Young Love (#101)

Posted on March 8, 2017 by Margaret

October 24 – 26, 1969

As Nate and I struggled to make a wise choice on the heels of the attempted break-in, our calendars told us it was time to drive to Wilmette for my second bridal shower. This was a welcome change from all the negatives we’d been talking about, and we decided to postpone our decision about where Nate would spend his nights — at least for now.

The wedding invitations had arrived but were sitting in boxes, unaddressed – and we were about a month from the wedding. Our plan was to get going on those, along with anything else Mom might want us to do.

She had written earlier, asking what kind of stamps we wanted on the invitations. In those days there was no such thing as a “love stamp,” but we did have several to choose from: the moon landing, a spray of pink flowers, a muscle car, and a cardinal. Then there was Mom’s up-and-away favorite, former President Eisenhower.

She’d written, “The P.O. puts new stamps out periodically, but personally, ‘I like Ike!’ He’s smiling because Nathan loves Margaret, and Meg loves Nate.” We liked her logic and joined her in voting for Ike.

When we arrived in Wilmette, my folks’ home was in complete disarray. The remodeling crew had torn their kitchen to the studs that very day, relocating its contents to the living room. We could barely squeeze into the house, and I wondered how Mom was holding up under this added inconvenience.

When we finally found her, she was sorting wedding music under the grand piano. Smiling broadly when she saw us, she told us how “absolutely thrilled” she was with the kitchen. “Finally!” she said. “Things are really moving now!”

Nate and I decided to take the invitations elsewhere – where we could spread out the project and leave it set up until finished. I called Aunt Agnes in the next suburb, Evanston, and asked if we could bunk with her over the weekend. She welcomed us gladly, and that first night we stayed up past 2:00 AM putting the first dent in a very long list. Aunt Agnes kept us going with coffee and ice cream, and of course we took time out to watch her favorite show, Johnny Carson.

The bridal shower on Saturday was an extravaganza with 73 guests and just about as many gifts. Their generosity literally moved us from mis- matched hand-me-downs to the lovely look of fresh-and-new. And in case I still needed a wedding gown, they modeled several I could choose from – created with flowing TP.

After the shower it was back to our invitations. I wrote addresses, Nate stuffed envelopes, and Aunt Agnes fueled the whole operation with sandwiches, doughnuts, and bottomless cups of her delicious percolated coffee.

On Sunday Dad told me he hadn’t forgotten about our need for a second car and had been keeping his eyes on the want-ads. Apparently brother Tom needed a car, too, so Dad was doing double duty. Bervin had joined in on the car project, for which we were thankful. He knew best of anyone how to analyze what was under the hood.

As we drove back to Champaign Sunday evening, our little VW was crammed with gifts – on the floor, in the back seat, on my lap, at my feet, and piled tight against the hatchback window. We were a blessed couple indeed, and I couldn’t wait to bring such bounty into our fairly empty apartment. Although we didn’t have furniture in which to put our things, it would be a joy just stacking those beautiful boxes along the wall.

As the 150 miles flew by on our drive south, both of us knew it was time to talk again about my safety in the apartment…. and where Nate would sleep, starting with that very night.

“Now then, my children, listen to me…. Listen to my instruction and be wise; do not disregard it.” (Proverbs 8:32-33)

Young Love (#100)

Posted on March 7, 2017 by Margaret

October 22 – 23, 1969 (Continued)

With a group of young men standing outside my front door and the threat of another coming in the unlocked back door, I took off running toward the back, terrified that I might meet a stranger coming in. I twisted the doorknob button, locking it tight, and slid the chain in place with trembling fingers.

Sliding to the floor, I tried to hold back frightened sobs by pressing my hand against my mouth. At the front door, the rough knocking and shouting continued. “C’mon. Let us in. Don’t you want your surprise?”

After what seemed like forever, the banging finally stopped. Had the neighbor across the hall heard? She was a single mom with a little girl and surely wouldn’t open her door. Might she have called the police? Were the young men worried about that possibility? Standing on the 3^rd floor landing, they would be trapped if somebody came up the steps. Whatever the reason, they finally left.

