The Date

Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.

~Maya Angelou

Our mother was the one who taught us the technique. Cut a hard-boiled egg in two, salt it, eat only the white part, and then somersault into bed and sleep with your head at the foot of the bed. “Do that,” she told us, “and you’ll dream about the man you’re going to marry.”

The first time I tried the technique, I was twelve years old, and a stranger did show up in my dreams that night.

A long, dark car pulled up in front of the house, and a man stepped out of the driver’s side and approached me. He didn’t say anything — he just stood there gazing at me, which enabled me to get a good, long look at him. He had black hair cut neatly above the ears, and a handsome face with sharp, angular features. I could tell he was an intelligent man; I could see it in his eyes.

I don’t remember how the dream ended, but I know that the stranger and I never spoke to each other. He probably just got back into the car and drove off. But even though I’d forgotten the ending, my mind never let go of the central part of the dream. I’d replay it in my thoughts every now and then. The car. The black-haired stranger. That face. Those intelligent eyes.

One winter day, some five years later, my good friend Jean called me to ask a favor. “Jane, I need you to go on a double date with Ralph and me.”

I’d never been on a double date before. And this would be a blind double date. I asked Jean for more details.

“Ralph’s buddy from the Navy is in town,” she informed me. “He’s nice. His name is Joe. I think you’ll like him.”

“And what if I don’t?” I asked.

“If you don’t like him, we’ll all say goodbye at the end of the night and go our separate ways. Come on, Jane. It’s just one date.”

I agreed to do my friend a favor and go on the double date. That evening, after getting myself ready, I sat in the living room and waited for the three of them to come and pick me up.

Seven o’clock came and went, and my friends didn’t show up. At 7:30, I called Jean’s house. When I learned she wasn’t home, I figured she’d be arriving with the guys any moment.

Eight o’clock came and went, and still there was no sign of my friend.

By 9 p.m., I was beginning to get agitated. Of course, I worried that maybe something had happened to them, but only for a few fleeting minutes. Somehow, I knew that they hadn’t gotten into an accident, and nothing bad had happened to them. They were simply being irresponsible and had lost track of time.

By 9:30, I’d decided that I definitely was not going on a date that evening. It was too late for me to leave the house. I was only seventeen, and my mother would worry about me if I went out after 9:30, accompanied by a stranger no less! I sat there in the living room and fumed. How could my friend be so rude?

It was just before ten when a knock came at the front door.

I marched to the door, prepared to tell Jean and the guys that they’d have to do their double date minus one. I wasn’t leaving the house this late, and if they had any sense, they’d have known better than to show up now!

But when I opened the door, my attitude immediately softened. Jean and Ralph were there on the front porch, but I didn’t pay any attention to them. Standing right in front of me was a stranger… a stranger I had encountered five years earlier. Same black hair. Same handsome, angular face. Same intelligent eyes. How could I ever forget those eyes?

“I’m Joe,” he said, smiling as he shuffled forward. “Nice to meet you.”

He put his hand out and waited for me to shake it. But instead of shaking his hand, I pointed at him and said in a voice brimming with certainty, “You’re the man I’m going to marry.”

“I am?” Joe replied, visibly taken aback by my bold remark.

I held his gaze as I allowed the moment to settle in. Then I glanced over at Jean. “Let me get my coat.”

Joe and I had a wonderful time that evening. In the weeks that followed, we shared many other wonderful days and evenings together. That double date was in December. By March, less than four months later, Joe and I were married.

My sweetheart passed away a number of years ago, but prior to his passing, Joe and I enjoyed forty-four years of wedded bliss. We built a life together — and a legacy. Five children. Ten grandchildren. And now so many greats and great-greats, I practically need a spreadsheet to keep track of them.

Sometimes, at family gatherings, I look around the room at my children, my grandchildren, my greats and great-greats, and I think about that December night in 1950. One thing I know for sure: I wouldn’t have accompanied Joe on that date if he hadn’t appeared in my dream some years earlier. I would have gone to bed and missed out on sharing a life with the black-haired Navy man.

If I hadn’t experienced that dream, it’s often occurred to me, none of these beautiful people around me would exist. None of them would have been born. There would perhaps be other people in my life, other children and grandchildren, but not these specific people — the wonderful, talented individuals I’ve come to think of as the jewels in my crown.

It’s amazing what a dream can lead to if you listen to it and act on it. You can build a life on one dream, as I did. If you’re fortunate — as I was — you might even create a legacy that lasts for generations to come.

— Jane Clark —