I have to start today's story with a bit of philosophizing. Why do we tell our stories? Of course we tell our stories to be an example to the younger generations. But then we soon realize that we are not being honest because we all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. So then we start telling the bad stories. But then we are not telling stories to be an example. We are telling them to be an example of the wrong way to do things and we hope the next generations know the difference. The third category is the ugly stories. Those are the stories that are so embarrassing that we don't even tell them to ourselves that is, to even remember them except on dark nights when the accuser of the brethren is about.
But who decides under which of the categories the story falls? It is the listener who fits the story into his own personal relationship with God. That is not to say there isn't a clear Christian ethic that affects our behavior. That is the standard by which we judge.
I have told you one of my ugliest stories about the demise of the kitty with no toes and my daughters almost kicked me out of their houses. And their daughters raised their eyebrows at their grandpa.
Now when I tell you the subject of today's story you're going to think I'm not serious about any of the above. I want to tell you about my first kiss. It happened at Burr Ridge campground. I know that my children have set a standard for my grandchildren that it's not proper in a Christian way to kiss before the engagement. I couldn't be prouder and totally agree with such a standard. I have already told you all that I did kiss your grandmother before we were engaged. But my first kiss was a girl named Janice. We had all piled into Neil's 49 Ford. I had on my cool blue deck pants and shirt that matched. We went hiking and sightseeing for the afternoon over at Wildcat State Park which was just a little ways away. On the way back we turned at that magical corner which opened up the whole Burr Ridge campground to our sight and that's when it happened right exactly beside the pump house. Now what do I say, "it happened"or should I say "I did it?" I don't know. I guess it's a matter of how culpable I want to feel. I wish I hadn't mainly because I have wondered since if that experience for her was just another experience in a wrong direction. I only saw her once more after camp. It was the next winter and we had a basketball game with Wisconsin Rapids at their gymnasium. I met her for a few minutes just before the game started. We had to be careful because she couldn't and I couldn't consort with the enemy as it were.
This next story about a romance was probably one that was good for me. At camp I had "fallen in love" with the evangelist's daughter. You see, getting together at camp was not a hard thing to do. All you had to do was ask the girl if you could sit together in chapel or in class. That was about the only date possible. It was the asking that was impossible, at least for me. I swooned around for the whole week and finally got up the guts to ask her the last day. She told me that her father was going up to a camp in Minnesota for the next week to be the evangelist. I knew of the camp because my brother's fiancé's family went there. In fact her brother John was attending the next week at the actual camp where this evangelist would be preaching. That was my ploy. I begged my parents to go up to that camp because John would be there, not to mention.... I arrived the first day of camp and stood on tiptoes at the back of the chapel looking for the girl of my interest. I figured I had already broken the water so this would be easy. There she sat. Beside John my sister-in-law's brother. And after the service I definitely noticed that they were "together." There was no fixing it. I couldn't cause family rift. I hid for the rest of the week mostly on the basketball court. He wasn't a sportsy kind of guy so I could avoid them both. So much for getting to know John. Worst week of my life up to that point.
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