April 1994

On probably April 9, Seymour said to me at work as James sat next to me at the desk, "Did you hear that Kurt Cobain died?" He told me at least some of the lurid details, that Cobain, the lead singer of Nirvana, had just killed himself at age 27, and been found on April 8. I sat in shock and disbelief. Seymour said, "But you don't listen to Nirvana, do you?" and I said I loved Nirvana. James didn't like Nirvana, and was satirical about the whole thing. I, however, was devastated. Though not one of those people who held up Cobain as some sort of god, I loved his music.

This is what I wrote to Pearl in my Botany notes on the 15th, about the night of April 12:

"Want details? Don't tell Maura or Dave--they don't know yet--he's afraid to tell his mom." That may be because we had only been together for two and a half months. "4/12 late evening, probably 10 or 11; my parents know already; we wanted to keep it a secret at first, but, as you see, it didn't work--who told you?"

She said that Jennifer's Mike overheard Phil calling me "fancy," his cute version of "fiancée," while we were in the library.

"Oops.

"He didn't plan to--he got the idea all of a sudden: Why not now? Why wait? Let's just make it official; we're already talking about it. He had a vision of himself doing it. A minute later, he was on his knees in front of me (main lounge--one of the couches)," (we were alone in Krueger lounge), "asking me if I loved him. I had a suspicion. Then he asked me if I'd marry him, and I said yes." I didn't mention a nagging feeling I'd had (and ignored) that I shouldn't say yes so soon.

When would he tell his parents?

"When he gets the chance and the nerve; my parents are OK with it."

When will I get an engagement ring?

"Next fall, when he (hopefully) can afford it--right now I have the 'engagement bird.'" That is, the porcelain bird I mentioned before. Somebody later joked that Phil "gave me the bird."

Pearl may have asked me earlier, and I may have tried to evade the question, according to some notes I made a couple years later. But I don't remember that now.

On the night of the 12th, Phil and I went to get the bird from his house, and it felt so very weird to be engaged. Not pre-engaged--formally, officially engaged. After all this time of being lonely, I finally knew who I was to marry!

I said as we walked away from Krueger, thinking that I didn't want the engagement to end, "I hope it's the only time someone will propose to me."

Phil smiled and said, "So do I!"

Isn't it a good thing that hope was not fulfilled!

On April 18, I spoke with Pearl through my Botany notes again. I wrote, "His mom did think he was joking." We'd stopped on the way out the door one day, and Phil had told his parents as they sat in the living room. His mom thought he was joking, and I think she laughed or joked right back. I wrote that before he told her, "Someone went up to her to congratulate her and she said, For what? She wants him to wait until he graduates. That's too long! There's got to be a way around that."

Phil decided to work with his advisor so he could graduate, even with a double major of Theater and Math, half a year early and half a year after I did. It still seemed like such a long time to wait, especially after I had been waiting for my own graduation to be able to get married to someone, not for anybody else's.

One day I saw my old roommate Candice in the cafeteria, sitting with her best friend, probably her new boyfriend, and maybe a few others. I sat with them during lunch. I told Candice I was engaged to Phil, and she said, "Is that Dave's brother?" I hadn't known she knew Dave.

My old boss Nancy found out I was engaged, and had me point him out to her one day at lunch. "Ooh! And he's all yours!" she chirped.

Soon after the engagement, Catherine and Rachel came to visit my room and see the bird, and Phil was there. I think someone asked about our religious differences, and when I nonchalantly said I wasn't converting, Phil said,

"That would make it hard for us to get married."

(Despite the fact that plenty of Protestants and Catholics get married to each other without either one converting. I didn't know that priests can bless such marriages, just that they were legal. If I'd known that a priest can bless such marriages, and if Phil had said so, we could have settled the argument easily.) Rachel and Catherine left, a bit uncomfortable about "starting an argument" between us. Later that day, Catherine made a comment or two to me; I believe she said something about being sure and realizing I didn't have to go through with marrying him if I wasn't. Though I didn't catch this at the time, she was trying to warn me not to marry Phil.

