In the spring of 1989 I climbed in my car and made the trip alone to Grace, Idaho. I had made an appointment to meet with Ann’s parents to discuss my intention to marry their daughter.
Much to my chagrin, they asked me to dinner. I would have preferred a quick in-and-out kind of thing.
It seemed like all through dinner we talked about everything BUT a possible marriage to Ann. Who knew that we could spend so long talking about nothing?
At the time I really didn’t like to eat ice cream because it was so cold and made my teeth hurt. We laugh about it now, but you can imagine my discomfort when Ann’s dad came out with a bowl filled with what had to be a quart of ice cream.
I waited for him to divide it up between the three of us, only to be horrified to see him return with two identical bowls, each filled with the same amount.
The huge bowl was my responsibility to make disappear.
This was going to be worse than I thought.