I am Mike. I grew up in a small town that was so far out in the middle of nowhere that we were heading back in on the other side. If you farted on the south side of town, they knew about it on the north side within 5 minutes. We did not have a stop light in town, just a 4 way stop at the square.
I was never a person that someone would notice. Average is the best way to describe me. Height, weight, looks, you name it, YEP I was average. I could stand alone in the middle of a stadium and no one would take notice. I was however smarter than most, and my sense of humor was top notch. I had a few good friends, but we all were about the same, average.
I graduated high school somewhere near the top of my class, and went to work for a local photographer. He worked as an industrial photographer, would only do a wedding as a favor to a good friend. I was just a go-fer for about a year, learning the equipment, helping to set up shoots and carrying the extra equipment on jobs. The pay was OK, but nothing to get excited about. Since I lived at home with my folks, I did not need a lot of money, so I saved as much as I could.
The fellow I worked for was getting on in years, and did not want to be out on a limb with his customers if he ran into a health problem. He taught me the same way he had learned; slow but sure, master one thing and then go on to the next. He was happy with my progress and had started to allow me to shoot some simple jobs. Life was good!
Then in 1991 we had that awful day, September 11th. To say I was angry that it had happened is an understatement. I had to do something, so I decided to sign up for the National Guard. Except for church on Sunday my weekends were free most of the time, so why not. And the extra money went right into savings. I wanted to buy my own place, just needed a little more for the down payment.
Life was still good; I had a job, a car, money in the bank and some true friends. What else could you want?
Well, I like girls but never met any that took to me. Mom and Dad married in their early 30's, so I figured that it would be that way with me too.
When I returned from basic training my friends threw a party to welcome me back. No one had thrown a party like that for me. Birthdays in my family were a quiet dinner at home, your favorite meal of course. And, you got to choose the dessert. My sister and I always loved mom's cakes. I always chose yellow with butter cream frosting, my mouth is watering. My sister loved German Chocolate. On my father's birthday he was quite partial to Mom's Rhubarb Cream Pie, warm with vanilla ice cream of course.
Dad always stopped of at the bakery and got Mom a dessert for her birthday; I do not remember him ever getting the same dessert a second time. They were all good, but not as good as Mom's. Dad also fixed dinner for Mom's birthday, it helped that her birthday was in July as he always fixed something in the charcoal grill. No gas grill for Dad, this was his day to show Mom how much he loved and appreciated her. He had to do it right. As my sister and I got older we were allowed to help prepare the side dishes.
At your birthday dinner you could bring a guest, I always brought Scott. He and I had been best friends since before kindergarten. For the last few years my sister brought her boyfriend "Du Jour". She was never promiscuous; she just went through boyfriends faster than anyone I ever met. Mom and Dad, on their birthdays, always set an extra place and left the seat vacant because, that was their way. They said it was to allow for growth.
Where was I?
Oh yes, The Party. My friends planned and threw it, everyone we and they knew was invited. There were friends, relations, in-laws, out-laws and a few persons who just happened to be in town to visit the other people who were invited. They rented the pavilion in the park. Everyone was told to bring a favorite side dish to share and the guys supplied burgers, dogs and chicken for the grill. Everyone brought their favorite drinks.
That was the day she walked into my life, sort of. Mary! She was the niece of neighbors on the next block from our place. I remember her from years back, I delivered the paper to her Aunt and Uncle, and she would sometimes be there with her family. We had never spoken, and I doubt if she ever noticed me as I walked my paper route.