago I shocked the world by proposing to her. I never thought I would love someone like I love Necole. I never thought I would get married. It seems that I shocked myself, too. The guy who tried hard not to care found someone, both Necole and her daughter, who he can’t imagine not caring about.

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