vintage memories
They Love By Quinn White Each Other
A
her, if they could talk, and she responded in exasperation, “Haven’t we said it all?” Meekly, Kevin answered, “Well … there is one thing we haven’t said.” He then drove over to her house where she was sunbathing and asked her to marry him. He offered her the wedding band that her great-grandmother passed down for this occasion. “I actually still have the hall pass,” Kevin finds the ragged piece of paper, smiles, and reads it: “Mara Campmier (913) 266-8294.” The hall pass is safe with him and the family jewel has been passed down to me, the second of Kevin and Mara’s four children. The two will cel- ebrate their 31st year of marriage this autumn.
for an hour or so. We talked, and I asked for her number.” She agreed and wrote it on the back of a Topeka High School hall pass. Their first date was to the movie theater, and their movie choices were “The Jerk” and “Jesus.” They flipped a coin, and “Jesus” won. This was telling, as Kevin and Mara were in different places in their lives. Kevin was 21; Mara was 17. Kevin was an ex-Catholic agnostic; Mara was a recently converted Christian. Kevin was not ready for a serious relationship; Mara was ready to find her husband. These differences were bridged throughout their long-distance relationship that resulted in some ridiculous phone bills (this occurring before the age of cell phones, of course). But Kevin’s fear of a lifelong commitment was still a hurdle. “After a short time of dating I realized that there was something different about Mara. Something about her personality caught me. I thought, ‘Uh oh, I could really see myself fall- ing in love with this girl.’ But I was still afraid of marriage. It was a scary thing at that time in my life,” Kevin admits. They dated for about two years, during which Mara called it off twice out of the frustration of waiting for Kevin to ask her to marry him. But during their final separation, Kevin came to re- alize that he really did not want to lose her, that she was really special. So he took a leap. He called her house to see if he could visit
utumn is a time for change: Leaves turn, temperatures cool and school commences. For Kevin Sipe, the fall of 1979 ushered in changes much
more monumental than the typical autumn transitions—some he chose, and one that seemed to choose him. He had recently moved from a suburb of Minneapolis to Bonnor Springs, KS, to live with his brother, learn carpentry and escape a broken heart. “I had dated a girl for three-and-a-half years before I moved, and we both thought that it would end in marriage. When it didn’t work out, I had a really hard time dealing with it,” Kevin remembers, “After this experience, my mindset was that I would not take relationships so seriously and would not ever get married.” He dated casually when he arrived in Kansas, but he decided to travel solo to a two-day concert series put on by The Grateful Dead. The first night, he noticed two girls on the arena floor who kept glancing back at him throughout the night. He remembered being amused at how obvious they were at checking him out. Finally, one of them approached him and asked for the time. “It was funny because there was a giant clock on the wall, and plus, who is concerned with the time at a concert?” Kevin chuckles, “But I didn’t mind because she was cute. We hung out
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P.S. Did you catch that Grateful Dead reference in the title? The band first performed “They Love Each Other” in 1973.
Quinn White is a writer, knitter and teacher from Olathe, KS. She chronicles the memories and reflections of those around her because she believes the hearing and telling of each others’ stories and life lessons can be consoling, galvanizing and transformative.
Do you know someone with particularly wonderful vintage memories? Tell us about it at erin@vintagekcmag.com.
VintageKC / Fall 2012 46
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