12. WEDDING BELLS AND STATIONWAGONS
One afternoon in June of 1971, while still living in Oak Ridge, with Steve and John, I met this real nice girl (maybe I should say lady) named Nancy. It was a causal meeting, she was with her friend that happened to be Steve’ girlfriend. It was two months later before I got up enough courage to ask her out on a date. But she sure had made a good first impression on me.
Nancy either had just broken up with her boyfriend or maybe they were still seeing each other, but It didn’t matter to me, I was determined. I had my sights set on her and come heck or high water, I was going after what I wanted.
Well, October of this same year we were married. Just barely got married, ‘cause she didn’t show up at the church until 8:00, the ceremony was supposed to start at 6:30. Don’t know if you can imagine, but that was a long, long hour and a half. Walking around wringing my hands, and trying to keep the people from leaving. But, success was had even if it was the middle of the night. Her Dad (Bill) made up this cock and bull story about the traffic. It was the Clinton-Oak Ridge football game that night. Oh well, who cares at this point.
Our plans were to go to Myrtle Beach, so we took off. That sure was a long drive for a feller who just got married, and not to mention how late it was when we finally stopped for the night. I was so tired and stressed that when I carried her across the threshold, I was wupped, I’m talkin’ so tired I didn’t know which way was up except I had a baseball cap on.
This is not an easy thing to talk about; But I remember walking in the room and saying “WE DID WHAT?” Hey! I was scared, I mean so dog faced scared, I didn’t know whether to go to sleep, go eat or go back home by myself. You know, she really came through for me that night. We talked and talked that night, and I finally calmed down.
After coming back home to our little apartment, we began to make all these grown up decisions: Planning our future, how to save money, what we were going to do with it when we did, what we liked to eat and how to cook it. You know all those things that adults do. I was 22 and Nancy was 19, but we were gown-ups. Yeah Right!
The end of November we found out Nancy was pregnant. Glad, scared, worried, glad, scared some more, but we were noble about it and acted like we were thrilled. Really, to tell the truth, we were thrilled.
At this point we moved to Kingston. It was actually right outside of Kingston, Greasy Run Road, on a little farm that my brother Doyle had bought. We lived in the garage that was converted to a nice little one bedroom apartment.
Nancy quit her job at Miller’s department store, and I was still working at Kramer’s. We had it pretty good. I’d go to work in Oak Ridge in the morning and work in the garden or tend to the cow in the evening. A simple life, but not bad at all.
So, thinking one day about a child coming, I had this brain storm of an idea; since I was all grown up, going to be a Daddy, I better start looking, I mean acting, like an adult. You know what I’m talking about. Faking It.
So I bought a station wagon. I also bought a crib, cut my hair shorter, kept my shirt tails tucked in, quit saying ‘groovy’, listened to classical music, all the stuff the grown-ups do. I think I put the crib in the back of the small station wagon in December, when our baby wasn’t due ‘till July.
I made $1.75 per hour selling shoes, and we grew our own vegetables, butchered our own pork and beef, so we sorta done pretty well. We did good together for the most part, but we did have a few challenging moments. But...., we had fun that winter, and we were so excited.
Come July our first child was born, Andrea. WOW! Is this neat or what? I don’t think either one of us had a clue as what to do, but we knew how to love her. Love we did, but the rest we had to learn.
Always wanted a girl, figuring I could snuggle with and kiss on her a lot more than a boy, so I was happy and scared, but happy.
We stayed on that little farm for a couple of more years.
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Like I was sayin’, we were living next door, (about twenty five feet away), to my older, wiser brother Doyle and his wife Rudy.
In our spare time me and Doyle would go to this auction in Midtown about seven miles away. It was fun, and after several months we both decided to try selling our junk there, and see if we too could make a little money. This auction we were going to sell stuff at was not known to have high class junk, just the low class variety.
Our first attempt was a success, probably made $40.00 or $50.00 just selling stuff we had and didn’t need. We sold a pile of things that was left on that little farm before Doyle bought it, and we moved in. But in a couple of weeks we didn’t have anything left to take, so we started scrounging around back of store dumpsters, and useable junk that had been left on the side of the road.
One day, we had this brain storm, or maybe it was a brain fart. We thought we’d go to Oak Ridge city landfill and see what could be picked up from other people throwaways. Our little brother Scott was there on a visit so we took him with us.
At the same time, we were clearing trees and brush off the hill side behind the house, and needed old car tires to help start a fire, placing the tires under the brush and limbs that we had piled here and there.
Good idea, we both thought. So heading out, and getting to the dump about 10:30 Saturday morning, we dove in up to our elbows, first looking for the old car tires. Our priorities were right in getting the necessities first and then start in on the sellable junk.
Looking around, there must have been 125 other people there doing the same thing. But after picking up about a half dozen tires, we both looked up and just about everybody had left, and we had the whole forty acres of landfill to ourselves. Good deal, we thought, after having spotting more than a few items of high class junk.
I don’t think we were on our toes that day, because within two minutes a police officer had showed up. Came straight up to us, and I mean made a bee-line to us. That officer asked what we were doing, “Sir, we’re burning brush, and needed something to help start the fire.” I don’t know if it was because we had already gotten dirty, or maybe just ugly, or maybe he was trying to make a name for himself, but he arrested us, all three of us, right there on the spot.
Folks, I’m tellin’ ya, he took us to jail. To jail, at this age we didn’t even know what a speeding ticket was, much less jail and Scott wasn’t even old enough to drive.
Here we are sitting in the tank of Oak Ridge city jail, on the charge of scavenging. Hey, we were doing the city a favor, getting’ rid of a little trash and helping to keep the dump from filling up so fast. But, there we were, arrested as scavenger, and put on the group W bench with the mother rapers and father stabbers, taking 8X10 glossy black and white pictures, of us three hardened criminals. This was not a fun experience for any of us.
So three and a half months later we got out. Not really...., another officer let Scott and I go, Doyle had to stay, and later that afternoon we’d posted bond of $75.00, and they let Doyle out.
What a stupid law. Maybe back then there just wasn’t any laws broken, ‘cause the city law of Oak Ridge must have had a lot of time on their hands.
A year or two later I took a job at Rutherford’s car dealership, but didn’t too well with that one. I was struggling to figure out how to lie just right. A few short months were all I could last.