True Love Stories: One glance at his baby blues, and it was love at first sight
On March 3, 1972, I was a 17-year-old senior at Carson High School. My neighbor, a 1971 grad and motocross racer, was away in Denver at school, but everybody still hung out at his parents’ house, most of them also motocross racers.
His mom, Gloria, was a character and always made bets with the guys about their upcoming races and often paid their entry fees for them. She invited me to dinner one night as she was paying up with a steak dinner for one of the guys who had won 1st place the previous Sunday.
I was seated at the table next to Roger. He had shoulder-length sun-bleached hair and, in spite of the black Buddy Holly glasses he wore, the bluest eyes I had ever seen. As I sat down, I felt like I had been struck by the proverbial Mack truck and thought to myself, “This is who I am going to marry and spend the rest of my life with.” Weird, I know, but it really felt like a certainty.
He hurried off after dinner and I asked Gloria to invite him to dinner the following weekend under the guise of her husband’s birthday. Roger told me later that he always wondered why he was invited. Little did he know I was committed to chasing him until he caught me. I continued to arrange to be where he would run into me.
Our first kiss was on Easter that year on my front porch; very tentative as I had old-style metal braces on my teeth. It was electric. We were married three years later in Gloria’s backyard on July 20, 1975, and have been inseparable since. We will celebrate the 38th anniversary of our meeting this year; he never forgets to send flowers on this day.
Roger is the kindest, most thoughtful man I have ever known. Friends of mine have asked me more than once if he has a clone. After all these years, through thick and thin, illness and health, I love him with all my heart and still feel that little thrill when I hear his voice. Thirty-five years later, we still fall asleep in each other’s arms every night.
Lori Fettic Heath