Gone To Texas

The Next Great Adventure: A True Story

Gone To Texas!

Mom, me, Neil, Cindy, Jennifer

My annual performance review at Kraft in 1984 was nothing but good news, or so Harry, the Accounting Center Manager, informed me. I graded out as the top accounting center supervisor, I received the highest percentage raise possible (3%!), and if I went back to school to get an MBA I could be eligible for a promotion in 5 or 8 years, by which time he was sure there would be some retirements to make room for me. Harry didn't really understand me. The review did nothing for my enthusiasm towards the corporate world. I wanted to learn and conquer new things. It seemed more like a prison sentence than an "attaboy."

I couldn't let myself look for another job; that wouldn't have been the practical, grown-up thing to do, especially since I thought my role was to be the career person in the family. There was no internet to search for jobs back in Texas, and though Cindy was making friends, enjoying her job, and keeping us busy socially, I knew she wanted to be closer to home. Fortunately, my friend and mentor, the man who taught me everything practical about managing people, David Johnson, called from Texas. Jerry Hancock and David were planning on opening some Grandy's franchises in South Texas, starting in Victoria, and he called to ask if I was interested in being part of the launch.

It took me about a nanosecond to decide ... we would be back in Texas, I would be working for David, doing much more tangible work than shuffling papers, and it would be an adventure. It took me a little more time to sell Cindy on the idea. She had reservations. Though we would be in Texas, it's a six hour drive from Victoria to Rowlett, and was there even a shopping mall in Victoria? Neither of us had ever heard of it. She actually agreed pretty easily and her project management skills came quickly in to play to get us moved back.

We lived with Darvis and Frances for several weeks while I completed management training. Cindy

Early Grandy's crew

took a trip or two to Victoria to find an apartment and get the lay of the land. Before we knew it we were settling in to the Villa Chateau apartments on Miori Lane, directly across the street from Victoria High School, Home of the Stingarees. We later learned that the marching band practiced pretty early in the morning, and since the stadium was across the street, too, Friday nights would generate the nearest thing to a traffic jam in Victoria around our apartment. It was a great apartment. The only thing Cindy didn't like was the squirrel that harassed her from the courtyard fence, and the avocado green counter tops and harvest gold appliances.

Once again, Cindy got a job via a temporary agency, with the idea that she could do the "temp-to-perm" thing like she did in Atlanta. It didn't quite work out that way. She was placed at the Dupont chemical plant outside of town as an Accounts Payable clerk. Dupont wouldn't hire her as a full time employee, but they did hire her as a contract worker through the temp agency. At some point the Cain Chemical Company bought out a portion of the Dupont plant. Cindy had an opportunity to leave the contract and go to work directly for Cain in 1987, which she did. Less than a year after Cindy was hired, Cain sold out to Occidental Chemicals, and Cindy began her career with Oxy.

Cindy, Kathy P. & Vickie
Dupont Santa volunteers

I was working at a restaurant so my schedule varied. David always did his best to make sure I had either Sunday or Saturday off, because those were Cindy's days off, and if I had to work those days I usually worked breakfast shift Saturday or night shift on Sunday, which meant I either came home early or left for work late. Cindy, of course, was not one to sit idly at home. She started going to Victoria Community College, taking classes to earn her real estate license and at one point taking a golf class with her buddies. She never finished the real estate classes, though she did make some great friends. Even though she learned to swing a club and play a little golf, the major outcome of that class was that I started playing golf. I would go to the driving range to watch her practice and think, "I can do that." When I couldn't, it made me determined to master that frustrating sport, which I still haven't accomplished.

The real estate education prompted Cindy to start looking for a house to buy. I was not keen on the idea. It seemed like it would be an enormous amount of debt, not to mention the effort and expense involved in maintaining a house, but Cindy was determined. I was fairly confident that she wouldn't find anything. Our credit was mediocre, we didn't really have any sort of money for a down payment, and frankly, the economy was pretty terrible at the time. Oil and gas had taken a big hit, which consequently had a big impact on the restaurant expansion plans, which were now on hold. I couldn't imagine anyone loaning us money to buy a house.

Well, of course, Cindy found a house. It was a neat little 1300 square foot house on Suzanne Lane

The house on Suzanne today
according to Google

and we got the house by assuming the mortgage. The owners couldn't afford the payments and the bank was willing to let us assume the loan. It cost us about $700 to close and we were suddenly home owners. It was a gamble, one that we worried about the following year when the interest rate went up on the loan. We wrote the bank and told them we needed to renegotiate the rate or we wouldn't be able to make the payments. They apparently already owned too many houses so they worked with us and actually lowered the rate.

Many of the Dupont employees who went to work for Cain were given or purchased equity in the company. Unfortunately, equity was only available to employees if they had transferred from Dupont or if they had worked for Cain for more than a year. It turned out that of all the Cain employees in Victoria only Cindy and one other person were not eligible to share in any of the profit from the buyout. The owners decided to give Cindy and the other person a bonus equivalent to one year's salary. The impact on our financial situation was tremendous. Aside from the mortgage we were able to get out of debt from credit cards and car loans. Without those payments we were able to actually start saving a little. This was a major turning point for us in several ways.

