I had spied him waiting outside the auditorium where the large section of American history lecture met, twice a week, in the fall of 1973.
He was tall, had long blonde hair, and a really sexy sway in his walk. He sat on the other side of the huge auditorium, where students were allowed to smoke. The desks even had little ashtrays. Like I said, this was a few years back. I sat close to the staage because I was one of those 100% type students then.
In the spring of '74, in February, my father passed of lung cancer. He went quickly. Diagnosed in November; dead in Feb. All emotions aside, I was a college student, living at home, and ready to push some limits I wouldn't have, had my father still been alive.
I did what young people do when they're young and in love. We had sex.
He took awhile to talk me into it, but I was on the pill anyhow. Sexual diseases weren't so prevelent then. Neither were nineteen year old virgins, as far as I knew. He busted my cherry in the backseat of his Chrysler.
But I get ahead of myself.
Driving from home to school generally took about 45 minutes on a regular day. To pick up my yellow umbrella, if it were still on the eighth floor of the Social Sciences Tower, would mean planning to get up even earlier. I hate to get up early.
But I did. I parked closer to the buildings than usual, because I arrived at campus early. I'm just one of those last minute persons, usually. You change your fate when you change your habits.