Scoop Jackson

Today, two weeks from my first wedding anniversary and more than six years after we first got together, this man of mine never ceases to amaze me. I love his humor and the way he does things. I love how he constantly wants to take care of me, lightens the mood and how he has this incredible way of putting me in my place.

You see, I tend to think of myself as a fairly intelligent person. Now, David doesn't make me feel stupid, but when I have those moments where I'm totally and absolutely not using my brain (it actually happens to me a lot for how intelligent I think I am), he brings me back to earth.

For example, last night as I was writing my first entry for this little saga, I yelled to David, "Hey - name a famous sports writer."

"Me."

"Um, someone more famous than that."

I proceeded to Google "famous sports writers" and Google did not dissappoint. I was able to find a nice little list of sports writers. Again, I called out my redheaded man.

"Hey. Come in here and look at this list. Pick a name out."

"Why?"

"Just do it!" Yes, I was getting exhasperated. Sometimes I swear that boy likes to push my buttons just because he knows where they are and how hard to push.

"Ummmm. Ok. Well, Woody Paige is pretty well-known. So is Bill Plaschke and Scoop Jackson."

Scoop Jackson. I liked that one. It's a fun name - and if he's well-known, then I can make the connection easily that David is a sports writer. Great.

I went on with my writing and finished my entry for the evening. After I got done, David took his place at the computer and read my post (because I told him I had this fun idea for the blog, but wouldn't tell him what it was). Then, later that night after crawling into bed, I rolled over and said, "Hey, Scoop - love you."

To which David replied, "Yeah, why did you pick that one?"

"Because that's one of the names you listed off...." Duh.

"Yeah, but he's a big black guy."

Now, don't mistake that last comment for some kind of racial remark or put-down. This comment really stems more from the fact that my 130-pound, redheaded and white-as-a-ghost husband looks nothing like said Scoop Jackson.

Here I come - back to earth. My intelligence officially plumeting back to the planet with me. Ouch. Oh well - I still like the reference.

Anyway, Scoop and I grew up in the same town, and while we didn't attend the same grade schools, we did attend the same junior high and high school because all of the area grade schools dumped all of the kids together once we got to junior high.

My first real memories of David come from our junior high chorus class. Okay, okay - pick yourself up off the floor and stop laughing. Yes, we were both in chorus. In junior high, elective choices were extremely limited: shop, home economics, band and chorus.

I had no desire to build bird houses and tool boxes, and my mom used to teach high school home economics, and wouldn't let me take the junior high home economics under any circumstances. Since I couldn't read music, chorus was my last option. I'm not sure why David chose chorus...

Of course, the big move from grade school to junior high gave grandparents and parents automatic license to ask all kinds of probing questions about your classes and your friends.

"Chorus, huh? Who is in your class?"

I was obligated to list name after name after name. Then, I stumbled on to David's name.

"Oh, that little Torbert boy? How is he now? Is he feeling better? He was awfully sick, wasn't he? Can you tell that he was in the hospital? Is he nice? He's not still having problems, is he?"

I had no idea what they were talking about. We didn't go to the same grade school, so all I knew was there was a 90-pound, redheaded boy with a bowl hair cut in my class and he had a big scar on his neck. And, he had a Chicago Bulls t-shirt for every day of the week.

At that point in time, I wasn't remotely interested in boys - and I certainly wasn't interested in one that I outweighed by 50 pounds. Besides, as a big, tall girl (and, when I say tall, I mean I played middle blocker on my junior high volleyball team because I was the only one that didn't have to jump to make my hands clear the top of the net and I was taller than all of the boys in my class - or three classes, really) who wore cowboy boots and horse t-shirts to school, I didn't have many options anyway.

Funny how things change, isn't it?