I couldn't convert. Protestant beliefs and ideals were too deeply ingrained in me. I thought I could never go to confession or drink wine at Mass. I believed that priests should marry. I didn't believe that the bread and wine turned into Christ's body and blood. I was proud to be Nazarene. I loved my Holiness heritage. It would take many, many years before I even considered the notion that Protestantism had many doctrinal problems of its own. And being forced into this notion would never work; force only inspires defensiveness. On the other hand, patience, tolerance and acceptance have often been known to inspire conversion as the Holy Spirit is allowed to work.

I would never force Phil to change his beliefs, but I wanted the same consideration, and my dad would state over the summer that he refused to pay for a Catholic wedding. I did not agree that Catholics were part of a cult or not really Christian, but as a Nazarene I had serious problems with Catholic doctrine, and did not want to convert. I forget how the argument played out, but it seems that we agreed that nobody had to convert to anything. When, over the summer, I told Phil my dad refused to pay for a Catholic wedding, he was upset, of course. But the official engagement and the future planning went on as normal.

We did keep getting into arguments over doctrines; I acknowledged my own fault in that, because with my friends I was usually tolerant of different doctrines, but with serious boyfriends I kept falling into the trap of arguing. (Cugan says that "You're not getting married to your friends.") I recall with a shudder that I once pulled out one of my dad's books to show him why I didn't want to convert; it was published in 1969 and called, Why I Am A Nazarene / and not a / Mormon / Roman Catholic / Jehovah's Witness / Christian Scientist / Seventh-Day Adventist. (To my surprise, there are references to this book on the Internet, and you can still buy it--for quite a bit of money--here.) In those days, I didn't realize how biased the book was against Catholicism or how arrogant the title was. I remember Phil being (rightly) offended by it; I believe he even refuted some of the things it said.

It bugged me that I wasn't as tolerant as I wanted to be, and I kept trying to correct that. But it wasn't just me; Phil seemed to give Nazarene doctrines no more tolerance than I gave Catholic ones. He argued that the Catholic church was right because it was the historical church; I countered that going Catholic would mean turning my back on all the changes made by Protestants, things which I believed returned Christianity to the truth of the Bible after the many changes made by Catholicism in the Middle Ages. At first, as I noted in the February 1994 chapter, he didn't want to continue going to my church; over the summer, when we stayed at my home, he refused to go with me to Sunday School. I saw this as stubbornness and a refusal to compromise; going to my church and visiting my Sunday School class would not force him into conversion. I loved visiting his church, and would not have minded going to his Sunday School class (except that I don't believe he had one). (Cugan tells me he's never felt pressured by me to convert, and that I've never treated him like he wasn't a Christian for not having had a "born-again experience.")

Over the months of our public engagement (and private marriage), I seem to recall two conflicting feelings: 1) feeling that I did not have to convert, we would marry anyway in my church, and 2) feeling pressured to give up my own beliefs when I felt they'd be replaced with unbiblical ones. You can agree or disagree with the concept of Catholic beliefs being biblical, but you can't deny that a radical conversion should be neither forced nor rushed. I'm not sure why I felt both ways. Maybe Phil allowed me to continue in my "heresy," but secretly hoped I would convert anyway. I hoped he would convert, too, but rather than trying to change his mind about Catholicism, I believe I mostly wanted to convince him that I wasn't a "heretic." He, however, when I piece together memories, seems to have been trying to push me into converting without actually saying so. He once made an analogy to switching an "old reliable" car for a new car and ending up by the side of the road--what could happen if he became Nazarene. But he didn't seem to recognize that the same analogy applied to me becoming Catholic.

