I have mentioned my wife, Mary, many times in my blog. She is "the love of my life," and all those other cliches, but much, much more. We've been through a whole lot, over the years, not all of it good, but we've made it to 36 years, and that is a testimony to Mary's love and loyalty. I don't quite understand how I deserve to have such a wonderful companion, best friend, and loving wife, but I thank God for her every day.
The first time I saw Mary Christine Gardner was in Home Room, my sophomore year, in 1966. Don't get me wrong, but she really wasn't much to look at back then. She had a Page Boy haircut, and these rectangular-shaped, black plastic-framed glasses. She was, actually, fairly plain-looking, but I remember thinking "Who's that?" when she walked in. I wasn't much to look at back then, either. I had gone out with a few girls, by then, but not many. I couldn't understand the "steady" thing, at the time, I thought "Who'd want to be tied to one girl?"
At the time, I was involved in sports -- football in the Fall, wrestling in Winter, and I was planning on trying out for American Legion baseball in the Spring. I managed to keep my grades up to a "C" average, which pissed my parents off, but, under the circumstances, it was the best I could do. Wrestling, in particular, was my best sport, but this is about Mary. ADD, ADD.
I really didn't get to know Mary until the Spring of 1968, when I was asked to join a "folk group," as a guitar-player/singer. Mary was part of the original group called A Small Cyrcle of Friends, and we got to know one another fairly well. Since our dad's had both worked as correctional officers, knew each other well, and bowled in the CMF league, I'd seen her around some, but singing together gave me an opportunity to talk to her. I liked talking to her a lot.
I found out she was "Mormon," but only knew it was some strange religion like Seventh-Day Adventist, or Jehovah's Witness, or something like that. I wasn't involved in any religion, at the time, but never begrudged anyone else their beliefs. I didn't care about any of that, Mary turned out to be a "genuine nice person," who, whether it was her beliefs or just her, seemed to have her life "together". There was a certain amount of innocence, due to a fairly sheltered childhood, but she was honest, and very empathetic, too. I found myself trusting her more and more, telling her some of my deepest feelings, and my fears. I didn't realize it, but I was falling in love with Mary, and falling hard.
The Cyrcle got caught up in the usual problems; with 11 people, scheduling rehearsals became unmanageable, and things got ugly... Mary and Nina Edmonson, who had both been a part of the Cyrcle, and possessed very pleasant Alto and Soprano voices (respectively), asked me to find another guitar player, as they wanted to compete in a Stake Quartet Festival, whatever that was. A friend of mine, George Lehman, filled the bill nicely. The girls were both Mormon, George was a Catholic, and I was a recovering-Lutheran, so we called the group The Ecumenical Council in deference to the one being conducted in Rome.
We traveled to Napa, as Vacaville was a part of the Napa Stake at the time, ready to give it our best shot. We'd worked on two songs, Stick of Bamboo, and another folk-standard I'm failing to remember right now. I remember watching a number of groups, variations of boys and girls, guitars, accordions, pianos, before a group, identical in make-up to our own, two guys, two girls, two guitars, got up and performed the same two songs we had prepared. The guitar playing was much better than the rhythmic strumming George and I could manage, and any thought of winning the award pretty much went out the window. That is, until I realized that the vocals were all in unison. We had practiced these numbers in four-part harmony, and I thought we sounded pretty good. I came up with a plan.
When we were introduced, we were last, we got a smattering of applause, and we started into our first song, the one I can't remember just now, singing in unison for the first verse. I was watching the judges, and they got this "nothing new here" look on their faces, and were starting to get bored. We hit the four-part harmony hard in the second verse, and the judges attitudes changed to great interest. We finished to "thunderous" applause, the other group coming over to congratulate us even before the award was announced. We won. On the tail-end of this was my "First Date" with Mary. We went to see Moby Grape at the fairgrounds.
We did the "steady" thing, whenever we were together, which was often, we talked, she was, with the exception of our first date, always home five minutes before her curfew. The deal with Jack and Christine (Mary's folks) was that Mary would "check-in," turn the porch-light off, and we would sit in my car, in the driveway, and talk. When they figured we had been out long enough, they'd turn the light on, and Mary would be inside shortly after. It was great, because we talked. Sure, we made-out some, but mostly we talked, and I learned all about this wonderful person, Mary Gardner. It was mostly a Summer thing, because I made a stupid move in my senior year. All I did was to confide to an aleged-friend that I thought a certain "other girl" was cute.
The next thing I knew, it was all over school, I was dumping Mary for another girl. She was, rightfully so, angry with me, and refused to speak to me. The Council was still, sort of, going on, but it got too hard for me, and I quit going. I wouldn't see Mary from June of 1969 until December of 1972. An aforementioned phone call took place, during one of my darkest hours, that I now believe to be my Heavenly Father's guidance. I'll never forget the call:
"Hello."
"Uh, is Mary there?"
"Who may I say is calling?"
"Um, well, don't tell her, but this is Steve Martin."
Some fumbling with the phone, I can hear "Mary, it's for you." and some background noise.
"Hello?"
"Hi Mary, this is Steve Martin."
"Steve? You're in town? Where are you?"
"At my parents."
"When can you come over?"
"Well, I've been sick, and I need to shower, but maybe in an hour, or so."
"Can you make it in half-an-hour?"
"I guess..."
"Great, see you in fifteen minutes."
I stared at the now buzzing receiver for a moment, and decided I'd better get moving.
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