Happy Valentine's Day!

After another horrific mass shooting, I could talk about guns or politics. But talking seemingly goes nowhere, and I'm tired of feeling as if I have no say in the politics of guns.

So, instead, I'll talk about love. (Talk about feeling powerless!)

When I first met my husband, I had come off of two long relationships, one lasting 3 1/2 years and he other lasting more than 4. I had spent the summer on my own. I was 27 and decided I needed to find a different way forward. 

So enter Steve.

I had been living in Columbus and driving to Springfield to study court reporting at Clark Tent. It was an hour drive over and another hour back. Since the commute was ridiculous, and I really had nothing holding me in Columbus, I decided I needed to look for a place to live in Springfield.

I answered an ad in the paper. (Can you remember when we actually did this? Circled ads for apartments, for jobs?) I met the potential landlord in Springfield, and he took me around to three of the ugliest dumps I had ever seen. Finally, he gave me a way out: he said that his friends owned a house, and he thought they were looking for a tenant. He took me over to introduce me.

Basil answered the door. Good-looking, and the foyer behind him looked interesting with lovely wood paneling. His brother came along behind him. But then Steve appeared, and one of those thought bubbles popped up in my head: "I'm taking this apartment no matter what."

Fortunately, the apartment fit the bill, and I didn't have to live in squalor.

I had very little furniture as I sold it all in a garage sale--including a stove that I "sold" without payment, only to pick up a nonexistent check the following week. (I learned my lesson: in the future, cash only garage sales!) So, anyway, it only took a couple of trips with my loaded station wagon to move in. 

Steve stove his thumb when he helped me unload it. That didn't deter him. The place was pretty dirty. That didn't deter me. I simply asked the guys to help me clean. Not only did they do that, but they gave me the first week free. 

Money talks, and from that moment on, Steve and I were inseparable. I remember the breathlessness, the excitement, the laughter, the endless talking of those times.

Three years later, my landlord and I got married. And 42 years later, he's still my Valentine.