I was 27 years old and a Navy veteran. I had a college degree in my pocket and planned to be a forest ranger. But I was working as a maritime cargo officer in the Merchant Marine because it paid twice as much. During time off from the Merchant Marine, I took a contract with Washington state to replant fir trees after land had been logged in the Columbia River Gorge.
I was working a crew of a dozen planters. One day, a young lady named Trudy applied for a job but then decided against planting trees. I fell in love with her at first sight. I asked her for a date, only to be turned down.
Being an older man, I knew what I was looking for. The forest ranger thing faded after some experience working in the field, but this girl was stuck in my mind and heart. Not only did she have a college degree but also had recently returned from overseas as a Baptist missionary. She was beautiful, bright and funny. Also, she was left-handed. So am I. To right-handers, this might mean very little, but left-handers think and behave differently. Right-handed girls bored me.
I fell head over heels for Trudy. Instead of returning to sea and being gone for months, I went back to college to tack a teacher’s license onto my career, to live in Vancouver, my hometown, and to win Trudy’s hand. I called her every six months, asking for a date. Finally, after three years, she granted me the privilege.
