Location(s)

OR . . . a combination of two earlier postings!

It was 1967.  I was a mere impressionable babe of about 16, working at the local Dairy Queen, when I saw a most incredible sight:  He was tall and thin, with short curly hair and a crooked smile.  His accent was unfamiliar.  He ordered a 15-cent chocolate (actually quite extravagant at the time), and called me "ma'am."  I was mesmerized, fascinated, and a little weak in the knees.  My mystery man appeared every evening without fail, and his order was always the same.  Although I was pleasant and efficient in serving his daily treat with a curl on top, I didn't initiate any conversations (or climb through the small screened window to follow my heart - which was suddenly leading me to strange places) . . . this was the 60s, after all!  A lady didn't do those things.

From May through most of August we had our nightly rendezvous, but this strong silent guy never engaged in any conversation beyond "15-cent chocolate, ma'am."  And then one day he just never came back!  I guessed it was the usual one-sided attraction and returned to high school. 

The following spring, after a winter hiatus from my old-fashioned, unheated, ice-cream only DQ, I returned for another season of serving Dairy Queen with the curl on top!  Sometime in May, I fell in love again.  He was tall and thin, with short curly hair and a crooked smile.  The accent was the same, and so was the order.  Our reserved natures also had not changed, and we continued the weird dance of quiet attraction.

Toward the end of summer, although I had previously seen this mystery man nowhere except across the DQ window, I began to encounter him everywhere!  Strange places.  It was weird and unnerving in a feel-good kind of way.  One evening when I was not working, my mother announced that she had to work at a booth at the local agricultural fair, and I would have to go along to ride herd over four younger siblings.  This was a most unsatisfactory situation, especially since the four burst from the car never to be seen again - I knew I'd have to pay for that later! 

As I wandered around the fairgrounds grumbling to myself, the huge throng of people in front of me literally parted like the Red Sea, and a big old boat of a Chevy came cruising slowly through the crowd.  "What kind of moron drives through the crowd at the county fair?" I seethed.  As the boat drew closer, it stopped right in front of me . . . and . . . it was piloted by my mystery man!  Who eloquently uttered his first non-ice cream words to me:  "You never did tell me what your name was."  Perhaps not the height of romance, but it worked for us.  He wrote my phone number in the dust on his dashboard, and later that night we discovered that we had so much to talk about!

Turns out he was a college student from West Virginia University (which explained both the accent and his seasonal appearances) who was interning in my town as an assistant county agricultural extension agent (which explained his presence at the fair that night).  We didn't have much in common beyond our fascination with one another.  We were married 360 days later.

I'm happy to report that we now have much in common - a 38-year history that has included four homes in three Pennsyslvania counties, and five awesome children.  And it all began with Dairy Queen - which remains a favorite destination for our date nights.