Newlywed Love (#25)

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January 26, 1970

BlizzardAfter Dad and I purchased the black Mustang, I couldn’t wait to drive it back to Champaign to show Nate our classy new wheels. Heavy snow made the 156 miles time-intensive and nerve-racking. But there was no way to contact Nate as I traveled along, so I just kept going, one mile at a time. Knowing he was waiting for me made it all worth it.

As I pulled up in front of our apartment building, Nate must have been anxiously looking out the window, because he came running down the steps and outside to greet me. He didn’t care nearly as much about the car as he did about me, worried for my welfare in the storm. It was gratifying to watch relief wash over him as he put his arms around me.

“I was so upset,” he said, “that something might have happened to you!” Covering my face and neck with kisses he whispered, “I could never live without you.”

I still didn’t understand why he loved me so much, but at that moment I didn’t need a reason. I accepted his loving care and was sure I could never feel more cherished than I did right then.

Snowy MustangOnce we stopped hugging in the middle of the street, he stood back to admire the Mustang – and was pleased. We both climbed in, and he pulled it around to the back alley where there was space to park. “You and your dad did well,” he said.

Upstairs, we made some coffee and shared the details of our weekend apart. He had some interesting tales from his first shifts at H & R Block, and I gave him the details of how Dad and I found the car. “If anything goes wrong during the first month,” I said, “we can bring it back, and they’ll fix it.”

Coffee mug.Nate made a fire, and the two of us sat on a blanket in front of it for a long time, sipping coffee and feeling thankful to be “in touch” again. We agreed there was nothing like a separation to make us appreciate being together. I told him how glad I’d been as I struggled through the snow to know it was him waiting for me at the other end. And he told me how thankful he was that he was the one I was eager to come home to.

It was a golden moment for a newlywed couple closing in on their 2nd month anniversary. All was right with the world.

“I am content just to have you safely back again…” (2 Samuel 19:30)

Newlywed Love (#24)

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January 24-25, 1970

I had to hand it to Dad. Although he was born in 1899 and was two whole generations older than his children, he made every effort to understand them.

DadDad and I had a rocky relation- ship during my dating years, mostly about curfews and my choice of suitors. (It’s a wonder he didn’t kick me out of the house.) But beneath all that friction, I loved my father deeply and knew beyond all doubt he loved me, too. If I had a problem, I went to him first. Mom was always busy packing 48 hours of activity into 24, so slowing her down long enough for a serious talk wasn’t easy.

 

Dad, however, seemed to have time. If I presented a problem and asked his opinion, he didn’t shoot from the hip but gave careful thought to his answer. Even during the years when I was his problem child, he never brought up past skirmishes or held them against me.

And Dad never made sweeping judgments or labeled me – as “an irresponsible person” or “someone unable to make good decisions,” even when those things were true. And he never once pointed out the difficulty I was causing him. No matter what happened between us, he faithfully hoped for the best about me.

When Nate and I needed a second car (and need was the operative word), he wholeheartedly volunteered to help…. not just with the shopping but with finances, too.

A loving fatherHe believed in the value of education and was proud of his new son-in-law for pursuing a law degree, despite Nate’s temporary inability to provide financially for his wife. And Dad saw that facilitating a second car would be both an encouragement and a help.

After my Friday evaluation day at McKinley School, I packed a small bag, and Nate took me to the train station. Not satisfied with just waving goodbye, he came on the train with me, making sure I was seated in a safe place and then lifting my bag to the high rack. It was hard for both of us to say goodbye, but the delicious kisses helped.

The Illinois Central took me from Champaign to Chicago, and the subway from the Loop to the city’s northern border. From there I took the “L” train to Wilmette, where Dad was waiting at the end of the line. We walked into the house around 11:00 PM and found Mom happily preparing root beer floats to go with her cheerful welcome.

While enjoying our treat, Dad and I circled several used car ads in the Yellow Pages and mapped out a route for the next day. And when my head hit the pillow, my thoughts were of convertibles and four-on-the-floor.

The following morning Dad and I set off in a blizzard with high hopes. And sure enough, after slogging through heavy slush and brushing snow off scores of cars to see them better, we chose one:

Mustang.An all-black 1965 Mustang with red leather interior! (example, right)

 

 

It was 5 years old but had low miles, and both Dad and I were pleased. I knew Nate would like its classy good looks, and my driving buddies would be happy not to have any more carpool emergencies — like when it was my turn to drive but Nate needed his car.

I couldn’t wait to show my husband! It wasn’t a convertible like my first two cars, but it definitely had some “cool.”

“Seek [the Lord’s] will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take.” (Proverbs 3:6)

Newlywed Love (#23)

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January 23, 1970

Nate and I were both energized over the prospect of getting the second car we needed, and I looked forward to seeing my folks. Talking at length about what I should look for when Dad and I went shopping, we agreed it should be something economical but with a little “cool”…. if possible.

Before that exciting weekend, however, I had to meet with Principal Scarce about my teacher evaluation. The day he had visited my classroom, the children had been full of zip, talking over each other and refusing to act in orderly ways. I watched him write things down and wondered if those were marks against me.

Pencil

There had been a skirmish in the cloakroom that day, and Mr. Scarce had volunteered to settle it. By “settle it” he meant bring the guilty parties to me. In 10 seconds he appeared with a firm grip on the shoulders of two boys. Waiting for me to dish out the discipline, he frowned when I told the boys we would talk about it after the principal’s visit.

As Mr. Scarce sat in the back of the room, I saw my students (and myself) through different eyes – highly critical ones. Why was I so loosey-goosey? Why wasn’t I a better disciplinarian? I beat myself up for not having taught them to take turns better and to sit quietly when I was talking. And why hadn’t I made a seating chart rather than letting the kids sit anywhere?

But his classroom visit was a done deal now.

Evaluation (front).As I arrived at his office, he told me he’d judged me on 20 different points and then summarized it with a numerical grade, 1-5 — 1 being superior, 5 being poor. I decided the best approach during the conference would be for me to say as little as possible.

We sat down with his grading sheet, and I was relieved to see he’d circled quite a few number 1’s. I did get a 3, though, indicating I wasn’t “punctual and regular in the performance of duty.” That may have been because Linda, Judy, and I often came racing into school at the last minute, thanks to our long commute and unpredictable snowstorms.

He also thought I could use tests and test results better and become more familiar with my students through their cumulative records. I didn’t think first graders had had much time to accumulate records, but I nodded and said nothing. As for a seating chart, I came out ahead on that one. He left the line blank.

Evaluation (back)He also said I wasn’t the greatest at cooperating with attempts to adjust curriculum through experimentation. What he didn’t know was that every day was an experiment. My students were lucky to be learning anything from such an inexperienced teacher. Tempted to make that joke, I bit my lip and stayed quiet.

When Mr. Scarce flipped over the evaluation page, he read me what he’d written: “Mrs. Nyman is doing a fine job in her assignment. Pupil growth is evident. She maintains a classroom that is an exciting place to be. Her pupils are eager to learn and they are progressing well.”

And then he pointed to his summary grade. “I gave you a 1,” he said. I could have hugged him.

It was a pleasure to sign the form, and I was grateful.

“…. in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” (Galatians 6:9)