After a long while, I crawled to the front window on all fours and carefully peeked down at the street. Their car was gone, and the crisis had passed. I debated calling Nate, but for two reasons I didn’t. (1) With only a hallway phone far from his room, it was doubtful I’d get to him, and (2) I worried that if I did get to him and then he drove to the apartment, those ruffians might be lurking nearby and harm him.

As I calmed down that night, logic told me these boys were probably university students and had been out drinking with no premeditated plans to torment me. If I’d met them on campus during the day, they probably would have been harmless. But they’d seen me in the window and had reacted on the spur-of-the-minute.

Toward morning, all I could think of was how fortunate I’d been that they hadn’t gotten in. I was safe and unharmed, and I knew why. God had partnered with me through the whole torturous ordeal, protecting me. Though it was a sleepless night, I had much to think about.

When Nate arrived in the morning, I told him what had happened – recounting it calmly, downplaying the terror of those moments. His anger toward the boys flared, after which he folded me into his arms and apologized for not being there to keep me safe.

His frown lasted a long time as together we puzzled over what to do. If he spent nights with me from then on, what would happen to our desire to stay sexually pure? We were having a hard time as it was and knew we wouldn’t last the 5 weeks until our wedding. But if he left me alone, would those boys return? Or might something else just as bad happen?

Nate was a man bent on taking care of his woman, and I loved that about him. Admittedly, he wasn’t a fighter, but while he was with me, I felt protected.

We concluded that this scary incident had been devil-inspired, and there’s a verse in the Bible that says resisting the devil will cause him to flee. (James 4:7) So how did the Lord want us to resist? How could we make the devil flee?

We had two powerful temptations to resist – succumbing to chronic fear if Nate didn’t stay with me, and giving in to sexual desire if he did. Saying no to one surely meant embracing the other.

So there we were – caught between a rock and a hard place.

“Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial…” (James 1:12)

Young Love (#99)

Posted on March 6, 2017 by Margaret

October 22, 1969

Once the Corvette had been sold, Nate and I began the juggling act of sharing one vehicle. Although I needed it to carpool to school, my friend Judy drove every other week — freeing Nate’s VW half the time. When I had the car, he walked or ran the 2 miles to campus for his law classes. Both of us hoped a second car would come along soon.

But there was another dilemma. Since Nate was still leaving the apartment each night to sleep in his rented room, I was left without a vehicle overnight. This bothered him a immensely. On the weekends I drove him home, then returned to the apartment, which meant I had a car overnight in case of emergency but had to walk into our building alone, after midnight – which bothered Nate even more.

Then something happened that worsened everything. We had bought some curtains for the front window of our apartment, and one night very late, long after Nate had gone, I decided to hang them.

Standing on the radiator at the base of the window, I was sliding the fabric onto the curtain rod when a car full of rowdy young men pulled by in the street below. Their loud radio and boisterous voices could be heard even through my closed window.

Watching them stop directly in front of our building, I suddenly felt very vulnerable. And realizing my entire profile was visible through the window, I quickly hopped down and stepped to the side. As I did, I saw 4 guys get out of the car and head toward our building’s front door. Residential lobbies weren’t locked in those days, especially those not in big cities, and anyone could walk in and climb the stairs.

That’s when I heard their deep voices laughing and shouting…. and coming closer. They were coming up the steps.

Not knowing what to do and feeling defenseless, I quietly put the curtain and its rod on the floor and tip-toed toward the door to be sure it was locked. As I got there and put my hand on the knob, what sounded like a big fist banged hard on the door, making the whole thing vibrate.

Thankfully it was locked, but I didn’t have the courage to set the chain. They were only inches away from me outside the door, and I didn’t want them to hear fear. As I stood frozen to the floor, one of them said, “Hey! Open up in there! We have a nice surprise for you!”

I didn’t respond but was sure they heard my heart pummeling my chest. “We’re going around presenting married couples with a special gift and just want to drop yours off.”

I was shaking all over and knew they were checking to see if I had a man with me. If Nate had been there, he would have already called the police, but that didn’t occur to me. I felt that if I left my post at the door, somehow they would get in…. a foolish idea, born of panic.

As I saw them try the doorknob, a horrifying thought swept through me. We had a back door too, and maybe the group at the front was just distracting me while someone else was quietly stealing up the back. Even worse, I knew that that door was unlocked. We left it open as we came and went throughout each day, and I usually locked it just before going to bed.