After all these years, there are three main things I want to point out: 1) While I no longer have the views about Catholicism which I grew up with, still, one should never be forced to change religions. So I do not believe I erred in refusing to be forced to convert, especially so quickly. 2) DO NOT refuse to attend church/Sunday School with your significant other, even if his/her church has serious doctrinal problems, because this can be seen as controlling, i.e. "my religion or the highway." You can respectfully say why you have problems with the church, but keep going if it means much to your significant other--as long as he/she keeps going to your church as well. In time, perhaps he/she will see things the way you do. However, if for some reason your church will excommunicate you if you go to his/her church, then say so, so it will be seen as the mandate of the church, not your stubborn refusal. 3) DO NOT force conversion, but allow the Holy Spirit to speak, because belittling and forced conversion, or forcing your spouse to raise the children in a faith he/she hasn't agreed to, is spiritual abuse. Look for ways your church might allow marriage between you without forcing him/her to convert, rather than digging in your heels and demanding conversion or nothing. A Christian is a Christian, no matter what the denomination, but if a mixed marriage truly bothers you, then don't date/get engaged to someone of another denomination in the first place.

Phil got upset because I refused to say "obey" in our marriage vows. I looked in the Nazarene manual I'd brought to school with me, and in its outline for a marriage ceremony, "obey" never appeared. Phil wanted me to ask the pastor to put "obey" in the marriage vows when he officiated our wedding; I refused.

Phil said, "I thought you weren’t one of those feminists."

But I think most women would agree with me on this these days, at least most American women.

He said, "And even if I said, 'Don't have an affair,' you wouldn't obey me?" As if I would have one! And the marriage vows already forbade that. He made it sound as if I should let him order me around like a child, and if he didn't, I'd do wrong things, just like a child who doesn't know any better!

I have since learned that the Bible verses about submission don't mean "obey," an obligation like with a servant or child or in the military, but to voluntarily give yourself over to someone else. The husband and wife are to submit to each other, with the husband not demanding obedience but giving love and protection. Phil was looking at my "obligations," but not at his own. I didn't realize yet that this was a big, red flag. (Was the NVLD blinding my eyes, or just love/infatuation?) It wasn't until mid fall when I put a name to this: abusing authority, which is a sign of emotional abuse.

It concerns me that many Christians use the word "feminism" as if it's a bad word, as if it means man-hating or anti-Christian. "Feminism," in itself, is not a bad thing. It simply means that women are equal to men and should be treated as such. This is not some atheistic idea; it goes back to ancient Christianity. Forget everything you've heard about St. Paul's writings; for his day, his writings were actually feminist. He insisted that men should treat their wives like loving partners, not like slaves who must be punished if they step out of line. He said that in Christ, there is no male or female.

There has never been anything wrong with women demanding respect and fair treatment, not just in the workplace and society but at home. Where many women (including me) object to feminism is in its militant, man-hating form. You know, the type which makes women "better" than men and inspired the saying, "Women need men like fish need a bicycle." Another type many women object to is the one which says women must or should work outside the home to be fully functioning or contributing human beings. However, it is hardly militant feminism to insist on being treated as an equal.

So when Phil objected to my moderate form of feminism, that should have been a red flag--no, a huge, scarlet flag with warning lights. Girls, never even date a man who insists that his wife should be obedient! Even if this man seems kind and sweet in every other way--once he becomes your husband, he will probably turn into a power-hungry tyrant. Phil seemed kind and sweet in every other way.

Around this time, my mom told me that my older brother, Jake, was also engaged to his new girlfriend, Pam. It was so hard to imagine either of my brothers with a wife and kids.

Pam and Jake made a cute couple. Pam always laughed and teased Jake, and Jake seemed to enjoy her company and even the teasing. She even knew how to handle him, knowing he could be a bit chauvinistic at times, but not acting like some subservient wife.

As usual, my friends would say after lunch, "Let's go check mail.--I want mail.--I want a male!" It was so wonderful to finally have a male of my own.

The Enigma video "Return to Innocence" came out around this time, and Phil and I both liked it. It showed a French couple's life moving backwards from death through old age through middle age through youth, a time in a hayloft before they got married, their first meeting, their childhoods apart from each other. It was beautiful--though I wasn't quite sure what to think of the hayloft.

One night on Melrose Place, Billy went to get an engagement ring for Allison, for the wedding that we viewers had waited maybe two years for. I don't remember them mentioning the two months' salary rule--in fact, I don't think I ever heard of it before I got my own engagement ring in 1996--but the ring salesman said, "The size of the diamond reflects how much love you feel for the woman." Clarissa and I both thought this was ridiculous. The look of the ring, and the fact that you even have a ring, is far more important than the size of the diamond. (The look of the ring is especially important because if she doesn't like it, she might exchange it. She'll probably be wearing it for the rest of her life, after all.)