Cindy had always been a high performing employee. When she went to work for Oxy she began to envision a career instead of just a job. The idea that someone thought enough of her work to give a year's salary as a bonus shifted her self-perception and her future plans. She was already making more money than me, and had better benefits in terms of insurance and retirement plans. She was good at her job, she enjoyed it, and she was appreciated.

A rare ice event wrecks the exit sign

It was the 80's. The accepted wisdom of the day was that women needed to find satisfaction in a career in order to be happy, that being a wife and mother were no longer enough. Cindy actually struggled with that. She would get frustrated with me when I didn't appreciate her homemaking skills. I thought she was doing those things because she wanted to. I certainly didn't expect her to do cooking, cleaning, etc on her own. I'd been doing those things since I was a kid. My Mom certainly made it clear that housework was not her task alone. My only problem was that my homemaking efforts were rarely up to Cindy's standards.

Both of us were in uncertain territory. Cindy felt like she should be homemaker first and career person second. I felt like I should be contributing more financially and have an actual career instead of just a job, or at least a plan for a career. I worked an odd schedule and Cindy always had work and social activities going on. We basically lived separate lives throughout the work week; she was often asleep when I got home, and I was asleep when she left. She would make plans for our time off together, but rarely for just the two of us.

There were times when she seemed to be upset that I didn't demand more of her time and attention, like it would have been simpler for her if I was a husband who demanded dinner on the table at 6PM sharp, and I know there were times that I was jealous of her time at work or with friends, but we never kept score. We just focused on things in front of us, looking forward to the next adventure.

We learned to be independent partners. There were some clear lines of responsibility. Cindy always did the finances because I didn't want to and she did. I always did home maintenance, car repair and whatever she told me to do on weekends. That's not a complaint. I didn't truly mind doing what she wanted to do. I just wanted to spend time with her. The exception was church. Cindy joined a Lutheran church that her friend Vickie attended, but I wasn't willing to go that far to be with her.

There was one planned weekend activity that had long term repercussions. It was my 30th birthday and Cindy decided that it was a big enough milestone to plan a party, despite my protests. She thought the way around it would be to plan a party in conjunction with Vickie's birthday, who was turning 40 around the same time, sort of a share-the-spotlight thing. She and some friends planned a joint "70th Birthday Party" for us, because 30 + 40 = 70 or something. They rented a pavilion at Coleto Creek Reservoir and there was barbecue and a couple of kegs and a bunch of people.

I was miserable. I looked around the party and realized that every single person there was from Cindy and Vickie's friends and family. All of "my" friends were working at the restaurant. I endured endless questions about all variety of things from these people that didn't know me. Yes, I'm a restaurant manager. Yes, I have a college degree. No, it's not in restaurant management. Yes, Cindy is amazing. No, we aren't planning children anytime soon. No, I don't think Cindy will become a stay-at-home Mom someday. No, I don't belong to a church. It was absolute torture and I let Cindy know it. She never planned another birthday party for me again, and I remain grateful for that.

Katy's 60th Birthday Party

We were back in Texas and took full advantage of the proximity to family. We would go to Pampa or Rowlett for Thanksgiving and Christmas, though they were often abbreviated trips due to the demands of restaurant scheduling. We would drive up US-59 to Jefferson and "camp out" with the Calhouns for vacations at Lake O' the Pines. I only recall one trip when I drove directly to Pampa from Victoria, which was about a 10 hour drive.

Cindy's family came down fairly regularly, too. We had a birthday party for Aunt Katy in the Chateau Villa apartment, and everyone came down to help us move into the house on Suzanne Lane. My father-in-law Darvis bought a truck from the Chevy dealer in Cuero, and Steve, Rodney, Darvis and I all went fishing on the Wharf Cat out of Port Aransas in 8 foot seas (never again). My father even made it down for a visit. He never knew Cindy, only meeting her briefly before we got married. While I was working Dad was home with Cindy, who doted on him and let him tell her stories. For supper one night she made lasagna and Dad, who would regularly refuse to eat pasta of any sort, ate it without complaint. I told Cindy that was a sure sign that he liked her, and he did. A lot. He often told me "She's too purty for you, you better watch your step."

Breckenridge ski trip - very 80s

Though the birthday party was torture, we made many good friends in Victoria and at some point I no longer considered them "Cindy's friends." There was Vickie, who taught me to waltz properly, and her husband Glenn, who loved our Dalmatians, Pearl and Cosmo ... getting a dog was a pre-requisite for me agreeing to buy the house. Cindy's carpool buddies (along with Vickie) were Jeanette and Kathy, who taught Cindy it was okay to stop for beers in paper bags on the way home on Friday evenings. Jay and Kathy Page were our party buddies, everything from trips to Wurstfest in New Braunfels to all day & all night cook outs in their backyard. We vacationed with a wide range of engineers from Cain and Oxy in Breckenridge for skiing and for our first trip to Las Vegas. Connie Filley, who Cindy met via the real estate classes, and her husband George, who was the District Attorney at the time, were good friends. We went to Stingaree football games in Corpus Christi with them, and George found Cindy a snub-nose .38 Special S&W to carry when she was driving back and forth to Houston for work. I still have it.

