Roll Tide (?)

My husband Ben and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary last June. Thank you, thank you. Yes, it’s quite an accomplishment. Really. No, I don’t think you understand.  I don’t understand. I have no idea how or why it could’ve lasted this long, "but for the Grace of God" -- and, most likely, sheer stubbornness on both our parts.

People (and I mean his relatives) “jokingly” say they wonder how I have put up with him all these years. Only God knows, because I sure don't.

Skipping the details of how it could possibly have happened, at the young age of 20, I fell in love with a U.S. Air Force airman who had grown up far south of the Mason-Dixon Line. Rural Alabama. No, wait. "Rural" doesn't do it justice. "Back woods" is the closest I can come and still keep it clean.

The first time I visited Ben's hometown, we left Augusta, Kansas, (my hometown) and eventually crossed into Alabama on U.S. Highway 78, headed for the I-20 interchange in Birmingham. About 15 hours into the journey, we exited I-20 somewhere in Cleburne County. From that point on, every turn we made was onto a narrower, less modernly-paved road, until there was no pavement and, finally, we were headed up a steep incline on a [searching for word] trail (?) barely wide enough for a car, through the woods toward the top of the "mountain" where Ben had spent the better part of his childhood.

Before this trip, I never had been heavily engaged with the sport of football. Sure, my brother played in junior high and high school, and the high school stadium was, in general, "the place to be" for socializing all those years. And, sure, I had my share of crushes on classmates who played. But that's about it. I didn't know much at all about the game--certainly had no idea how embedded it would become in my life (like it or not). Of course, I knew Ben was a big fan of Alabama football, since "he wore it on his sleeve" -- figuratively if not literally -- at all times.

Having met the immediate family upon arrival at the homestead at the top of the "mountain" (By the way, they call him Junior or J.R. -- to this day.), I was faced with the next gauntlet when we went to see Aunt Esther & Uncle Bill. I say "gauntlet" because, come to find out, it wasn't just the two of them. Everybody was there. Other aunts & uncles, cousins, friends, neighbors -- I don't know. Maybe there were only seven or eight people, but it seemed like a bunch to me.

Their first question (really their only question) for me? “You fer Alabama ‘r Auburn?”

Now, one would think the wrong answer would be “Auburn.” And one might be correct. However, there is a worse answer, and it’s the one I gave: “I really don’t care one way or the other.”

The room went silent. Crickets chirped. Squirrels dropped their nuts. The men grabbed theirs. Women gasped and held their breath. Jaws dropped to the ground. Appalled facial expressions were exchanged throughout the room. Ben breathlessly dug me out with, "Well, if you had to pick you'd pick Alabama, right?" And, having read the room myself: "Of course!" I stammered, "Er, um, Roll Tide?"

And thus began my acceptance (most likely probational in their minds) into the extended family.

I am convinced that the only thing that saved me was that I wasn’t some "fer-ner" from overseas, where Junior was headed for a year-long remote tour for the Air Force (the reason for our trip "home"). Even though we were together and “promised” to each other before he left, they were gravely concerned that J.R. might bring one of ‘em home.
__________________

This blog is a brand new endeavor for me. Comments below are appreciated. Also please follow me on Twitter @JustAsWellLaugh for daily thoughts and future blog posts.