The summer of 1960 was filled with magic moments for both of us. Each had different plans for the next step in our education. I would have to work to pay for mine. So, I spent the summer working at the factory my father worked at. I got quite an education on the assembly line. Women of all ethnicities, coming from different rungs on the societal ladder, would sit for 8 hours a day, assembling miniscule parts. Everyone on the line smoked cigarettes as they worked. I guess that may be what got me into the habit. I knew it wouldn’t be good for me, but I succumbed to the second-hand smoke and decided to participate. I made enough money during that summer to pay for my first year of technical college.

Paul worked part-time as a gas station attendant. The cost of his education had already been budgeted by his parents, so much of his free time was spent at the family summer home on a lake. I’d join him on weekends with his family. I often tried to get up on water skis, but never did. He, on the other hand, was an expert at all water sports. He would spend those weekends as part of the crew on the large sailboats which sailed regattas. He also became a caddy at the golf course for many wealthy golfers. Throughout his life, he has been curious about everything. I’ve called my grandson a walking encyclopedia, but I often think my husband took part in writing those books.

As I was learning how to smoke and a whole different vocabulary, he was gaining confidence, good monetary tips, more knowledge about the upper class and living in a completely different world than mine. When we weren’t working, we spent time together. We’d play tennis – or should I say, he played tennis and I chased the ball. We took romantic walks along the lakeshore. We planned for our future together.

My mother became Paul’s greatest cheerleader. She was sure we’d be married and did everything in her power to make that happen. She tried to impress him with a turkey dinner, (Paul’s favorite) with all the fixings. She prepared the turkey before going to work, put it in the oven and forgot to turn on the timer. When she returned to finish the meal, the turkey was still raw. This happened again the next day. Finally, a turkey with all the fixings was presented at our dinner table. I’m not sure if she went out and bought a new one each time, or if it was the same turkey. He loved the meal and she felt vindicated. I remember a time when Paul had won a huge, fake diamond ring in a gum machine and placed it on my ring finger. My mom took me by the hand to get a better look at it in the light. Mom realized it was a fake and we all laughed about the entire incident.

In the crispness of Autumn, he would be off to Chicago, and we wouldn’t see each other again until Thanksgiving. During that interim, I was settling into a world of new thinking – away from the daily teachings of the Bible. I spent hours at the Milwaukee Public Library, trying to absorb every bit of culture I could. I’d read poetry and philosophical books as I sat in a chair with earphones playing classical music. I thought I was so sophisticated and free. There’s something about taking that step into adulthood and becoming a part of it. I was recognizing the plight of the lower classes. I felt bad about the prejudice that was building in my city. The power of the sexual revolution and the racist issues that were beginning to boil in the 60s ate away at mind. It was a time of wondering. Where was the justice in this world of mine? How could I be a link in changing any of it.

As I tried to imagine my place in this time, he was learning all about his own new world. The reality of life full of sin and darkness became his environment for a time. While living and going to school in Chicago, he began to see corruption, decline in morality, homelessness, depravity and a side of life that he had never witnessed before. Prior to this, he was shielded from experiencing any of it up until then. In his classes, he was learning all about anatomy while drawing sketches of nude models. All of this was a complete culture shock to him, but he pushed forward through it all. Both of us were entering a time of questions.

That first complete year together was filled with many memories, good and bad. When the school year ended, we were both changed. He would be leaving for his time in the military that summer. Six months of basic training at Lackland Air Force Base in Texas would keep us apart and writing letters. Our love for each other continued through those days, but I was starting to question our future. I began to question everything I had learned about God, about commitment and about love.

More to come tomorrow . . . .