Patricia Turner Sterling
She walked down the aisle toward the altar where communion services were being held. From my vantage point up in the choir loft, she drew my eye immediately. She was graceful, poised, lithe and very attractive. “Who is that girl” I wondered. She looked familiar, but I did not instantly recognize her. Then, it began to dawn on me — I think maybe she is that neighbor girl — the younger sister of the twin boys, Jim and John, who lived maybe a mile from our home. But now, she is all grown up! Patricia! Yes, her name was Patricia. Then, I began to remember that she was a sophomore in Edinburg High School when I was a Senior. And yes, I had even dated her best friend Vicki a few times before I went into the Marine Corps.
After the service, I hastened out through the front door of Edinburg Methodist Church where members of the congregation often linger to chat with their neighbors. And there she was, with her ready smile and friendly demeanor. I guess she recognized me too, so it was relatively easy to overcome my innate shyness and renew our acquaintance.
I had recently returned home from three years in the Marine Corps — where my mildly civil behavior had been transformed into a mostly, uncivilized “killing machine.” But, now I was already enrolled in Pan American College, so I had begun to accrue a few rusty, social skills and return to civilization. We exchanged pleasantries, and I assumed that since she was in church alone, that she was not married, engaged or something. She was friendly and conversation was not strained. Before we parted, she kindly accepted my invitation to get to know each other better.
From some source, I had been convinced that girls will end up looking much like their mothers. I had some aversion to a very heavy woman as a life-mate. So in my evaluation of Pat, I remembered that her mother was not heavy and so she fit the “not likely to end up overly fat” criterion of a suitable mate. Exactly what she thought of me, I could not know — but at least she was not repulsed. “That’s always a good sign,” I thought.
Anyway, we dated for a year or so, and the more I watched, the more I was impressed. She exhibited an almost inordinate sense of fairness. It was especially exhibited in situations where it was her decision concerning the dispensation of some valued item between two or more people — especially her own children. She often used the “you cut and somebody else can choose” between the cut items — like cake, fudge and such. This approach has continued to carry over for the last 54 years. Sometimes, I find a small, 1/2 bite of some goody on a plate in the refrigerator. It was some morsel that was cut in half, I ate my half, but Pat calculated that she really got more than 1/2 so she cuts her piece in half again, eats her half and leaves the other half for me. As a consequence, I often get more than my share and Pat can feel good for being “fair.”
One of her most endearing qualities, was her smile — always an honest, sincere, open smile that crinkles the skin by her eyes and shows her attractive, white teeth. I never felt that her smile concealed some hidden motive. Maybe that’s because she is such an incredibly honest person — virtually lacking in subterfuge. She also had a healthy sense of humor.
Another essential quality that Pat exhibited was her voice. Even though I have suffered from some hearing impairment from an early age, I could usually hear and understand her voice. It was not shrill or strident — it was mellow, smooth and at a relatively low pitch. She enunciated clearly and usually knew the correct pronunciation of words. Thanks to this voice, my tremors damaged nerves have been subject to much less strain over the years. Her laughter was almost musical.
I have always enjoyed watching Pat walk — and I still do. Even from a distance, I can recognize her graceful, sensual gait. Maybe it was as a twirler in the Edinburg High School Sergeanettes that she learned about good posture and body carriage. Whatever the cause, it also carries over into a naturally appearing ability to pose which also makes her so photogenic. Bad photos of Pat are usually my fault since I am the usual photographer. Maybe she could have become world famous model.
Probably influenced by our kids — who all ran track and cross-country in school — Pat also became a runner. She ran in lots of 5 and 10K races and had a large collection of trophies to show for her success. She certainly enjoyed running and was a natural runner. She tells stories about racing some of her male classmates across the playground — and often winning.
Pat, Win, Ellen, Brian and Jimmy at Kyle Field |
She is also neat. She is so careful with her clothes that they last for years and years. She recently showed me a photo in which she wore a dress about 20 years ago, that she still wears today — and, it still looks good on her.
Pat reads directions, instructions, and details. In this sense, she is a specialist — whereas I am more of a generalist. Where the assembly of some apparatus is necessary, I usually first try to figure it out instead of reading the instructions. Very often, I save time by not reading the instructions while successfully assembling some contraption. But, of course, sometimes at near the end of such an operation, I realize that I missed some critical step and find it necessary to disassemble the whole thing and start over. And Pat sometimes said: “Why didn’t you read the instructions?” We function in a similar manner when it comes to various kinds of paperwork. I skim and work rapidly while Pat reads carefully and proceeds at a slower pace. But generally, by working together, we form a complementary team that continues to function very well.
And, what can I say about our kids, their mates, and their kids? Well, at least none of them are murderers. OK, OK, they are all a serious source of embarrassment — because they are all so nearly perfect that when I describe them, it sounds like I am just bragging. But, of course, we are incredibly proud of our kids, their mates, and grandkids. Pat deserves most of the credit for the successes of our children. While I was off lecturing in Nanjing or Cairo, Pat was home and the kids could always depend on her love, support, and education. She was always there for them when they needed a ride to band practice, to cheer them on in various sports events or to help them with homework.
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Our Kids and Grandkids |
Now, here it is, our 54th wedding anniversary. What a ride it has been! As I had predicted, Pat did not grow fat and slothful. She still exhibits the body of a slightly worn 16-year-old. At our current ages of 76 and 78, we remain physically active. Pat still walks daily at a rapid pace — when weather allows — cleans house, cooks, washes and we work together piling and burning dead trees, limbs and shrubs.
I am sometimes amazed to find all those neatly folded shorts and shirts in my drawers — that appear almost like magic. We also still explore the USA and Canada in our small, diesel motorhome. We also both agree that we spend far too much time on Facebook and email. Oh well!
One rather amazing feature of Pat’s life is that she has never had a single tooth cavity — whereas I could maybe buy a new Mercedes Bentz with all the money I’ve spent in the Dentist office. Pat takes really, really good care of her teeth and it shows.
Of all the decisions I have made, certainly, the decision to invite Pat into my life was the best. I have been an incredibly lucky man to have found this special person. I just hope that she can continue to put up with an old man that can sometimes be a little cranky.
The word “love” has a very special place in my vocabulary. I try not to use it as a replacement for the word “like” or “appreciate” or “respect.” I do not “love” trees, nature, flowers, the human species, or my enemies. I have great respect and affection for nature, but I reserve the word “love” for the relationship I have with my wife, Pat, and a few other folks who have earned the appellation.
So, Pat, when I tell you “I love you,” you can take it to the bank. It is not a cheap, meaningless, word that I casually toss about. You have been my rock and I love you — as I have loved you for the last 54 years!
Many thanks for taking the ride with me. We have shared both joy and sorrow. I remember mostly the joy.
Happy Anniversary!