It was 17 years ago today that I was heading to a picnic in Greensboro, NC with the large young single adult sunday school class of the church I had been attending. I had just finished my 3rd year at Greensboro College, and had one semester left before taking off to do a Master of Divinity (and then thinking I would do a Ph.d. and teach religion somewhere - only the M.Div came to fruition, but at least I do get to work on a college campus).
The summer was just beginning, and I was staying in my college town. My romance with one young man in the class had recently fizzled, so I thought I would just be working and hanging out with whatever friends I had in town. But - the picnic. There was one guy who kept flirting with me. He was older (I thought probably 27), but really cute. He had an athletic build and wore "coaching shorts." He also had the ugliest little dog with him - something called a Boston Terrier - but she was pretty sweet.
We were playing games on a field, and this man was obviously the most athletic. During kickball, he kept kicking home runs and no one else was in the ballpark of getting him out. Have I mentioned that I always hated kickball? Don't know if it was because of getting picked towards the end of my class growing up, or because it just seemed like a really stupid thing to play. Well, at one point, I was actually running from 2nd to 3rd base and this guy (Andy) threw the ball to get me out. I ducked, the ball went wild, and I was able to get home. One of the few runs my team scored! Then the very next play - Andy was doing his usual hotdogging, and I nailed him as he was running to 3rd base. (only one to get him out all day)
We talked, found out he was a kindergarten teacher, had worked at lots of camps - and then when we were leaving, he offered me a ride in his beautiful red Mustang convertible (yes, loyal readers, the very same one that I so despererately want to sell now!).
Within a week we were talking about getting married (turned out the guy was really 33, never married, just waiting for ms. right), and then 5 and a half months later - walking down the aisle.
Sometimes it seems like 170 years, sometimes 17 weeks...