How I Met Your Mimi

 

Hey everybody!  I just wanted to let ya’ll know that I wrote this blog specifically for my grandchildren. Ya’ll feel free to read along too. My guess is a many of you have a story that’s a lot like this one.  

Dear Kids, 

I think you know by now that these stories I write are so you will have a better idea of who your granddaddy was after I no longer walk on this earth.  My hope is that one day (hopefully, far in the future) you’ll read them, laugh, and recall me fondly.  And I’ll bet the story that I’ve written here is one  you’ve never heard before.  But it’s quite important to all of you because if it didn’t happen you wouldn’t be here. So think about that as you read on:

You may have noticed that on some summer nights, a lot of old people will show up in a parking lot driving old cars that look brand new ones.  They’ll park, pop their hoods, set out lawn chairs, turn on oldie goldie music, and socialize.  It’s called a cruise-in. 

Of course any senior citizen will tell you this is a  throwback to the real old days when every town had a drive-in that was a magnet for cars and kids. We had them here.  Places where waitresses actually delivered  food to you on trays attached to your window. Places where AM car radios blared the latest top 40 hits because FM or Sirius didn’t exist back then.  And there were cars - so many cars.  Many of them were parked in neat rows, but there was also an endless stream that circled the  parking lot. There were fast cars, new cars, parent’s cars, shiny cars, and clunkers. All colors, shapes, and models were part of the procession. It was truly Americana. 

In some ways, it was nothing more than a glorified mating ritual. This was a way for boys and girls to meet; a place to socialize. And that is exactly what my friend Mike and I were doing on a warm summer night in 1972.  It was a time of transition for me - I had just finished my first year of college, and was recovering from being unceremoniously dumped by a girl that I really liked.  So, we headed to Shoney’s Big Boy, the current teen hotspot on the eastern side of Birmingham. Immediately upon our arrival, I staked out a premium parking place, backed in my lime-green Camaro, and placed an order over the speaker. It was always the same - french fries and a coke - not much food, but it did entitle me to hang out here for half the night. 

We had been there for about an hour when Mike spotted an old red Volkswagen with  familiar faces inside.  Once he waved, the car stopped, parked beside us, and three girls popped out of the tiny vehicle like clowns in a circus. 

The driver of the bug was Janice, a friend of Mike’s sister.  Her two fellow passengers were Sherry, and Carol. Mike knew them both. We were quick to learn that the car belonged to Carol, who was too embarrassed to drive the VW thru Shoney’s on a Saturday night.  

All of us talked for a while. Eventually, I began to gravitate towards Carol when I learned that she had nearly decided to go to Jacksonville State, but had a change of heart, and was enrolled at the University of Alabama in the fall. This gave us common ground, a very important component of a first time conversation. She asked me dozens of questions about school, ranging from dorms, to lecture classes, to football games. I asked questions as well, gleaning information about a girl that I was becoming interested in.  

Eventually the evening ended, and when Mike and I left for home I had a couple of questions to ask him: 1) was Carol seeing anybody, and 2)  would she be interested in going out with me. Even a worldly college student didn’t want to be rejected - again. A few days later, I got the green light, made the phone call, and we went on our first date.  The rest is family history. 

So, now over fifty years later, you finally know the story of how I met your Mimi. 

Love always, 

Granddaddy, aka Grinny or Day-Yea