We are empty-nesters who, along with our Sheltie, Annie, two BIG cats, Angus and Argyle, and our Amazon Parrot Pele, live in a 36′ fifth wheel and travel around the US visiting our grandchildren. Previously, we lived on beautiful Bainbridge Island, Washington, and before that on Point Loma in beautiful, but very different, San Diego, California. We have been married since May 25, 2003. More history of that below. We recently purchased a small house in Fort Collins, Colorado, and plan to move there in early December. Diesel prices have forced us to change our lifestyle, at least for the next year or more. We hope you enjoy reading about our travel adventures.
Och, ’tis such a long story. And short. You’ll know what that means after you’ve read it. Yeah, that’s Bill on the left, his unofficial high school class picture taken when he was somewhere between sixteen and seventeen years old. He was a surfer dude living in the semi-respectable surf-slum of Ocean Beach, California, on the western shores of San Diego. Grew up barefoot most of the time, even in the winter. A little trouble with the law before he was ten. As a teenager, he was wild with the girls. You know the type: afraid to get too close but always finding oneself there and too stupid (read, naive) to handle the inevitable breakup any other way than badly. We mention this only because it sets the stage a little for perhaps the most important event of Bill’s young life: the day he first met Jeanie Graham.
This is what Jeanie looked like back in the day. Long-legged, blonde, gorgeous. She and Bill sort of bumped into each other at a loosely religious social function that was popular back in the late ‘sixties called Campus Life. Bill wasn’t particularly religious; all he knew was, Campus Life was a great place to meet a lot of really hot high school girls. Like Jeanie. They hit it off right away, and after the meeting was over, they sat together in the back seat of someone’s Ford Mustang, Jeanie on Bill’s lap, and went to the local Baskin Robbins Ice Cream parlor. By the time they dropped Jeanie off at her house, Bill had a brief kiss from her (!) and her phone number.
Alas, their time together was brief, by even Bill’s own standards of abbreviation. Jeanie, it turns out, was a good girl. A little too good. Bill had grown accustomed to a lot of drama in his love-life, which is to say, if there wasn’t a lot of pain associated with a girl, there must be something wrong. What was wrong with Jeanie? She was sweet, loved her mother and father, had a bevy of solid friends, had her head screwed on tight and right. Bill had nothing to complain about, except for there being nothing to complain about. Jeanie was more than gracious about Bill fading quickly out of her life, the way nice, well-adjusted people usually are.
They went their separate ways shortly after school began in the fall of 1969. Bill graduated high school the following spring, and immediately joined the Air Force and moved away. He carried a photo (the same one you see here) of Jeanie in his wallet, but as far as he was concerned, he had no reason to believe he would ever see Jeanie again.
Fast forward thirty-one years. Bill has long since left the military, and he’s living on a small island in the middle of the Puget Sound (just west of Seattle) called Bainbridge Island. It’s late at night. He’s surfing through Classmates.com on the internet, perusing the latest listings of who’s registered from his class at good ol’ Point Loma High. Ah, the memories! On a whim, he decides to check out the two classes junior to his–1971, and 1972. Imagine his surprise when he scrolls down the list of alumni from the class of 1972 and discovers a name he hasn’t even thought about for over thirty years–yep, you guessed it: Jeanie Graham!