Journal Jar: Entry 1

Girls had been there. That much was perfectly clear.

Nice table arrangements and place-settings. Silverware. Real plates. Staff luncheon, and the folks that set it up went all out and it was obvious. There was even prime rib...which is always nice. I'm a big fan of meat.

There was even a little gift at the end for each of us. It was called a "Journal Jar," which is a "recipe for your life's story. Each day, select a journal slip. Copy it to the top of a fresh journal page, and to fill in your answer." We were also told to enjoy the memories.

Which is why I'm considering trashing all my old journals and closing The Diner. I've found that the memories that they contain aren't enjoyable in many cases. They're often painful. Or embarrassing. Or stupid. Or vapid. I could go on. You get the drift.

However, these nice people mentioned that the reason behind the gift was that they enjoyed reading all the pastors' blogs and hence I realize that even though it seems incredibly narcissistic to blog (and somewhat theraputic--I told someone yesterday that I think I understand why a teenager "cuts" because I think I get the same feeling when I put words on a page. I mean, things get in my brain and spin and fritter and nauseate and once they get on a page, well, it refragments the hard drive and I move on to other things) for some reason others seem to want to read the musings of our staff.

Of course, others seem to want to slow down and watch traffic mishaps, too. And 50 million Elvis fans can be wrong. But in this case, I don't think it's voyeurism at play here...so, I'll pull one out and paste it to the top of a new Diner page and roll with it:

Tell a courtship story about your parents and how they met.

My parents "how they met" story isn't all that interesting. They went to high school together in a small town in Alabama. Bessemer. Bo Jackson is from there. He played basketball and she was a cheerleader. They were both the youngest in their families, she was from the "good side" of the tracks with a dad who worked in management for U.S. Steel. His family was of more modest means--from Muscoda Hill. I'm not sure it could be more uninteresting.

What is actually more interesting is their engagement story...to the degree I can recall it, anyway. The main facts will be there.

See, he went to Auburn University...ostensibly to play basketball, but that petered out his freshman year (he later dominated the intramural leagues, or so the legend goes). She was a Bama Belle at the Dark Side (The University of Alabama) and involved in a sorority.

He found out she had a date with some other guy, and drove to her college (some 2.5 hours these days...I have no idea how long it would've taken in 1963) and got to her not long after the date ended. His first words to her: "You either marry me tonight or we'll never see each other again."

Her response: "Okay. But we're going to have to tell my dad first."

This involved about a 45-minute drive to tell her dad. He said that would be okay, but it was late, and maybe they could just sleep on it. Driving to Mississippi (where you could get married without a waiting period at the time) the next day would ensure that a justice of the peace would be in the office. Wise man, my grandfather. Instead of blowing up and lecturing them and all that jazz, he just calmly handled the situation.

The next morning over a big breakfast he casually mentioned that if they were going to do this, why not just call the church, set a date and do it right? They seemed agreeable and got married in November of 1963. I've seen the pictures and some old home movies of it. They might not've done it "right," but they did it pretty nicely.

The weekend after JFK was killed in Dallas.

Which is why we were never allowed to discuss that little piece of American history in my mom's presence...but that's another story.