You know they're true friends when they'll board your dogs, feed you, buy you beers, plan vacations with you, and arm you when they think it's appropriate.


So much more happened in those years. There were so many opportunities to grow and learn about each other and simply learn how to be married. We had so many positive role models for marriage. David and Barbara. Jerry and Nancy. Jim and Kim, who were our peers as a young married couple, but had a different and very "in this together" partnership model compared to our more independent one. All the couples mentioned above. Glen and Vicky. Leroy and Jeanette. Garry and Kathy. Jay and Kathy. Joe and Evelyn Laza, Vickie's parents. If Atlanta was the honeymoon, Victoria was the proving grounds where we learned to work together and become true partners, even as we learned to become the individuals we were meant to be.

At some point in the late 80's Cindy forced me to go to the dermatologist. And I mean forced because she said "I've made the appointment. Be there." It turned out that I had a mole on my chest that was malignant, most likely caused by too many summer sunburns as a kid. They biopsied the mole on Thursday and said the results would be back Monday. We spent the weekend agonizing over what a bad result might mean. On Monday I called the dermatologist, Dr. Cox, during my morning break. When the nurse said, "Oh hello Mr. Turner, let me get those results" and then returned to the call and said "Uh, the doctor will call you back shortly," I knew it was bad news.

I waited before calling Cindy, because I knew she would want to know the plan. They scheduled me to take even more tissue on Thursday that week. For two weeks we walked on eggshells, waiting for the second biopsy result, not knowing what might happen. In the end it was all fine. The cancer had not spread, but we learned what a cancer diagnosis looked like, and it served as a reality check for both of us. Nothing is promised in this life, no matter how badly you want it.

There is one other story that must be told from our time in Victoria, because it was a fork in the road where a choice was made that changed the course of our life together. It's remarkable how much clarity there is in hindsight, isn't it?

Cindy had been asked to serve on a high-profile project team to implement a new accounting related computer system. As part of the kick-off for the project she had to travel to San Francisco for a week long planning meeting with the vendor and the Oxy team. She left on Sunday and planned to fly back on Friday night. On Thursday morning she called and said she would be coming home that night and she would tell me about the trip when she got home. I thought the project had been cancelled.

It turned out that in the meeting on Thursday morning, in an Oxy only meeting, some man stood up, pointed to Cindy and said "I just want to know who she has been sleeping with to get put on this team." Cindy was the only woman on the team. There was, apparently, some concern from some wives that a woman was on the team. She was shocked. Hurt. Confused. She said nothing, packed her stuff up, went to the hotel, checked out, called me, and came home. When we finally had a chance to talk about it we had a long talk about careers and jobs and goals and our expectations for each other. I told her that I only wanted her to be happy, to do whatever she wanted and to come home to me. She said she only wanted me to let her try, and to trust her. She wanted to prove that she deserved to be on that team, which she did, for the next 30 years.

In Victoria we made the decision, though not in specific terms, that Cindy would pursue a career, and I would support and encourage her. It was an important inflection point. I had no responsibility to become the primary bread-winner and career oriented partner, though I've always worked hard and honestly. She had no duty to be the wife/homemaker, though she managed to do that to her high standards, which were above my expectations.

We moved forward, eyes open, understanding the choice we had made. I had moved us from Texas to Atlanta and back to Texas in pursuit of my nebulous career goals. I now knew that future moves would be driven by Cindy, and I was okay with that, truly. I just wanted her to be happy. She got so much satisfaction and validation from work, in ways that I could never provide, that I knew it was the right thing to do, though I did have to learn to share her with work. It was an unspoken agreement made with the best of intentions, and for the most part, it worked out well.

Oh, Atlanta!

The Next Great Adventure: A True Story

Oh, Atlanta!

We were married on a Saturday night, and spent that night in a hotel we could afford in Denton, Texas. The next morning we drove to Rowlett, loaded a small U-Haul trailer with a few pieces of furniture, and various housewares and clothes, and hitched it the back of Cindy's Buick Regal. After lunch with her family, we headed to Atlanta. The plan was to drive until we were tired of driving and check into a hotel along the way.

We couldn't go very fast towing the trailer. Before we got out of Texas I noticed a funny smell. We stopped to get gas and while checking things out I noticed the transmission fluid was low and the dipstick seemed warmer than it should be. I bought fluid, topped it off and decided it would be better to drive slower. That seemed to help, but 55 MPH was miserably slow. We took turns driving, but Cindy definitely preferred driving to riding. We had decided to postpone the honeymoon until we had the funds to actually take one, and I had to be at work on Tuesday. We ended up spending the night on the east side the Mississippi River, in Vicksburg, and with a leisurely pace rolled in to Atlanta in the late afternoon Monday.

