The summer of 1968 was a milestone for me. While I was still admiring boys from afar, suddenly a boy began admiring me. I know what you are thinking–but no, it wasn’t my hubby! For the sake of privacy, we shall call my first boyfriend “G”.
G began by calling me on the telephone to talk. Pretty soon he was asking if he could come over to my house. G was 16 and already driving, while I was still a 13 year old–a month or so away from turning 14.
After much pleading, my parents relented and agreed to let G come over and visit. Now that I am reflecting, I wonder what in the world were they thinking! Luckily, G was quite a gentleman and behaved himself. He may not have been the most handsome guy in town, but he was sweet and he sure knew how to treat a girl!
After spending most of the summer sitting around at my house, watching tv or playing board games, my parents agreed to let me “go off” with G. I’ll never forget our first car ride “alone”. He drove me over to my maternal grandmother’s house. My parents followed us.
Believe it or not, it turned out that my paternal(not maternal) grandmother’s family and some of G‘s family had been involved in some sort of “family fued” since “way back when”. Because of this, my parents told me that I would eventually have to break up with G before my grandmother had a “hissy fit”. What a bummer! So eventually, I got up my courage and tearfully said goodbye to G, the sweetest guy that I ever dated–other than my hubby. G didn’t give up easily and continued to call me off and on for well over a year. He would be my shoulder to cry on in between boyfriends, always asking to me out again. How sweet is that? “G” finally stopped calling after I began dating my hubby-to-be.
If I’d known in the summer of ’68 what I know now, I wouldn’t have changed a thing!
school pic taken just after the summer of ’68