AKA Bill Smith:  My First True Love

        When I think of people who tell tall tales, I think of Bill.  He was my first love in the Sweet Valley High sense of the word.  Who would think that January 5^th, 1963 when my mom drove me to the Vallejo High basketball game with my trumpet in tow that true love and new hormonal awareness would knock on the door of her darling daughter's heart. Furthermore, it would give her food for fodder in a writing class at a senior center many years later.  But, thus it did.  The handsome boy said his name was Bill Smith and he was a cutie and Irish as Paddy’s pig.  He was already over 6 feet tall and had gorgeous pale blue laughing eyes, a big smile, and dark brown curly hair.  He sat next to me and struck up a conversation.  They say things come to you when you least expect it, and that was the way it was with Bill.  About the only B words I focused on were books and band and here was a boy, obviously interested in being my boyfriend.  Perhaps Bill should have focused on books too, because it turned out he was a great creator of fiction.  But it took me a few days to get a clue.  I just wasn't that male savvy.

        Bill called me the next day, and I heard the Mickey Mouse Club on in the background.  “Oh Bill,” I teased, “You watch the Mickey Mouse Club, huh.”.  “No,” he answered.  “That’s my little sister Susie.  She is a pain, but she always has that on after school.”  Bill talked about his family and Susie.  He said he played the drums.  He talked about the cool new car his dad had bought.  Then Bill asked me to go with him and his family to Muir Woods for the day.  I was really nervous.  It was my first real date.  It’s a good thing I found out Bill’s last name was not Smith before the date, because I would have called his mother “Mrs. Smith”.  The last name was big time Irish.  Much better than Smith, and when they drove up in front of my house to take me to the woods, there was no Susie either or new car. His parents drove an older green two tone Buick, which was perfectly fine.  Bill was an only child just like me.  I compared notes with his old girlfriend later and found out Bill had brought notes to Lillian from Susie. Of course, this was intriguing.  Turned out Bill did not play the drums either.  He had taken trumpet lessons in grade school.   Finally, Bill got the message it was o.k. to be who he was.  I was smitten, he was smitten, and that was all that mattered.  His mother loved me, my parents wanted to put him on the income tax return because he had a big appetite and ate dinner with us almost every night, and I was “his baby”.   I got his ring that had the head of a knight on it and put lots of tape around the band so it wouldn’t fall off.  All was well in the 60’s.  We’d break up then go back together.  I resented the fact it was usually around Christmas and my birthday, but that is common with high school boys, I guess.   Bill’s hormones were getting the best of him, and I had the fear of God instilled in me about premarital sex, so we’d break up. Eventually during a break-up, I met my husband-to-be and  became engaged.  The week before my wedding Bill came over to the house and told me I really didn’t want to marry this person.  It was passionate and dramatic, and a good sendoff to the altar.  Two years later in Connecticut I received a phone call from Bill.  He was at my mom’s house and wanted to call to say he was getting married the next day. He'd met a nice slim brunette and they were tying the knot.  His mom sent me a wedding picture.   There must have been a karmic connection somehow, because Bill’s children were born the same number of days and months apart as mine on the days before mine were born...his boy being a Leo and his girl being an Aquarius, just the mirror image of mine.   When I moved to California, one afternoon the phone rang.  It was Bill.  “Hi.  What are you doing,” the voice asked.  I couldn’t believe it!   My husband...later to be ex... was jealous and mean tempered and three feet from me.   He was curious as to how I had been.  I saw Bill’s mom.  She told me Bill and his wife were expecting, and going to name the baby Jennifer Lynn if it was a girl.  I was flabbergasted.  It was a boy.  Maybe Bill made up the fact that he and his wife considered naming the baby after me, and it was a tall tale too or just a nostalgic wish.  Bill showed up at my door several years later after the phone call.  He was on the way to the store for dog food and just wanted to say hi.  I was astounded to see him, but it was good to know all was going well and he was a great husband.  At least that is what he told me.  Seven years later, when I was single (fate would have it that the judge finalized my divorce and signed it on Bill's birthday) Bill showed up at the public library where I worked.  He had dropped his daughter off next door for an aerobics class.  We talked for about 20 minutes and laughed. It was cool and nice to see Bill as an old friend.  I suppose first sweethearts always have a special place in every woman's heart, and Bill certainly always will have a place in mine.  I never knew what became of Bill after that.  There would be "Bill sittings" very infrequently, but with sentiment, by my mother.  I heard through the grapevine, with some sadness, that his marriage had ended after many years.  That was sad.   I am glad I always kept my boundaries with Bill.  It makes the memories sweeter, and I am sure I have become a legend in his own creative mind.  After all, I was his baby.

Addendum:  Oct. 22, 2006:  Sometimes the story isn't quite over when you think it is...but on this day I happened on a road to a pumpkin patch with my grandchildren and daughter and passed a cemetery I never saw before.  Having an interest in old burial sites, we decided to stop by and check it out on the way home.  We were disappointed to not see any old monuments and ended up on a side road where it appeared expansion had taken place on the pristine lawns.  One monument caught my attention as it bore the last name of my first true love, Bill.  Thinking it might be his mom or a relative, I parked the car and walked over while my daughter and the grandkids went to search further for old markers on foot.  I was sad to see that this time I was the one visiting Bill.  He had died a year before on October 20th.  I'd missed the anniversary by two days.  There was an inscription on the monument signed by a woman that indicated when he made the transition from this world to the next that he was very very loved.  My heart ached for that person.  I felt a connection, perhaps from a cobwebbed corner of my heart where old feelings whisper nostalgically to the subconscious mind.  Finding Bill's resting place on a Sunday afternoon out of the clear blue sky in a cemetery I had no knowledge of strikes a curious chord.   Perhaps there will be more to the story.

You were a character Bill....that's for sure.  Thanks for all the times you carried my books at Vallejo High School.  Thanks for stepping up to the plate and being my boyfriend before I had my eye surgery to make me look better.....lots of other boys may have liked me but didn't have your courage.  Maybe you never thought about it, but I did.  You never said.  I  trust you are in the presence of love and light and know many answers to the whys and wherefores of your earthly experiences.  Peace and love to you .