Atlanta is in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, on the Eastern Continental Divide. Arriving from the west on I-20 there are curves and hills and trees blocking your view as you approach, which is quite different from the open spaces of North Texas. Nearing Atlanta the sky was overcast; it was looking quite grey to the east. We top a hill, round a curve and there before us in the distance is the city. We can see the tall buildings from the city center. I pointed it out and Cindy started crying. She explained that seeing the city in the distance made her realize how far away she was from the only home she had ever known.

This was my first inkling that Cindy and I were opposites. She wanted her home and family close, and I just wanted to be somewhere else, someplace of my own making and choosing.

I told the story at Cindy's memorial of her screaming and crying when I accidentally scared her with a kitchen knife. What I didn't tell was the reason behind her reaction, which she shared with me later that evening.

One time when Cindy was babysitting, I believe it was the summer before her junior year in high school, a group of men broke in to the house where she was babysitting. It was in Rockwall. She was upstairs in the master bedroom, on the phone with Ricky, and the baby was down the hall in another room, asleep in the crib. She thought she heard a noise downstairs and the next thing she knew, there was a man standing in the doorway of the bedroom. He had a knit cap on and a bushy beard. She screamed and dropped the phone. Other men came into the room. They pulled the phone out from the wall and tied her up on the bed. They left quickly, assuming that whoever was on the phone called the police.

The police eventually arrested the group responsible and Cindy, as a key witness, was asked to testify. This was very traumatic. She would see men in knit caps or with bushy beards and have a panic attack in the grocery store, at the mall, while driving. She had terrible tension headaches. This went on for months, causing her to miss a lot of school. She worked with a psychologist who taught her relaxation techniques to get the panic attacks and headaches under control. Part of the training was to go through the relaxation exercise while staring at a green dot, so I finally learned why she had a green dot sticker on her rearview mirror; it was her relaxation trigger.

She didn't like to tell the story, another difference between us, but it explained a lot.  Whenever we

moved to a new apartment or house it would take her a few weeks to get acclimated. During that time whenever we came home we would have to look in every room and closet and under every bed. She did not like to be home alone and would often delay leaving work to be sure I would be home when she arrived. She was always easily surprised and for all the time I knew her someone appearing unexpectedly in a doorway would nearly cause her to faint.

For me this was all very unexpected. Cindy was smart, strong, independent, capable. I never expected this kind of vulnerability. Seeing this side of Cindy became very important to me. I recognized a need I could fill. I knew I needed her, and I knew she would be an ideal partner for me, but I struggled with what I could do for her, and how or why she loved me. Over the next 35 years it was both the simplest and the hardest thing for me to do ... just to be there when she needed me.

We settled in and Cindy immediately started looking for a job. She had been told that she could work at Kraft Foodservice because I worked in the Retail division, but we both thought it would be good for her to do something other than Kraft. She starting doing temp work with an agency named Adia, and got placed in a 90 day assignment as an HR clerk for Ciba Vision. The now familiar pattern began to play out. She quickly became a favorite of managers for the quality and quantity of her work, and she began making friends and social plans.

Not long after she began working there, the FDA approved some sort of colored soft contact lenses that Ciba had developed. Business boomed and they hired her full time. She had the added perk of getting free non-prescription contact lenses and so choosing her eye color became part of her getting ready routine. My favorites were the green ones.

We grocery shopped carefully, carrying a calculator with us to be sure we didn't overdraw the checking account. We would go out with her friends from Ciba on Friday or Saturday night to comedy clubs and concerts when we had the money, or simply have dinner at their houses if we didn't. It wasn't long before I was tagging along on company outings, like rafting through Atlanta on the Chattahoochee, or taking in the laser light show at Stone Mountain. On weekends we would go exploring, heading up to the mountains north of Atlanta for community festivals and scenery, or finding new restaurants to try in Buckhead or downtown Atlanta.

Only a few weeks after the wedding I had a car wreck. It was my fault and, much to Cindy's surprise, I didn't have any insurance. We got a loan and took up payments on repairing the other driver's cars, and I drove the wrecked Monte Carlo for several months, getting in and out of the passenger door. In the summer we flew to Amarillo and drove back in my high school car, a 1956 Chevy named Bessie, which my brother Bill worked on to get running for us. As we were leaving Dad offered Cindy a dusty old 'Cool Cushion' from his truck, to help with vinyl seats in the summer. She declined, but I took it. About 60 miles into the trip she began to appreciate the wonders of the Cool Cushion and we stopped at an auto parts store to get her a new, clean one.

Darvis and Frances came for a visit, I think in the fall, and Frances tolerated me enough to let me

push her up a paved mountain trail. At one point we made an unplanned trip back to Dallas when Cindy's grandmother, Darvis' mother Rosa, died. Road trips to Texas typically involved leaving after work and driving all night, taking turns driving and talking to keep each other awake. One of my favorite things to do was discuss baby names. I'd swear that we would have to name our first son Rufus or some such and she would try to talk me out of it. I told her all my stories and she patiently listened, only occasionally reminding me that she'd heard that one before.

