Rick Watson
It was in October of 1966 when I first saw her sitting near the stage of the Sumiton Middle School. She was in an antique dress and bonnet playing gospel songs on a pump organ that looked as if it came over on the Mayflower.
Her teacher was a history buff and persuaded her to play for the fall history fair. She was thin as a reed and sat straight on the organ bench pumping the air pedals with all the strength her small frame could muster. Her cousin introduced us. Her name was Jilda. We talked after her set, and I could tell there was something special about her.
Jilda and I met again two years later during my senior year. She was a friend of the girl I’d been dating.
My girlfriend decided we needed to break up. She had a lot on her plate, and maybe she thought things were getting too serious.
The bottom line, I was dateless, and graduation was only days away. Because I didn’t want to go alone, I called Jilda and asked if she’d like to be my date. She said she would like that. I smiled when I hung up the phone. That was our first date.
The dates continued. I let her wear my class ring on a chain around her neck.
The following year, I was her date at her junior prom. I wasn’t much of a dancer, but who goes to the prom to dance?
A few years later, I got the letter that all young men dread. That was in 1971. It was from Uncle Sam. My draft lottery number came up. I had to report for duty in April. Vietnam was raging, and she had college before her.
We decided it might be a good idea to put things on hold. The future was uncertain. She said if it’s meant to be, it will work out. Even as we “broke up,” I knew she was special.
After my stint at a post in the Panama Canal Zone, I wasn’t sure what I would do. My old friend Dale Short offered me an internship at The Community News. The VA supplemented my pay for two years while I learned the ropes. I wasn’t much of a writer, and my picture-taking skills weren’t much better, but Dale had patience, and I got better.
Jilda had introduced me to Dale before I left for the Army. One day during lunch, as we talked, he said, “There’s something special about Jilda.” That night I gave her a call. A few days later, we went out and talked late into the night. It took some time, but we got back together. Her oldest sister, Nell, had told her when we broke up that it was only temporary. “He’s the one for you,” Nell advised. She laughed as she told me what her sister had said.
Before long, we were dating solid again. I took her candy and flowers on Valentine’s Day. Then on Cinco de Mayo of that year, we drove to the home of a preacher friend in Brewton, Alabama. We got married on the porch of his house trailer as curious neighbors watched from a distance.
The preacher pulled me aside and said, “You should know that girl is special.” I nodded my head in agreement.
It turns out the preacher was right. There is something special about her.
I hope you all had a great Valentine’s Day with someone special.
Rick Watson is a columnist and author. His latest book, “Life Goes On,” is available on amazon.com. Email him at rick@rick watson-writer.com.
