I tended to be a bit ‘energetic’ at the time, as evidenced by my tendency to melt multi-colored crayons on the steam radiator during the winter months. I must have had a fascination for color since I was also prone to dip the blonde pigtails of the little girl in front of me into my ink well. (Yes, we used refillable pens, and a bottle of ink fit securely into a hole in the top righthand side of my desk).
The little lassie once walked home with me; a distance of perhaps a mile. It was my 10th birthday, and we did the cake and ice cream thing, and played “Pin the Tail on the Donkey.” As an adult, she admitted to having peeked through a slit in the blindfold. Needless to say, she won.
I recall one interaction, in particular, during that pre-pubescent season of our lives.
On such and such a day, (and for whatever reason) the little girl announced that women were responsible for the creation of babies.
Not to be outdone, I immediately added to her knowledge of “the birds and the bees.”
“Yes, but it also requires the presence of a male.”
Well, to be sure these might not have been my exact words, but at least this was the implication. I cannot say from whence I procured this information.
The little fella and the little lass went on to attend junior high and high school in their previously-alluded to hometown. And while they passed one another in the “halls of ivy,” they rarely spoke, and were, at the time, almost exclusively assigned to different teachers and different classrooms.
Pt. 2
Almost a decade elapsed from the “wee beginnings” of our relationship; if it could be, at that time, referred to as a relationship.
It was only after we graduated from our alma mater, the first school in the county, “Summerlin Institute,” that we met again, having enrolled at the local community college, and we began to date.
Upon reflection, it is difficult to characterize how serious we were at the time. I stayed up late with her on Saturday nights, we watched “Shock Theater” and ate homemade pizza. In the course of, perhaps, a year we exchanged all of one kiss. I still cannot account for having deprived myself of countless opportunities to enjoy what has been referred to as “the taste of honey.”
We, ultimately, went our own ways, married other individuals, and had children.
United Parcel was a crucial variable during my young adulthood. I once delivered a package to a non-descript house on San Heath Road. At that time, signatures were required. Knocking on the door, I was surprised when a very familiar “lady of the house” greeted me, and invited me in for tea. Assuring that another adult, (though not her husband) was in the house, I gladly accepted the invitation, and gulped down several glasses of the refreshing liquid.
And then ironies of all ironies, in the course of perhaps a year, we met again. Delivering a package to a local savings and loan, I was once again in her presence. Though Jean failed to admit it at that moment, she was engaged in a divorce. However, as little anxious as I was to withhold vital information, I made her aware that I was, at the time, walking the same pathway, (as I later understood that she was herself walking).
Whereas, our separate journeys had diverged for a season, before much more time elapsed, they merged. Dear readers, we were married. (And humorously enough, I often threw open the same door upon which I had, as a delivery man, once knocked; when my wife’s ex-husband knocked to procure his children).
Over three and a half decades have come and gone since we said, “I do.” And curiously enough, having known one another a full sixty years, Jean and I have discovered a connection which ‘til now fell under the proverbial radar.
Sitting at the dining room table one day, and while consulting some genealogical records, my wife asked whether I was familiar with a certain couple who had lived during the American Revolution. I was. And not unlike her ancient juvenile announcement, (to which I have previously alluded) my wife made me aware of that, ‘til now, unknown connection between us.
Pt. 3
I was listening to a song on the radio today. Well, not just any song. And definitely not just any musician.
I mean, who can forget the incomparable Elvis Presley?
And the song?
Well, to back up a wee bit.
Okay, more than a wee bit.
Well, to be sure it was rather quick and all that, but we’d known one another a couple of decades by that time, I’d been the first to enlighten her on “The Birds & the Bees,” she’d once joined me on my walk home from school, and played “Pen the Tail on the Donkey” at my 10th birthday party, we’d interacted throughout the course of primary and secondary schools, and we’d dated after graduation.
Speaking of music, (re. just about where I began this story) during our wedding ceremony I’d sang a solo to my new bride.
“So many nights, I'd sit by my window,
Waiting for someone to sing me his song.
So many dreams, I kept deep inside me,
Alone in the dark, but now you've come along.
And you light up my life,
You give me hope, to carry on.
You light up my days
And fill my nights with song.
Rollin' at sea, adrift on the waters
Could it be finally, I'm turning for home
Finally a chance to say, ‘Hey, I Love You’
Never again to be all alone.
And you light up my life,
You give me hope, to carry on.
You light up my days
And fill my nights with song.
You, You light up my life
You give me hope to carry on
You light up my day's
And fill my life with song
It can't be wrong when it feels so right
'cause you, you light up my life.”
It became OUR song.
Fast forward three decades.
I was watching some nature show or travelogue on television, while Jean sat in the living room reading, or researching something to which I was not, at the time, privy.
Suddenly, she spoke,
“Royce, aren’t you related to the Dowling’s?”
To which I responded,
“Well, yes. My great grandmother was a Dowling.”
To which Jean queried,
“Are you related to Jabez and Rebecca Dowling?”
To which I again responded,
“Yes, they were my 4x great grandparents.”
Her next words caught me off guard,
“Uh. …They were mine too!”
“And when the dust settled” we discovered we were 5th cousins.
(Had been all the time).
And that song I alluded to earlier?
(Elvis’ words. Not mine)
Well I've got a gal, she's as cute as she can be
She's a distant cousin but she's not too distant with me
We'll kiss all night
I'll squeeze her tight
But we're kissin' cousins 'n that's what makes it all right
All right, all right, all right
Oh I've got a girl and she taught me how to live
She can give a lot and she's got a lot to give
We'll kiss all night
I'll squeeze her tight
But we're kissin' cousins 'n that's what makes it all right
All right, all right, all right
Yes we're all cousins, that's what I believe
Because we're children of Adam and Eve
I got a girl and she wants a lot of love
That's the kind of trouble I need plenty of
We'll kiss all night
I'll squeeze her tight
But we're kissin' cousins 'n that'll make it all right
All right, all right, all right
We'll be kissin' cousins that'll make it all right
All right, all right, all right
Yes we're all cousins, that's what I believe
Because we're children of Adam and Eve
I got a girl and she wants a lot of love
That's the kind of trouble I need plenty of
We'll kiss all night
I'll squeeze her tight
But we'll be kissin' cousins 'n that'll make it all right
All right, all right, all right
We'll be kissin' cousins that'll make it all right
All right, all right, all right
We'll be kissin' cousins that's what makes it all right
All right, all right, all right
Given what it took my wife and I almost seven decades, (including thirty years of marriage) to discover, well, I think,
… It’s OUR new song.
By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 55. Copyright pending
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If you would like to see the titles and access hundreds of my blogs from 2015 and 2016, do the following:
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