I distinctly remember being in our apartment for our first Christmas together. One of the things I learned that first year was that Christmas was soon to become a big deal - not necessarily for presents, but for all of the social, decorating and entertaining opportunities it offered. That first Christmas she gave me a list of things she would like to get as her present. I wrapped up several things that I had found for her in one big box for Christmas morning. Included in the box was her list. I bought none of those things, but instead wrote a note that said "Don't give me a list. I'm not a shopping service and besides, I might come up with something better!" She never gave me a gift list again, but always requested one from me.

The break-in story explained Cindy's ability to compartmentalize things and not carry things emotionally, which is both a strength and a weakness. It helped her to move forward in the most challenging of times, and to remain calm and confident as she did. She learned how to do that. It also prevented her from digging too deeply into anything, because doing so could make it harder to keep it in its place when necessary.

I learned a lot about and from Cindy in that first year plus in Atlanta. Looking back, living 'on our own' was one of the smarter, or perhaps luckier, things that happened. We built a healthy dependency on each other for managing a home and our lives, and we simply learned about each other directly, without the input of family and well-known friends. I became her confidant and someone she could depend on. She became my voice of reason and my proof and understanding of giving and receiving love.

In a strange way there is a lot of symmetry in how we began our marriage and how it ended. We were 'on our own' in Sugar Land, no friends or family around, for a little over a year. This past year plus has been all about moving forward in challenging times, shifting dependencies, taking time for honest discussions and most of all, continuing to learn about and try to understand each other while incorporating 35 years of shared experience.

It's how I knew not to share the cancer survival statistics when I researched triple negative breast cancer. I knew she wouldn't want to know. It's how she knew that sleeping in the recliner, sleeping separately for the first time in our married lives, would allow me some peace and practice at sleeping alone. When she wouldn't eat grilled cheese and tomato soup, I knew she was beyond miserable and her appetite was gone. When I got silent and sullen she knew when to leave me be, and when to draw me out for a talk.

In a strange way we had been preparing for this end for 35 years. I miss her terribly. I ache for her head on my shoulder, and the simplest peck of her lips. Those are gone, but I take great comfort in knowing that we loved each other and that we did our best. As imperfect as our actions might have been at times, because despite what the grief tells you no relationship is perfect, the love itself was true. What a gift. What a blessing. My prayer for you is that you experience truthful love in some way.

Not Nearly Enough

The following is what I wrote and read at Cindy's memorial service, April 7, 2018. It was not nearly enough; we always want more. It's hard to honor a life with words alone. These words are not a testament to anything but my desire to publicly honor my wife at her memorial. My hope is that our love and our life together was testimony enough.

For 15 months, since we learned the cancer metastasized, I've had a recurring nightmare. I’m supposed to be giving this speech, this actual speech, but in the dream I can't find something I need - the church, my notes, my glasses. The words. I still don’t have the words, but I do have some stories.

It was our first day in Atlanta, just two days after the wedding and we were cooking dinner. I was cutting something and turned to ask Cindy a question, knife in hand. She screamed. She dropped what she was holding, grabbed me, buried her face in my chest and sobbed "You scared me! I don't even know who you are and I've left my home to be with you!" My first thought was "Great. What have I gotten myself into?"

Later I casually mentioned "Hey, we're almost out of toilet paper." She replied "If you think I'm going to be responsible for buying toilet paper in this house you’re wrong! We're doing this together, or your doing this on your own!" My first thought was, "Yep. That's more like what I was expecting."

You may have seen toilet paper Cindy. I was lucky to be who she turned to when she was uncertain or scared.

About 10 years into our marriage we had a rough patch. She was traveling a lot with work; I was feeling neglected. To make it up to me she planned a Texas Hill Country vacation for just the two of us. I thought it would be a nice, romantic trip. Anyone who has vacationed with Cindy will know that I was mistaken. There would be planned activities. We would execute said planned activities, as scheduled, and enjoy them! And take pictures!

There was also the Cindy who re-scheduled business trips to attend a funeral with me because she knew I couldn't do it on my own. And the Cindy who dropped everything, even dates with her husband, to go shopping with teenage nieces because "Good Lord, Dexter, we can't send that child to [whatever it was] without new shoes!"

Everyone recognizes planning Cindy and giving Cindy. I hope they know it was all for love and service.

Cindy and I were the quintessential “opposites attract” couple, and she was definitely the social one in our partnership. Early on I would go to parties and such with her simply to be with her, but I typically wasn’t interested in the party. The longer we were married the easier it was for me to say no to dressing up for a Halloween party or attending some company outing, but she never stopped seeking out and planning social opportunities. She learned that cajoling me to go didn’t work well. I’d go, but be miserable company. But she just kept doing her thing … seeking, suggesting, inviting … and over time I learned to trust her. She never pushed me beyond what she thought I could handle.

