Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
How the Lyon Came to Lie Down With the Bear
I met my husband 33 years ago. He was 21 and a big furry police officer. I was 17 and (gasp) breaking traffic laws. In the course of that traffic stop, it was discovered that I also was a forger of legal documents (double gasp). I changed my date of birth on my driver’s license using blue ink over black print, so I could get into the bars just across the state line to drink alcohol where the legal drinking age was 18. I am able to make this public confession now because I’m pretty sure the statute of limitations is up on those crimes.
After taking my Drivers License back to his squad car and running my DL number to see if I was wanted for any other crimes, he came back to my little red 1964 Corvair and had me get into the squad car with him to discuss my colorful attempt at forgery and the potential consequences of my poor judgment. Who knew the consequences were so severe? Up to a year in jail and a $1,000.00 fine! Upon hearing that I promptly burst into tears and my sad little story came out. I was an emancipated minor (it was hard find foster homes for teenagers back then) attending high school full-time, working full-time second shift in a nursing home and recently fired from a fast food hamburger store because I wouldn’t have sex with the night manager. There was no way I could afford $1,000.00 and because I was already a ward of the State, they wouldn’t send me to jail; they would send me to a local girl’s reformatory where I was certain I would get hurt. Taking pity on me, the big furry police officer gave me a week to bring proof of a duplicate license and to bring the forged one to him at the police station where he would destroy it, or I would suffer the consequences. In spite of my confessed crimes, I was basically a good girl, so I did what I was told. When I left what I thought was my final encounter with the law, I was clear on two things; I had no good future as a document forger, and that big furry police officer had the most intriguing eyes and mouth I had ever seen.
A short time later, when I would get home from work at midnight, I would find cold bags of Whoppers and french fries in my apartment door. Cold Whoppers at midnight are yummier than you might think when you are hungry. Cold french fries, not so much. Although I was grateful to whoever had taken it upon them to anonymously feed me, I was also very curious. Bags of Burger King kept showing up in my back door for about four months before, one night, I finally caught the culprit. It was my big fuzzy bear police officer! So began our lifetime friendship. He was married with a young son and another baby on the way. He would occasionally invite me home to have dinner with his family and I would go. Somewhere between the traffic stop and dinners with his family, I fell in love. I never told him or anyone else how I felt. We were friends.
So, what’s a girl to do? Life goes on. I married, had two children, and got divorced. My fuzzy bear and I stayed friends. My criminal past was not held against me and we even worked on the same police department together for a while. I remarried, had two more children, divorced again and moved to Wisconsin. In the mean time, my fuzzy bear divorced and remarried and moved to the Ozarks. Still, I never told him how I felt about him. I would just keep checking back with him. Maybe someday….
Three years ago I checked back with him and it looked like our timing was finally right. We emailed for a while and then I finally told him of my feelings all of these years. We did the long distance thing for a while. Then in June of this year I married my fuzzy bear police officer and in July my two teenage daughters and I moved down to live in the Ozarks with him.
After taking my Drivers License back to his squad car and running my DL number to see if I was wanted for any other crimes, he came back to my little red 1964 Corvair and had me get into the squad car with him to discuss my colorful attempt at forgery and the potential consequences of my poor judgment. Who knew the consequences were so severe? Up to a year in jail and a $1,000.00 fine! Upon hearing that I promptly burst into tears and my sad little story came out. I was an emancipated minor (it was hard find foster homes for teenagers back then) attending high school full-time, working full-time second shift in a nursing home and recently fired from a fast food hamburger store because I wouldn’t have sex with the night manager. There was no way I could afford $1,000.00 and because I was already a ward of the State, they wouldn’t send me to jail; they would send me to a local girl’s reformatory where I was certain I would get hurt. Taking pity on me, the big furry police officer gave me a week to bring proof of a duplicate license and to bring the forged one to him at the police station where he would destroy it, or I would suffer the consequences. In spite of my confessed crimes, I was basically a good girl, so I did what I was told. When I left what I thought was my final encounter with the law, I was clear on two things; I had no good future as a document forger, and that big furry police officer had the most intriguing eyes and mouth I had ever seen.
A short time later, when I would get home from work at midnight, I would find cold bags of Whoppers and french fries in my apartment door. Cold Whoppers at midnight are yummier than you might think when you are hungry. Cold french fries, not so much. Although I was grateful to whoever had taken it upon them to anonymously feed me, I was also very curious. Bags of Burger King kept showing up in my back door for about four months before, one night, I finally caught the culprit. It was my big fuzzy bear police officer! So began our lifetime friendship. He was married with a young son and another baby on the way. He would occasionally invite me home to have dinner with his family and I would go. Somewhere between the traffic stop and dinners with his family, I fell in love. I never told him or anyone else how I felt. We were friends.
So, what’s a girl to do? Life goes on. I married, had two children, and got divorced. My fuzzy bear and I stayed friends. My criminal past was not held against me and we even worked on the same police department together for a while. I remarried, had two more children, divorced again and moved to Wisconsin. In the mean time, my fuzzy bear divorced and remarried and moved to the Ozarks. Still, I never told him how I felt about him. I would just keep checking back with him. Maybe someday….
Three years ago I checked back with him and it looked like our timing was finally right. We emailed for a while and then I finally told him of my feelings all of these years. We did the long distance thing for a while. Then in June of this year I married my fuzzy bear police officer and in July my two teenage daughters and I moved down to live in the Ozarks with him.
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