I had one of two topics to write about during this week of post-Super Bowl opinions and Valentine’s Day.
One, how much I hated the Super Bowl halftime show and two, how much I love my wife.
I decided to write about how much I love my wife. If you want to know the reasons I hated the Super Bowl halftime show, read Bill O’Reilly’s column of February 6 on billoreilly.com. He offers solid reasons as to why he hated the show before it even was revealed to the world seven days later.
I echo his reasonings ten-fold.
Now the love story.
I first laid eyes on my future wife in October, 1991.
I had attended services at St. John’s Lutheran for the first time and spotted her playing the church’s organ. I thought she was pretty.
My private investigators later informed me that she was single.
So, on Christmas Eve, 1991, Miss Cynthia Jensen, wearing a red dress with small black dots, sang “Away in a Manger,” while also playing several verses of the song on her flute. Sitting behind me in a pew, Highland Park nursing home administrator Cheri Mundt whispered out loud, “What an incredible talent.” After the service, I mustered enough courage to walk up to Cynthia and tell her what a beautiful job she had done and that I looked forward to hearing her perform again. The attractive flutist smiled and thanked me for the compliment, and I left the church filled with Christmas spirit.
As 1992 unfolded, I began taking a keener interest in the attractive St. John’s organist. Apparently, other folks must have thought the two of us should date. During the after-service social time on Sunday, January 5, fellow parishioners Dan Steele and Barb Burke began quizzing me about whether there were any women in Alliance in which I had developed an interest. I told them I was interested in Cynthia, and the two-wannabe matchmakers began to vehemently encourage me to call her for a date. I promised to think about it. The next afternoon at KCOW, part-time announcer Celeste Cole (now Fairbanks), a 1979 graduate of Alliance High School, offered a second to Dan and Barb’s motion.
“Call the girl!” she chanted. Celeste was imitating Andy Taylor from a 1963 episode of The Andy Griffith Show when Andy keeps telling Aunt Bee to, “Call the man!” in reference to fixing a broken freezer. “Call the girl!” was repeated at least six times by Celeste.
So, on Monday, January 6, 1992, I called her.
Cynthia lived in a small house in Hemingford and her number was listed in the new phone book, despite the fact she had resided there for less than five months.
I dialed Cynthia’s number and she answered after two or three rings. Cynthia was very pleasant, and she recognized my voice right away. I knew I was past the first hurdle; she didn’t immediately hang up the phone. I made some small talk and then finally asked her if she wanted to go to a movie with me. Cynthia agreed, and we selected the movie Hook, which was showing at the Alliance Theater. As I hung up the phone, I noticed my right foot was shaking uncontrollably. I was either so scared or so excited my emotions caused a muscle spasm that didn’t stop for five minutes. The last time I experienced this sensation was in 1979 during the final minutes of Nebraska’s 23-20 football victory over Missouri in Columbia.
On Friday, January 10, I drove to Hemingford and picked up Cynthia. We made small talk as the two of us traveled to Alliance, mostly conversing about church. The line outside the theater consisted of 20 people, so that allowed us some more time to chat while we waited to purchase our tickets. What I noticed most about Cynthia was her pretty, blue eyes and nice smile.
The movie, which starred Robin Williams, Dustin Hoffman, and Julia Roberts, drew several children under the age of 14. I wasn’t overly impressed with the movie and thought the theater crew had the sound turned up several decibels louder than needed. After the movie, we drove back to Hemingford. Cynthia told me she had a nice time and looked forward to seeing me in church. She didn’t invite me into her house and gave no indication she wanted a goodnight kiss, which was okay with me. I wouldn’t have known what the signal was unless she planted one on my lips herself. Apparently, the attractive Hemingford music teacher wasn’t in a planting mood.
Three weeks later, Cynthia agreed to go out with me again. I wanted to spend more time with her, so I asked her if she wanted to travel to Chadron for supper and attend a Hemingford basketball game played on Friday, January 31, at Chadron State College. The Bobcats were playing in a conference tournament, and if they won, I would be announcing their championship game the following night on 106 FM, KAAQ Radio. Cynthia agreed to go, and we had supper at a Chadron Mexican restaurant, which is now the Arby’s on West Highway 20. Afterward, we attended the game. Cynthia wasn’t a big basketball fan, so she spent most of the time chatting with other Hemingford teachers. We each drank a pop on the way back to Hemingford and visited about this and that a good portion of the way home, mostly sharing information about our families.
There’s a lot more to tell. But space doesn’t permit.
Suffice to say, we dated several more times throughout 1992 which led to a marriage proposal (on my part) during Thanksgiving weekend.
A wedding followed in 1993 and children arrived in 1995 and 1996. A grandson blessed us with his presence in January, 2022.
Sharing that story fills my heart with love and softens my hatred of the 2022 Super Bowl halftime show.
A tiny bit, anyway.