This is how we ended up back at this church. Cindy made friends with the Whitson’s. That friendship led to others and over time she carefully insisted and invited and baby-stepped me all the way back to church.

Many people know decisive Cindy, but she was also compassionate and patient. I like to think my obsintance taught her patience, but it could be she was just waiting me out, knowing she’d get her way eventually.

She was the driving force behind all our house purchases. We bought the house on Celadine in 2003 but for what seemed like a year we drove neighborhoods, picked up flyers, went to open houses. This was torture for 6 year old Griffin, but he soon latched on to his role of hopping out of the car to retrieve the flyers. One day Griffin and I were running errands in Cindy's car. As some of you know, Griffin is prone to sleeping in any sort of vehicle. There was a stop sign right in front of a house for sale and sure enough, while I waited for traffic to clear, Griffin jumped up, hopped out, fetched the flyer and climbed back in. I don't think he even woke up.

Once Cindy took on a project, whether it was buying a house, partnering with me, caring for her parents or raising a son, she was tenacious. The houses became homes, the partnership grew strong, the parents were comforted, and the son became a man, who was truly her pride and joy. 

I tell these stories to give you a glimpse of the Cindy I knew, but stories are not enough. That's tough for me to admit, because I know the power of stories, stories like the Gospel. More powerful, however, are real relationships. If you had one with Cindy, you have been blessed. If you didn’t, then come talk to me, I've at least got stories to tell.

The In Between Time

The Next Great Adventure: A True Story

The In Between Time

Cindy at Fleetwood Mac - Sept 1982

The summer of 1982 was wonderfully confusing. I was making a real salary with a real company, but my responsibilities were vague and money was still tight. I had developed a new group of friends in Denton and Garland, but could feel my old Pampa friendships beginning to fray and dreaded losing them. Most importantly, I was free to spend time, openly, with Cindy, but never without knowing it was complicated.

By July we knew I was moving to Atlanta. I had flown out to interview for a supervisor opening and the promotion was approved. Cindy was separated and living at home, which meant her parents were involved and they were not happy with our relationship. I was consumed with moving and career plans and spending enough time with Cindy to build a romantic relationship. Cindy was overwhelmed with housing and money and family and what to do about Ricky. He was still very much a part of her life in small town Rowlett where everyone knew them as a couple, and divorce is never a quick, easy or painless thing. We were living in two places emotionally, the comfort of our relationship and the chaos of personal lives, and soon to be living in two places physically.

It was wonderful because we had each other and together we saw nothing but hope and potential. It was confusing because in our separate lives there was chaos, and we knew that too many things could go wrong to ruin that hope.

Towards the end of July my office buddies decided to throw a going away party for me at some club that was famous for fruity drinks and fifties music. It was a Friday night and the next day I was to fly to Amarillo to see my family before moving far, far away to Atlanta. I've told the story here before but the short of it was that I was hungover and Cindy took care of me, getting me on the plane and on time. That was the first time I asked her to marry me. She was not impressed.

I moved to Atlanta and Cindy stayed in Dallas. I spent a lot of time finding a beer I could tolerate from the convenience store across the street, and Cindy got a part time job at Tom Thumb, checking groceries, to pay for long distance phone charges and plane tickets. I wrote a lot of letters. She sent me a lot of cards. Without Cindy my social life was non-existent; I couldn't hang out with co-workers and didn't know anyone in the city. Without me Cindy had plenty of time to wonder about where things were going with me and with Ricky.

In those first few weeks apart it was obvious that Cindy was struggling. Aside from the financial and what-to-do-about-her-marriage stress, I could tell she was concerned about me, that she was unsure of how serious I was, how committed I might be. I tried to convince her to move to Atlanta, to just move in with me and let me prove how serious I was. She declined. She said she wouldn't move without a real commitment and that paralyzed me. She had no desire to move to Atlanta for some sort of test run and I had no confidence in marriage. It was something I never envisioned for myself, something that had always seemed less than ideal. I had been observing marriages for a long time, and I was unimpressed.

With letters and cards we reassurred each other of how much we missed being together. With late night phone calls we talked about the divorce and finances and love and the weather. We were absolutely miserable being apart, but we were utterly frightened about what it would take to be together permanently.

Cindy came to Atlanta Labor Day weekend. I don't know that I've ever been more excited to see someone. I'm always early to the airport, but this time I got there extra early and decided to kill time in an airport bar. I wrote two letters to her sitting at that bar, waiting for her to arrive. I met her at the gate and held her hand or hugged her close until I had to let go to carry her luggage. We drove straight to my apartment. I told her I had a surprise for her there. She read my bar letters on the way.

The apartment was woefully underfurnished, but before I left for the airport I put a blanket on the floor of the dining room, along with roses, some sort of sparkling wine on ice, and a basket with some sandwiches, cheese, crackers, chocolates. In front of all this was a handwritten note which she apparently saved because I found it just the other day ...

After reading it she looked at me and said "Your eyes are doing that sparkle thing again" and I asked her to marry me, and this time she said yes.

