By far the most
important outcome of my college education had nothing to do with academics or
career options. It had everything to do with my meeting, courting, loving and becoming engaged
to Jane Ann Scheimann.
I was hardly a big
“ladies man” in either high school or college years. In high school I think I
had a total of three formal dates and they led to no special relationships. In
my freshman year at college I dated some but nothing special clicked. In my
sophomore year at college I did fall for a young woman, but she jilted me. Then
a colleague suggested I ask for a date with Jane Scheimann, a woman I had not
previously noticed. Not noticing her was my bad judgment. Our first dates were
very simple. We’d attend a basketball game together, then maybe go to Petersons
Ice Cream Parlor for a sundae.
Dating during my college
years presented some challenges: I had no money. Cars were forbidden. “Girls” had to be back in their dorms early, 10:00
p.m.. most nights. Public displays of affection were quickly admonished by the
Dean of Women.
But we managed very
well. Some of our best dates involved taking the Chicago el to go the Loop in
downtown Chicago. Of course we walked the two miles each way to and from the el
station. If we could save a few bucks we would buy discounted tickets to the
Goodman Theater, which staged very good plays. Or we would just walk around the
Loop, find our way to Lake Michigan and then hold hands, madly in love, staring
at the Buckingham Fountain. “Eating out” would be very simple until we had been
together for over a year and Jane’s father came to town and took us to
Berghoff’s in the Loop for a fancy dinner that included not only great food but
also wonderful, romantic violin music
Intimacy
options were limited. But love finds a way. Our first kiss was behind the
college gym. The Catholic Monastery not far away had massive grounds with
secluded trees perfect for smooching. Old-fashioned vows of chastity were
self-imposed until our wedding night.
In our senior year we
had a date that could have turned out to be very embarrassing. Cousin
Blondie Doering’s mother was visiting. She arrived in her Buick. After all
of us going out for ice cream we stopped the car in front of the dorm, but
Blondie who had been driving said, “Here, you to take the car for the rest of
the evening.” I slide behind the wheel of the car with the engine running. By11:00 we
were in the secluded parking lot of a near-by Forest Preserve. A policeman
arrived and informed us that the park was closing and we had to leave. I
attempted to start the car, but simply could not find the starter. Sweating
profusely, I looked everywhere and was still fruitlessly searching when the
officer returned. “I warned you two. Now get going or I will arrest you!” I was
in a car in Illinois with Texas license plates. I had no ownership papers
and I was unaware of where the starter was. In my panic I stomped my feet in
every direction. Somewhere I hit a starter button (under the clutch?). The car
started! The officer gave us one more incredulous look and sent us on our
way back to the college dorm.
And we have been hitting
starter buttons and heading on our way together ever since.
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