It all started when I was standing in a registration line at the University of California at Davis in September of 1969. The girl behind me said, “Chris? Chris Crawford?” I turned around and there stood Adie Edens, the hottest girl at my high school. This girl was so hot that I never even imagined having any kind of relationship with her; she was always surrounded by salivating teenage boys. Anyway, we chatted for a few minutes; she told me which dorm she was in and mentioned that she was rooming with Nancy Chambers, another high school friend I knew.
A few days later I dropped by to visit. It was nice chatting with a few friends from old times, and I’d continue to drop by every now and then. Sometimes, nobody would be home when I knocked on their door, but the door across the hall would be open; there lived Nancy Simpson and her roommate, whose name I cannot recall. So I’d visit with Nancy Simpson, developing a strong non-romantic friendship with her.
The next year Nancy Simpson was in the same dorm, so I’d visit her sometimes. Across the hall from her lived two other girls, one of whom was Kathy Clark. I still have a romantic image of her reading a book on her bed, covered with a brightly colored throw she had knitted. Pretty soon I was coming to see Kathy Clark. We enjoyed each other’s company, and feelings began to blossom between us.
Christmas vacation separated us for two weeks, and we both spent the vacation realizing how much we missed each other. When Christmas break was over, we confessed to each other that we had fallen in love. We started spending a lot of time together. Sometimes I spent the night in her dorm room, an arrangement made possible by the fact that her roommate was spending the night with her boyfriend in his dorm room. In the morning, the girls would sneak various food items out from the cafeteria for my breakfast.
1971 was the year of our romance. We went places on my motorcycle and reveled in the glories of young love. One night in September she woke me up and said, “We have to get married.” I said, “OK”. She said, “Before the end of the year.” I said, “OK”. She said, “and not December 31st”, and I said “OK”. The next day I set the date of our wedding: December 30th.
I was uncertain. I had no reservations about marrying Kathy; I knew that she was the love of my life. I was bothered, though, by a matter of integrity: how could I honestly promise this woman that I would spend the rest of my life with her? I was only 21 years old and I would have to make a promise spanning 60 or 70 years — how could I possibly be confident of my ability to honor that promise?
The resolution of my dilemma came with the realization that I would simply have to MAKE it work: marrying Kathy would be something I would have to DO, not something I would have to BE. I could not honestly promise that I would always be in love with her, but I could promise that I would always make our relationship a happy one.
One of the reasons I have always loved Kathy is that she is her own woman. She was not going to let her mother or anybody else organize the wedding. Kathy did everything and we paid for everything out of our own funds (which were paltry). On December 30th, the friends and families gathered at the site of the wedding. Kathy entered, so beautiful in her wedding gown:
The minister was Daryl Darling. He married us and authorized me to kiss the bride:
That’s Gretchen on the left, Kathy’s best friend. We’re still friends with Gretchen and see her occasionally.
Then Daryl Darling hugged us both, much to everybody’s surprise:
He then presented us to the assembly; you can see the infinite joy on Kathy’s face:
During the reception, somebody said something that somehow did not fit into Kathy’s plans for the wedding. Kathy was not about to take it:
Kathy cut the cake and fed me a piece. That’s my mom on the right.
Then she helped distribute the cake to all the attendees. Isn’t she beautiful?
Left to right: Kathy, her sister Bonnie, Nancy Simpson, my mom, Kathy’s mom:
We opened our wedding presents, and I showed off Frogger Rogger:
Our parents gave us $800 to buy a car; we bought a 1964 Volkswagen bug and sent thank you photos to each of our parents. We lived in that green farmworkers cabin, which had no hot water and no bathroom. There was an outhouse in which lived a family of black widow spiders. But we paid no rent, which fit well into our budget.
