One day, while reading these stories, Donna, my wife of 27 years, gently noted that none of the stories were about her.

I had to think about that one for a while...she was certainly correct, couldn't argue about that. It clearly wasn't a matter of a lack of commitment to her, shoot, 27 years alone sort of confirmed that (not to mention that they have been 27 GOOD years, as far as our relationship is concerned, and the amount of energy both of us have put into making it work!). It wasn't for a lack of "material" for memories and "stories". So, just why haven't I written any stories about Donna?

The thought that comes to mind first is that all of my stories are, for the most part, about times gone by (to borrow a phrase from Rod McKuen), and Donna, well....she's still part of "now" for me. The relationship is still in the present. If anything, it's gotten better over the years (ignoring a few pot-holes here and again, inevitable in any relationship that is more than superficial). My life with her is not something that I look back on with fond memories, it's a life that keeps me looking forward.

There might be other reasons that I'm not cognizant of, but, they probably aren't important, more likely just glitches in my personality...we'll get it de-bugged eventually!

But, let's correct this here and now....a story about Donna.....

I guess I better start at the beginning...I have a hard time when the chronology gets screwed up.

My first year at Eastern was an adventure, after two years at a community college, living at home, feeling much like I was still in high school, going to the "University" was a pretty big deal. And...you have to keep in mind that this was 1968. Hippydom was at it's peak, I was a pseudo-intellectual, psych major, world traveler (I had spent the previous summer working in Miami Beach, heck, I knew what a bagel was now, and even lox!).

I entered the world of academia with the certain knowledge that my evenings would be spent in smoky rooms, discussing Freud and Kant, drinking cheap wine while a long haired blonde sat at my feet with her head on my knee, gazing into my eyes with admiration.

The smoky room wasn't a problem, back in those days most rooms were smoky, in fact, you could even smoke in the classrooms in a lot of cases. And the cheap wine wasn't a problem either, one of my roommates was 21, and I had , at least for a while, a pretty good fake I.D.. The problem was the blonde.

Finding a girl on a college campus is a lot like surfing the web. First you find a starting point, and keep jumping off from one hyperlink to another, wandering aimlessly until you come upon something of substance. It works like this...

The only person I knew when I arrived at Eastern Michigan University was Rick...he had hooked me up with an apartment that included two additional roommates. Rick sort of served the role of "WebCrawler", I entered "people" and he found a couple of links that matched my search terms. Evidently I needed to be more specific in my search, because both of the "people" that Rick found as roommates were male. Ok..time to narrow the search..I hung around with Rick and Jeff and Jimmy for a couple of weeks, looking for another hyperlink to jump to.

Jimmy finally provided the opportunity for me. He, somehow, had found a date during those first couple of weeks. And, although Ann was not the blonde of my dreams, she certainly came closer to the search criteria than any of my roommates. So, after Jimmy had indicated that he had no plans to marry Ann, I asked her her out.

I had exactly one date with Ann. My plan was to bring her back to our apartment, and bring in as many of the desired factors as I could.....which, at that point in my career as a budding intellectual, consisted of the cheap wine.

Ann and I spent an evening drinking Ripple and listening to music. I was great at listening to music, but Ann, who didn't weigh much more than 95 pounds, was a much better wine drinker than I was. I discovered what the term "under the table" actually meant, and Ann walked home by herself.

I recovered my health in a matter of a few days, but my pride was forever wounded. It was evident that a new tactic was needed, as well as a new girl. But, I had leaped one more hyperlink into the university social setting...because Ann, although evidently not the girl I was seeking, linked to more girls.

It was a couple of weeks after that ill-fated date that I was wandering around campus (somewhere I had gotten the idea that part of my problem was exposure, so I spent a lot of time just being visible), and, outside of the "Union" saw Ann standing with a couple of other young ladies.

I have to admit, friends, that my scenario (you know, cheap wine, smoky room, blonde at my knee), specified only a couple of required qualities for "the blonde": she had to be blonde (gee, couldn't figured that out for yourself, eh?), she had to be cute, and she had to be sexy. Didn't notice intelligent in there, did you? Or compassionate, or caring, or honest.....

Maybe I just didn't want to narrow the search down to the point that the hyperlinks ran out! Perhaps I just didn't have enough sense to know what was really important. But, like the saying goes, "God watches out for small children and fools.", and, although I was no longer a small child.........

This girl standing with Ann was beautiful! Long blonde hair, a face like sunshine, and, hate to admit I noticed, or that it mattered, a great figure. Blue jeans were standard garb for college students then, and the jeans this girl was wearing made Calvin Klein look like a slacker.

I think I would have just stood there with my mouth open and let them walk away, but Ann (still gloating a bit, I think) walked over to me.

Introductions were made, and I had the sense not to make too big a fool of myself and ruin all future opportunities, and also to remember this girls name (Donna) and where she lived (Goodison Dorm). They walked away, and I walked back to my apartment.

Here's where it gets a little tricky. Back in High School I was about one step up the social ladder, just above those who were obvious sociopaths. Not that there was anything objectionable about me, it's just that I was short, REAL short, and, on top of that, pretty shy. Community College had been a little better, but, being in my home town didn't let me escape too far from the reputations of high school, or the insecurities that I carried around like excess baggage whenever I wanted to approach a member of the fairer sex.

However, going on to EMU presented me with an opportunity I intended to take advantage of. I could be anyone I wanted to be! And, I made some pretty deliberate decisions around this. I knew that I couldn't, during the 40 mile drive from Jackson to Ypsilanti, become a star football player, or even any taller, for that matter. But the university setting offered other options for a new persona. I wanted to stand out, I wanted to be noticed.

Bob Dylan, Rod McKuen, The Mama's and Papa's (well, actually just the Papa's), Phil Oches...intellectuals, poets.....mystery.....exotic...

I figured that was my best shot, and it was a long way from the short, shy, sort of nerd type I had been in High School. The best part was that, other than Rick, who was sworn to silence, no one at EMU know that I had ever been that short little kid at Parkside High School.

I went to EMU armed with a VW Bug, a peace symbol on a chain, a couple of strings of beads, a denim jacket, a box of records, and a blue turtle neck sweater. And I assumed the persona of "hippy, intellectual, poetic" guy.

However, this new person still suffered from the same insecurities. I was still shy and still convinced that no one with any significant social standing (which this girl obviously had, just based on her looks alone!) would have any interest in going out with me. But, I had nothing to lose. Having already humiliated myself in front of Ann (which, I was certain, had been communicated to ALL of her friends), and after mulling over the possibilities for an hour or so, I picked up the phone, called Goodison, and asked for Donna.

And..SHE TALKED TO ME! And even agreed to see me again!

As I've written this, I've realized that there are many, many stories that can be written about Donna, and about Donna and Bob. Those will have to wait for another evening.

But, I want to end this by noting that it only took that first phone call for me to see past the beauty and allure that first caught my attention. It only took one phone call to recognize the kindness, intelligence, humor, and caring. And those are the qualities that have kept me attracted all these years.

Next time, maybe I'll tell you about our first kiss...now THAT's a story......