I watched Melrose Place faithfully every week, especially now that things were really getting psychotic. It was a guilty pleasure, which it had never been before. In time the show would start going down the toilet, with everyone sleeping with everyone else and everyone wanting to blow up the place, and by then I didn't like it at all. But for now, it was exciting.

Phil's mom told him he could get an engagement ring really cheap--$300, I believe it was--from a certain catalog. I believe the catalog was for a discount store or warehouse. So this became our plan.

He told me to decide which state I wanted to live in. He said the movie studios were in California, New York and Texas (though I'd never heard of one there), and we'd go wherever I wanted. I chose Texas because I had liked it when I'd been there, didn't want to go to some huge, crime-ridden, concrete-jungle place like New York City was in those days, and didn't want to go to California where Hollywood influenced things. Florida may also have been an option, but I don't remember why I would have rejected it. (I know why I would now: too hot, too humid, and too many huge bugs! I also know that I don't want to live anywhere but the Midwest. Sure we have winter, but we have plenty of other benefits to make up for that, such as the bugs dying or going into hibernation for several months each year.)

We talked about going down to Texas when we got married, and starting an adventure, me working while he found a job at a studio there. Or staying in S-- for a while, living at a park in a place we'd build (though I wasn't so sure the park would let us), and using the stream there for water (his idea). He wanted to build a place on his parents' deck, but his mom wouldn't let him. (Yes, he had some odd ideas.) He wanted to return to S-- one day, though I didn't want to.

We also thought of living in the woods or on a desert island. At first he didn't think I'd like to live on a desert island, but discovered to his joy that I would love to. (This was before I realized I hated camping. It's also before I realized how full of mosquitoes and other bugs the woods can be.)

One day, I saw in the glass display case by the mailboxes, an article from probably the S-- Press about one of our Latvian students. After graduation, he eventually became First Deputy Prime Minister of Latvia. (I'm not kidding.) This tall, cute guy was married, and said that he and his wife had married without thought for finances or school. Things were different over there than in America, where people try to finish school and get their finances together before marrying. I longed to be able to do the same, and marry Phil right away.

In probably April, my roommies-to-be and I went down to the new apartment buildings, which were built but not yet finished, to see what they'd look like inside. We went into what we already knew to be our apartment, which at that time was sawdust and bare wood and insulation. It looked so tiny then, but we were to find that, with carpeting and furniture, the rooms would seem to get larger. We thought we wouldn't be able to fit, but were to discover in the fall that we all fit in there quite easily, thanks to lots of well-placed cabinets and wire stacking drawers. (More on that is in the September chapter.) I thought I'd leave the apartment about halfway through the year, get married, and move into another one with Phil, as we'd been speaking of doing, but I didn't mention this at the time.

I used to love the song "Loser" by Beck, but during Hell Week, the Pi-Kapp pledges had to sing it in a yell to the actives every day at lunch. They'd put their hands on their hips and move their torsos around. It was part of a song they had put together about the actives and/or about themselves, which to them was funny but to the rest of us was just plain annoying. I once thought pledges were funny during Hell Week, but now I found the antics annoying, from the Pi-Kapp pledges walking around wearing menu signs to the yelled greetings pledges had to give the actives.

We didn't want to wait to marry when we were so sure we belonged together. But Phil's mom didn't want us to get married until after he graduated--at least a year and a half away. So on Sunday, April 24, we married in secret. We followed a time-honored custom, called verbum or clandestine marriage in the Middle Ages, handfasting in Celtic days and days of itinerant priests, common-law marriage in the pioneer days when ministers were itinerant or absent, and common-law or spiritual marriage in modern America. Handfasting only lasted a year and a day, but I haven't heard of time limits on the other kinds of marriages. The wedding would take place, with or without witnesses, and be binding before God; eventually, if possible, it would be made sacramental as well. Only in modern times are such marriages not legally recognized. We didn't know the term handfasting, but probably would have used it if we did, because we intended to cement it with a legal, public ceremony in the summer of 1995--not go on with a clandestine or spiritual marriage forever. Eventually, we even signed a simple statement that we were married.

