Us, Part One

I met Peter at band camp in August of 1994. We had just moved to Rexburg…we’d come early so I could be there in time to go; it was a requirement of the marching band. The first time I saw him, he and Ryan N. were walking to the practice field, and Ryan was holding drumsticks. They looked approachable, so I asked if they were drummers. Nope! Trumpet players, unfortunately for me (I was in the percussion section, playing mallets on the sideline). I ate lunch with a group of kids that included PDaniel and Wendy A. that day, and PDan told this joke: “What did one blade of grass say to the other blade of grass? Hey, we’re not the only ones—there are lots of us!” And Wendy thought it was hilarious and I didn’t get it at all. It was just part of “Rexburg humor,” which didn’t make any sense, and which I didn’t really understand until later. What would I have thought if someone had whispered in my ear, “there’s the boy you’ll marry”?

PDan remembers that he saw me for the first time standing on the curb being dropped off for band camp. He remembers what I was wearing: white shorts (too short for Rexburg, a fact I was oblivious to), and the James Madison T-shirt Mat Dragoo had sent me from college before his accident. PDan remembers what I was wearing on almost every occasion. I sure picked a good guy, though he puts me to shame—I don’t remember what he was wearing even this morning! Wait, no, I do. But I don't always!