The wedding was planned for January and there was, of course, lots to do. Chief among them was getting the divorce finalized! We determined to do the wedding on a shoestring and pay for it ourselves since her parents had already paid for one big wedding. We spent the next few months making plans. The tone of our conversations changed. I stopped trying to sell her on what a wonderful person I was and began trying to help Cindy get past all of the practical and emotional hurdles, while convincing myself this was the right thing to do.

Is it wise to get married so soon after a divorce is final? Her parents were concerned for many reasons. My parents were unconcerned and completely unexcited. How much would we be able to see each other before the wedding since we had to pinch pennies? How much was this going to cost and where could we have it?  Cindy was concerned about bringing baggage from her first marriage into a second one. I was concerned about Ricky; they had been together for years and he was very close with the Calhouns. Money. Moving. Arranging time off from work. Was this meant to be? Could we make this work? It seemed there was no end to the questions or the doubt.

When the thing that convinces you that you are in love is the delicious ache in your heart when the other is away, and the joy and excitement when they are near, it makes you wonder what always being together will do to you. I was 23, and thought I knew everything. She was 21, and thought she had enough experience to make a good decision. We struggled in this time between adventures, this time apart, but we struggled together and it made us stronger and more confident in ourselves and our love.

From the outside looking in I'm sure there was lots of head-shaking and questioning. It had to have seemed rash to others, but there was no other way. I knew I needed her, and I think she needed me. She was adamant that she would not move forward without a real commitment from me. I don't blame her for insisting, and honestly I think more people should. I knew she had to make the decision to end her first marriage on her own. She knew I had to make the commitment to marry her on my own, with eyes wide open. It was the right thing to do. She helped me see it. I have never regretted that decision.

Cindy visited again in October and at Thanksgiving, much to the dismay of her family. We had Stouffer's frozen lasagna for Thanksgiving dinner because it's what I had and the stores were closed. I came to Texas for Christmas and Cindy flew to Amarillo to meet my family. Just a few weeks later I was back. We were married on Saturday, January 15th, 1983, in the chapel of the First Methodist Church in Denton, TX by Rev. John Mollet. On Sunday, we loaded her things in a U-Haul trailer and headed to Atlanta to for the next adventure.

One final note to close this chapter. The Calhoun family does a pretty good job of remembering that January 15th is our anniversary, but they have a truly remarkable ability to recall the events of the following day, January 16th. It was the day that Granny Pearly cooked fried chicken for us and cussed me, threatening me if I didn't bring Cindy home, back to Texas, and soon. It was also the day I stuck Cassey's head in the ceiling fan. Now that I look back, January 16th, 1983 pretty much set the tone for how awkward and tense my relationship with my in-laws would be for the next few years.

An Interlude

The Next Great Adventure: A True Story

An Interlude

The months that followed my move to Atlanta in the summer of 1982 were filled with many things - a new job, a new city, a new apartment - but mostly they were filled with missing Cindy. Then, as now, I did a lot of thinking by writing. Unlike now, writing then required a pen and paper, and a postage stamp if you wanted someone else to read it. I wrote many letters to Cindy in those months and she kept them all. I found them the other day and spent a night and a bottle of wine reading through them. They weren't exactly great literature, but they brought back all of those fresh, new love feelings. I could feel it like I was 23 again ... powerful stuff for a grieving husband.

Among the letters was one that I wrote to her much later, in March, 2000. I'm including it here even though it is out of sequence for the story I'm telling because, well, I think it's a good foreshadowing of what this relationship would ultimately become. That, and it's something I feel compelled to share ... maybe it will be helpful to someone.

Here are a few things you need to know before reading the letter, besides the fact that I am not proud of the handwriting.

I wrote this on a Sunday night at the Marriott Hotel in downtown Portland, Oregon. For six weeks my schedule was to fly in Sunday night for an early Monday start on a project at Electric Lightwave. I would then fly home late Friday, which made for very short weekends. Cindy had a knack for filling up my Saturday with things she needed or wanted me to get done. We had just started going back to church so Sunday morning was blocked out. Cindy was working full time and Griffin was in daycare. Normally the who is taking/who is picking up duties were traded off as needed, but it had all been on Cindy for several weeks. Even without the project I traveled probably 50% of the time. It was stressful on everyone, but we were pushing our way through as most everyone does.

Aside from the general situation, I remember the specifics that prompted the letter. Before I left for the airport that Sunday we had a "discussion" about needing to get organized and get some tax related finances squared away, which eventually ended in me agreeing to take a day off to help get it done. I typically booked the latest flight possible on Sunday evening, putting me in Portland about 10PM, midnight in Plano. I always called when I got to the hotel, just to let her know I'd made it safely and to say good night. This particular night the good night call picked up where the earlier "discussion" left off. I was pretty much done talking about it. Cindy obviously wasn't. I wasn't really listening to her and she knew it, prompting her to say "I don't even know why you called if you won't talk to me" and she hung up, leaving me room to rethink my choices, as she knew I would.

