That's what I heard when I began telling people that I was in love and planned to marry the woman I'd only known a few months.
In May of 1992 I had a plan: live with my folks, find a job, save some cash, and move to California. It started out that way. I found work at a store called Nature's Bin in Lakewood, Ohio. It was a storefront that sold fresh produce and was a non-profit training adults with disabilities how to perform in a workplace. It was only supposed to be a summer job. Three months of saving up and then I was leaving for Los Angeles to pursue the dream. Hollywood. Writing. Directing. Stardom. I had no interest in getting to know someone and opening up myself to another human being; leaving them. It was all working just fine until the end of July.
That smile and those bright blue eyes. A kindness and joyful spirit that was so contagious I wanted to be in every room she was in; that kind of feeling where you make up a reason to be around someone just to be in their presence. That was Julie. She was one of the fellow trainers and we only worked together a couple days a week. On the days she wasn't there, I felt a longing, missing her. I couldn't deny my burgeoning feelings. Plans be damned! I had other dreams, too. Companionship. Friendship. Love. I asked her out in the store while she was the only one in the building.
A Kurt Russell movie, wings, drinks at a dive bar under the North Olmsted water tower. That was our first date. It was perfect. Julie was someone I could say anything to, someone I didn't feel inhibited or embarrassed to talk to. The night was completed with a kiss. God damn, what a kiss. It was like a thunderbolt thrown down from the heavens meant to shake me to my core. Mission accomplished.
"What's wrong with you?" my sister asked, as I entered my parents' house after the date.
"I think I just went out with the girl I'm going to marry," I said.
No bullshit. That's how it happened.
A month later, I told Julie that I loved her and that I wanted her to come to California with me. She wanted to go where I went. The summer job got extended indefinitely. During Thanksgiving of 1992, I proposed by serenading Julie with Bruce Springsteen's "Book of Dreams." It had been our song since I included it on the first mix tape I made her. It's one of Springsteen's lesser known gems, appearing on his much overlooked album, Lucky Town. Simple, direct, it's Springsteen at his storytelling best. "Book of Dreams" details the intimate moments enveloped in his love for his wife, Patti Scialfa, and their wedding day.
Julie had once told me she wanted to be proposed to with the song "You Are the Woman" by Firefall. I asked my friend, Matt, to teach me that one on the guitar. He suggested a song more meaningful to my relationship with Julie. God bless him. For as long as we knew each other, this was the greatest piece of advice he ever gave me. I'm not a guitar player. It took me weeks to learn the four chords of the song. I wish I could still play it.
California waited. We planned our wedding for December 30, 1993. On a very cold and snowy night in Cleveland, Julie and I exchanged our vows at St. Malachi's church, the sanctuary decorated with red poinsettias. Later in the evening, at our reception, we had our first dance as husband and wife, swaying to the gentle folk melody of Springsteen's "Book of Dreams."
It's been thirty years. I can't say they've gone by in a flash. No, that would be a disservice to the years of love and hard work we've put into our life together. Happy days, tragedies, arguments, quiet times, discoveries, two wonderful children, climbing the peaks and valleys of a marriage. I'm amazed each day how I can love this woman more than I did the day we exchanged vows, but I do. She's my rock, my best friend, and on the days we don't see each other or speak as much, I still feel that longing and miss her.
How do you describe the kind of relationship that completes you? Perhaps I just did, I don't know. All I can say is that all of the dreams that I've had in my life, this is the only one that matters, the one that I continue to pursue and find joy from. Thank you, Julie, my darling wife, for making me a better man, a better husband, and a better father.
"Scott thinks he knows what he's doing."
They didn't understand. This was the hand of fate placed on my heart, assuring me that I'd met my one true love.
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