School Story:
At the request of Dale Armstrong, I am including this story. Since it had its beginning in my senior year, perhaps it will fit into this category.
Larry
The Story of Our Love
I met Berniece Ringering on the 19th day of February 1962. She was working as a nurses’ aide in the surgical department of Alton Memorial Hospital. I had been hired as a surgical orderly. After being introduced to Berniece I paid very little attention to her. Oh, I wasn’t blind, I certainly noticed that she was rather good looking, at least her face. With both of us being dressed in ill fitting surgical scrubs there wasn’t a whole lot left to draw my attention to her. Besides, I was engaged to a girl in Bethalto at the time.
After a couple of months Patty and I began to have some rather serious arguments. Until then I paid little attention to Berniece. Now, I must admit that somehow she was drawing my attention more than she had a few weeks earlier. We were beginning to converse more and more. I started to like her in somewhat more of an emotional way.
One evening Berniece was without a ride home. She asked if I could provide her transportation. I surprised myself with how fast I said,”You bet!” A couple of evenings later she offered to buy me a chocolate malt at Blocks Ice-cream if I would take her home again. The bribe of a malt, and I loved them, had nothing to do with my instantly agreeing to provide her transportation once again. I was so thrilled, that had she offered to buy herself a malt and me a garlic and onion float I would still have accepted – and even drink the float. Boy, I was getting myself into deep trouble. There I was, promised to someone else and realizing that I was wanting to spend more of my time with Berniece than with Patty.
I absolutely could not treat Patty that way. No doubt about it, I still loved her. I found myself in an either / or type situation. After much agonizing thought and prayer I knew I had to make a choice. I could leave the certainty of a relationship with Patty or I could drift into the uncertainty of a relationship with Berniece. I chose to do the hardest thing that I had ever done in my life – I broke my word to Patty when I ended our engagement.
Very soon after my break up, Berniece and I were sitting in the nurses lounge on the surgical floor sipping Cokes. I happened to catch a glimpse of the bottle as it so gently touched her lips. My imagination kindled like an unquenchable fire. I had to find out just what that nurses aide’s lips felt like!
On the night of June 26, I took her for a ride on the River Road. Slowly we drove up to Clifton Terrace where the road ended. On the way back the majestic beauty was serving as nature’s tranquilizer. Tall cliffs sculpted by the last rays of a setting sun towered on our left. The mighty Mississippi flowed not twenty five feet to our right. A hundred lights from the distant shore danced and played on the crest of every wave.
That special drive along the trail of mighty waters was blessed by the legendary Piasa Bird who rested high upon the painted bluff while watching over his vast domain.
When reaching the downtown junction, rather than turn left and take her home, I chose to drive into the River Front Park. All the while I was intensely planning, scheming and building up my nerve. To have walked a wire stretched across Niagra Falls without a safety net would have been easier than what I was going through.
We had driven though the park and were on our way back. Time was running out when something in my brain yelled STOP! I almost crammed the break pedal into the radiator of “My Blue Heaven”. There, under the pastel moonlight light and the watchful bronze gaze of the WWI Dough Boy, my question was answered. This figure from the past, with hand grenade, Helmut and bayonet, motionlessly kept vigil over us from high upon his granite stand.
Later that summer she and I went to Springfield, Illinois to the State Fair. The two of us spent the entire day totally engrossed in one another plus having nonstop fun. I remember the proud feeling that I had just being with Berniece. I KNEW that she was the most beautiful girl of all on the fairground. Her looks, the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand and to look into her eyes, WOW! No mortal has yet spoken words that can describe how Berneice Ringering made this eighteen-year old boy feel.
Four children, nineteen grandchildren, two great grandchildren and nearly fifty years later, Berniece and I are still hanging out together.
Larry Lamb