Finally, I often re-read things I've written to see if they hold up, to see if they are still "true," if they still have that sort of sincere/meaningful/intentional/"I really meant to say that" thing. This does, which may be why I feel the need to share it.

The Adventure Begins

The Next Great Adventure: A True Story

The Adventure Begins

Cindy and I met in June of 1981 when I went to work in the Southwest Regional Accounting Center for Kraft Foods in Garland, TX just after graduating from North Texas State University. She was an Accounts Payable clerk there. I was a shy kid and my boss, Quinn Hunter, decided that I was not interacting enough with the other employees. I was a supervisor trainee and all I wanted to do was figure out how the 'things' worked, to become an expert at 'things.' Quinn thought I needed to work on people skills and his solution was to move me to the desk behind Cindy. He was not match-making, he just sincerely thought Cindy could help me socially and besides, it was perfectly safe because Cindy was married; when I first met her she was Cindy Garza.

We became friends, and it was strictly friends. I started going out to lunch with the gang of accounting clerks ... Belinda and Gloria and Monette and Tracy and Laney and Brenda and Lola and others I can't recall by name. Lunches led to happy hours. Happy hours led to parties and concerts and soon enough the shy Texas Panhandle kid became friends with this group of suburban Dallas women. Cindy fixed me up with her friend Nancy and so it went.

In late January of 1982 the hated San Francisco 49ers, who had defeated our heroes the Dallas Cowboys in the NFC Championship game that year, were playing the Cincinnati Bengals in the Super Bowl. I was invited to a Super Bowl party at the Garza's and went with the expectation that it would be awkward. Though I had met Cindy's husband, Ricky, I knew that me being friends with Cindy was an issue for him, and this would be the first time we spent any significant time together. And, there would be alcohol. I did not want to be the source of any discord, and frankly, I was pretty sure Ricky would kick my ass or kill me if he thought I was interfering. I brought Tracy from the office to the party. It was a long, awkward night. I felt very out of place and unwelcome. We left the party before the game ended. There were the usual group of guys smoking pot outside, which didn't bother me too much, but when the cocaine came out, I started planning my exit. It was the 80's so I had some experience with cocaine and parties; none of it was good. I think Cindy was aware of the pot. I'd be surprised if she knew about the coke.

After the party, things changed. Seeing Cindy and Ricky interact in their home, I knew she wasn't happy despite putting on a good face for everyone. I also knew that any encouragement from me to make a change would be a bad thing for both of us. Cindy knew that I knew her marriage wasn't working, which led to some deep conversations on love and life and committment and responsibility. At the time, Cindy was taking night classes at Richland Jr. College. Sometimes, before or after class, we would meet up and talk. Just us. Talk was all it was, though there was an ease about our being together, despite both of us being acutely aware she was married. We learned a lot about each other - just talking about work and family and growing up and how we pictured our life unfolding. She was trying to sort out what to do with her marriage and school and work, and I was doing my best to be a good listener and to play Switzerland and, I suspect, failing badly at both.

Cindy & Dexter - Garland - 1982

Neither of us said anything about starting a relationship at the time, but later she told me she knew we were meant-to-be because my face would light up and my eyes would sparkle when I saw her. It was true. I remember that feeling, and I remember seeing her response of just melting and relaxing, completely comfortable with me, just glad to be with me. At one point I took a trip up to Weatherford, OK to hang out with my friend Eddie. I confessed to him that I was falling in love with a married woman, and struggling to not be an instigator. He advised what I knew all along, what I had been trying to convince myself of, that Cindy needed to make her own decision and that regardless of what it was, I would need to live with it. I had to trust in the meant-to-be because I could see no other way to make it work in the long run.

Eddie, Gloria & Cindy
Dallas Zoo - Summer 1982

It was Easter weekend when Cindy came by my apartment and announced that she had left Ricky. All she said was that something had happened to make her choose, and she chose to leave. She never said what it was, and she never said anything bad about Ricky. When asked by friends what happened and what went wrong she would simply say they were too young when they made their commitment to each other, and later found out they wanted different things. I accepted that explanation because I respected the difficulty of her decision, and their privacy. We never really talked about Ricky and her first marriage again. We saw him at the funeral of a mutual friend, James Lee, and that was cordial. We saw him again at her father Darvis' funeral, though that time we made a point to tell our son, Griffin, that Mom had been married before and he would likely be meeting her ex-husband. We explained that it had never seemed important to let him know, since we were married 13 years before Griffin was born and it wasn't something that was part of our lives. Like most things, Griffin was okay with it.

It was 1982. She was 20; I was 22. We knew all we thought we needed to know. We started officially dating that spring, though it was much frowned upon by Quinn, who lectured me about it in early July when I was being promoted and transferred to Atlanta, GA. He reminded me that there I would be a supervisor, not just a trainee, and it was inappropriate for management to date the staff. I told him it wouldn't be a problem. I don't think he knew how serious I was about Cindy, and that soon one of his staff would be moving to Atlanta for the next great adventure.