Stories

Meeting Kim

I met Kimberly at Church after my first enlistment in the Army.

At the time, I wasn't looking to meet anyone. My plans for the future died with my divorce from Becki.  I was in a dark phase of not caring, returning to my reckless ways.  I was financially destitute and living with Mom and Dad.  I was passed over at work for a kid right out of college.  Most of my co-workers were not my kind of people.

I missed The Army.  I was considering going back in.

The church was my safe place.  There, I was with my old friends, military and pro-military people, who supported me and loved me no matter what.  Though everything we studied told me I was a failure as a man, husband, father, and leader, I continued to attend.

Boyce and Debra Smith pulled me through the dark days.  They refused to let me be alone.  I practically lived at their house until it was time to sleep.

At church, we sat in the back at tables, taking notes.  I always sat with Boyce, Jim Cadden, Steve Tawbush, and Ed Lacey.

One morning, before Ron began his lesson, a beautiful girl walked in, mingling in the front.  She was the prettiest girl I had ever seen.  I was instantly interested.

I leaned over to Boyce and asked, "Who is THAT?!"

"Who"

"That gorgeous girl up front."

"Kim Dennis."

Now, I remembered Kim from before I left for the Army - cute, thirteen, the daughter of Sylvia and Bill.

"No, the girl up there talking to Bill and Sylvia . . . That's Kim Dennis?!  Wow, she grew up."

"John, she's only eighteen." 

I was twenty-seven.  Boyce was the first, but not the last, to point out the "problem."  The nine-year difference did not matter to me; I had to talk to her.

At the halftime break, I found her sitting behind the wheel of her dad's gigantic black Cadillac.  I did what every Paratrooper does when he wants to interest a girl; I insulted her.

"I bet you think you're big stuff driving that car?"

I don't think I impressed her at all.

The following weekend, she was back, looking even more beautiful.  She and I ran into each other in the hall.  She was carrying a bunch of flowers.  I insulted her again.  "Who would buy YOU flowers?"

"Everyone, because I'm everyone's sweetheart," was her quick reply.

"I believe you must be true," I said. 

That worked.

We stood in the hall and had a good conversation.  It was fun and light.  I was captivated.

I tried to convince myself that we could only be friends because of the age difference.  My friends constantly reminded me of it as well.  I felt the disapproval in the eyes watching us at church.

Yeah, that conviction lasted about a week.

I invited her over to Boyce's for movie night.  We were watching Lawrence of Arabia, which I billed as a Very Romantic Movie.  By that, I meant the romance of the desert, the romance of a good story.  She asked me if the romance was between one of the characters and his camel or something because she hadn't seen one female in the movie.

The movie worked, too.  From that day on, we spent every day together.  Kimberly was my reason for getting my life together.  She brought fun back into my life.  I was in love.  Everyone knew it.

By December, I knew I wanted to marry her.  I told her so at the Motion Industries Christmas Party.

In the new year, I decided to reenlist in the Army, but not without consulting her.  Once I did, she moved to Raleigh to be close.  I gave her my car to pick me up on Friday so we could spend the weekends together.

When I talked to Bill, he did not question but gave sound advice.  Not once did he indicate that the match was wrong.  Others were unconvinced.  My buddies held an intervention.  They asked me to come over to Boyce's house, where they sat in a semicircle around me and questioned my intentions, sanity, and future.  Our pastor, Bill's best friend, refused to do the ceremony.  His religion gave him a long list of issues that said we shouldn't be together - my divorce, a child by my first marriage, our age difference, her age, the Army.

I stood my ground.  We stood our ground.

We were married in the Division Main Chapel on Ft. Bragg on 6 December 1981.  My battalion chaplain performed the service wearing a shiny brown leisure suit and a big wooden cross instead of his uniform.  Brett Niles and Mitch Pigg attended.  Kim, Brett, and I had the Reception at Godfather's Pizza.  The ceremony continued with her Aunt Barbara and Uncle Luke in Raleigh, with a cake Barbara had made for us.  For a honeymoon, we went to her mom and dad's in Birmingham for her furniture for our bare apartment.

We started our life together at Cambridge Arms Apartments on Yadkin Road with her bedroom furniture, a broken recliner, and a borrowed TV set.

Before long, she knew the UPS man and the postman by name as she ordered things we needed.  Her attitude was, "Get it now; pay for it later." She knew how to operate without me; I was gone for almost half of 1982.  She built a life for us.

I knew I was the luckiest guy in the world. 

My Army buddies adored Kim.

She gave me Jonathon nine months and two days after the wedding.  She delivered Elise when I was in Turkey, traveling to Izmir and then back, with a three-year-old and a baby to spend the summer with me.

She has followed me to Turkey, England, and around the country with no complaints and kept me laughing and happy the whole way.  She never held the missed birthdays, anniversaries, or holidays against me or the Army.

Just to set the record straight - a lot of my fun stories about her are either false or highly embellished:

We did not start dating when she was thirteen.

She did not dance drunk on the table at Red Lobster in front of the Division or any other Commander.  She may have had one daiquiri too many, but no one knew it but me.

She did trip me in front of my whole platoon at a Scout picnic.  Yes, I fell on my face.

My car did not jump to 110 mph when I switched on the cruise control after she took it to Baby Doe's one night.  I think it was 60.  It could have been 70.

It was not her fault that the transmission fell out of my new 81 Camaro.  I was the one who hit the shift and knocked it into neutral.  Putting the car in Reverse at 65 mph was understandable.  My Fault!

I cannot imagine my life without her or remember a time before her.  I see my years before Kim as preparation for life with her. 

And, yet, I was not ready.  I had no idea how good it could be. 

She and I like to say, "Oh! So this is how it's supposed to be."