February 28, 1970
As the end of February approached, we couldn’t believe we’d already come to our 3rd month anniversary. But 1970 wasn’t a Leap Year, so the calendar hopped right over our number: 29. But that didn’t stop us from celebrating.
Our friends Cathy and John, married less than a month, invited us for dinner, and the 4 of us shared good conversation and good food. Actually there were 5 of us, if pets count.
Cathy loved cats, and her black and white Jeanette had been grandfather-ed into their new marriage and our evening. Baby kitties were due in a few weeks, and I begged Cathy to let me come and observe the births. Having never seen anything being born, it was a big deal to me, so she agreed.
Nate wasn’t a cat person, though, and cautioned me about falling in love with the any of the newborn kittens. “Remember,” he said, “we’ve already talked about getting a puppy.” I hoped I could resist.
Cathy was a wonderful cook. She loved trying new recipes and was much better at it than I was, so each time we shared a meal, she taught me something new. Watching her work was like watching a cooking show on TV. And unlike working in my tiny “kitchenette,” she made meals in a giant kitchen with large appliances and lots of counter space.
That’s because she and John were renting the main floor of a small two-story house where a Formica-topped table and 6 chairs fit easily into the kitchen.
As Cathy and I got the meal ready, John and Nate talked about law school and various connected struggles. Nate was uncharacteristically quiet during dinner, so when we got home much later, I asked him about it.
“Two things were bothering me,” he said. “The first was that they let that cat jump up on the table while we were eating.”
“I know,” I said. “But at least they took her down right away. But what’s the second thing?”
“John and I were talking about what our dream jobs would be once we were out of law school, and all of a sudden he made a complete turnaround and said he was thinking about dropping out.”
“Of law school?”
“Yes. He said his real dream job was to be a writer.”
“Oh wow,” I said. “Would he really drop out now? I mean, so close to the end?”
“I don’t know. I hope not. He’s worked hard. But he sounded serious.”
We were members of a very mobile generation, and among our friends, change was a constant. I was thankful that Nate was someone who thought it was important to finish what he started. And regardless of what his friend John would do, I knew Nate would get his law degree — no matter how hard it got or how long it took.
“Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men.” (Colossians 3:23)