(It's hard to make the decision to have this story on the Web, though in this day and age it probably doesn't matter. I probably have little to fear in the court of public opinion from posting that my first marriage was not even legal or public, especially so many years after it happened. But in more conservative circles, it can be seen as shameful. I keep it here to show the dangers inherent in nonlegal marriages, and to explain many details of our relationship which would otherwise make little sense.)

No, I did not say "obey," and Phil let it go, with a smile.

Phil didn't want me to tell anyone about our marriage because he was afraid we'd get in trouble with our parents.

April 24 was a beautiful day to get married. It was sunny, and the weather had finally warmed up--80s, I believe. The house was opened up to let in the fresh air.

A bunch of us planned to go to a Choir concert that evening. I wanted to finally get my own copies of Pearl's Choir CD's. My friends and I rode in a car to the place of the concert. They were Pearl, Mike, probably Sharon, and probably Tara or Astrid. When we got to the place, it was deserted: no concert, no sign that there ever was to be one! We were confused, especially Pearl, who had read about the concert in her CCM magazine. The others decided to go to a movie, rather than just coming out all that way for nothing.

I'd never heard of the movie The Paper and the movie poster didn't interest me, but my friends wanted to see it. I ended up loving it. These are my impressions of it:

Yes, as they said in the beginning, the whole world can change in twenty-four hours. After all, all of a sudden I was married! I hadn't expected that when I got up that morning. I'd had no idea what the movie was about, especially when I saw the opening scene with two black teenagers finding horrors. I may have feared it was one of those gross action films. The movie was wonderfully loony, with "Let Marty talk to her husband," Robin the green, fourteen-year-old photographer (I didn't know that was legal), and "A bullet came out of the wall--why did the bullet come out of the wall?" (Our group loved this and began reciting it.) Pearl cried out in dismay and shock, which I also felt, when Marty found blood instead of water on the floor when she was near her time. I wondered if Phil and I would ever be in that situation, with me nearly dying from hemorrhaging during a pregnancy, and how we would deal with it. We all loved the movie.

On the way back to Roanoke, maybe an hour or two earlier than we'd originally expected, I sat on the right side of the car and could see the moon. It looked midnight blue behind the clouds. It was so beautiful that night, the perfect end to a perfect day for a wedding. I was silent and thoughtful, thinking of my new, secret status as wife.

Rather than going directly to Roanoke, the others decided to go on to S-- and have a snack at Country Kitchen. I had something with hot fudge and ice cream, and maybe a Dew or Root Beer as well. The others spoke of staying up all night and watching the sun come up. I don't remember if they actually did it, but I said I didn't want to do that this time. (I had a husband to get back to.) It began to rain hard. I don't remember how long we stayed there, but we finished our snack and the time finally came for us to go back to Roanoke.

The song "Don't Turn Around" by Ace of Base came on around this time, and I would listen to it as Phil and I sat at the computer at his house. We often listened to WIXX while sitting at the computer and playing games or working on homework, and those were happy days. Some of the lines were, "Don't turn around--I don't want you seeing me crying." It was about a woman whose boyfriend had just broken up with her, and though she was devastated, she didn't want him to see what he'd done to her. I'd hear this and their song "I Saw the Sign" (about a woman who finally realized her ex was not the one for her and she could find the one who was), and think how glad I was that--since we were married before God--the song would never apply to me ever again as long as Phil and I both lived.

There was yet another Honors Convocation on Friday, April 29 at 6:30pm. Phil and I were both honored in it because we were both in the Honors CORE program. It was odd to be honored for something that basically amounted to being in one Studies class instead of another. Tables were all set up and covered with cloths in Bossard, and our parents all came, taking this chance to meet each other. Little Taylor came along as well. We met them at the Campus Center at 5:50, and the banquet was at 6. It was funny that our mothers had the same name. Our parents seemed to get along really well.

May 1994