I came back from Vietnam in mid-December 1968. A few days later my brother was driving me somewhere and in passing said the friend of a girl he was dating wanted to meet me. I asked what she was like and he said she was really pretty, but a little quirky. I asked what he meant and he said I would just have to see for myself, that it was hard to describe. I got an number, called and we set a time and place - where she was staying. She had had a falling out with her dad and was staying in an apartment of a family friend, in a small house on the back of a large property in downtown Bakersfield. I parked in the alley and she was out the door before I reached it.  She was medium height, a little pudgy, beautiful auburn hair, great smile, and in the ugliest jumpsuit I had ever seen; it was one piece, bellbottoms, sleeveless, with large alternating black and white stripes. She just started right in talking 100 mph, as if we were old friends. After a few minutes the phone rang; it was the owner asking if she had a boy in there. So she went into the bathroom and came out in jeans and a blouse and we drove over to Valley Plaza. We talked about everything and laughed a lot, and decided to keep seeing each other. One evening we were at a friend of her's watching TV and they had to step out for a while, so while laying on the floor watching the program I figured this was a setup so i got a little frisky; she pushed me back and said, "That's a Bozo no-no" and it remained that way until our wedding; she was saving herself for marriage and had apparently fought off a bunch of boys. I believe I saw her every day of my leave and I went to my duty station in San Bernardino on the 30th, but at least we had Christmas together and exchanged forgettable inexpensive gifts and she came to my large family Christmas meal and everybody got to meet her. 

I had saved enough money for a new car and ordered a '69 Nova SS; it took a couple of weeks to arrive, so we only talked on the phone. Money was always tight! But I'd drive up as often as I could. The lady said she couldn't stay there any longer, she didn't want to move back to her parents, so we moved her clothes down to an aunt and uncle's house in Pasadena. This was a shorter drive for me and we were seeing each other much more often. A couple of times on the weekend we would go to a party at friend's places and stayed the night, but Bozo had become our agreement - no phyical contact beyond kissing. Her aunt and uncle said she had been there long enough and she had to leave; her parents had moved to Arkansas and I didn't want to lose her because they had patched things up. So in the livingroom in front of witnesses i got down on one knee, took her hand in mine, and asked her to marry me. She said Yes, and they said she could stay a little longer. I don't remember how she got the wedding dress, but it was beautiful; we bought cheap rings, checked a few churches but decided to have a pastor do it in my parent's living room. July 11th we got married (the other story here) and the aunt and uncle and her parents weren't there. I heard my dad and an uncle made a bet that the marriage wouldn't last six months, so I guess the bickering had already set in, but it was just part of being around Nancy; and I never tried to find out which one bet against us.  It lasted until late May, 1980; friends told me they liked us a lot but were glad it we over because we picked at each other all the time - which surprised me. 

I'm sure some of you will be glad to see Nancy had a normal, polite courtship, that a deep love grew quickly, that she had a traditional proposal and old fashioned wedding. And that night at the Bakersfield Inn we kicked Bozo out of the room. 

Well, it was last minute. Mary Ann, Miss Fancy Nancy & CoCo. Mary & Nace loaded  up the Hummer, then over to pack me in. So, on our way to San Diego beach house, friend of Mary's. Turned the tunes on, 70's & 80's music of course. Everyone singing, laughing, flirting ... on the freeway -toot toot, wave, fist pumps, we were girls 'back in time' and loving every minute!

Beach house was great, walking distance to everything. One afternoon, we all spilt & would meet back. Mary & CoCo are back, where's Nance? Where is she CoCo said? 

Mary said, she found her people, & she is sitting w/them having a drink. I said, she has people down here? Sure, let's go meet them. 

There she was, at a large table w/her new friends. Laughing, and making memories. So we joined in. 

She wrapped up like a mummy for the beach , we laughed and 'oiled' up our 60+ bodies. Wrinkles, fat, dimples & all :)  after all , we were 'back in time' we looked good- just a little older, g-ma's in fact. 

A memory, turned into a treasure*** see you at the beach friend*

We got married after knowing each other about six months (will save the courtship for another story).  I was still in the Air Force and we didn't have any extra money so I wore my dress blue uniform, she was in a wedding gown (if anyone has a picture to post please do, I was skinny and she was beautiful).  We moved the TV and got married in my parent's living room.  Then everything moved into the back yard; lots of champagne.  In pretty short order we were both pretty drunk.  My mom has an old 8mm of the 'reception.'  My brother got really drunk and made this exceptional 180-degree turn on a champagne bottle; Charlie Chaplin would have been jealous.  Nancy danced like a fairy princess, and i danced like a clod.  We took of to begin our honeymoon and were too drunk to make it to the coast so decided to stop at the Bakersfield Inn.  I was driving down Niles street in our new 1969 Nova SS and looked up in the mirror just past Williams School (where I went K-4, and my mom had gone there before me) where it went into three lanes in one direction  (West) and there was a Highway Patrol car right behind me. I looked down at the spedometer and was doing 70 - in a 35!  I lifted from the throttle, told her to sit up straight and he swung out, pulled up beside us and I tried so hard to look "straight" and he rolled down his electric window and yelled out where were we going.  I said the Bakersfield Inn, he motioned with his hand to follow him and i thought he was going to pull us over; but he pulled in front of me - at 35mph - and we had a police escort to the entrance of the Bakersfield Inn.  He drove through and turned around in the parking lot and I stopped in front of the office and as I was getting out of the car he pulled up beside us and warned me stearnly not to drive anywhere else tonight.  Nancy leaned over across my seat, stuck her head out the window, and slurred, "Don't you worry, Officer.  We won't be going anywhere else tonight!" and gave him that wry smile of hers that let him know we weren't going anywhere else that night; and, we didn't.  The rest of the story is private; it was the first time for both of us.
*as a note:  about four weeks later we were up from the base I was stationed at in San Bernardino and my mom asked if we had stayed at the Bakersfield Inn.  I said "yes" and asked "why?".  She said she got a card the other day from the Bakersfield Inn thanking "Mr. and Mrs. L. E. Wynn" for staying at their hotel.  My initials are D.L., L.E. is my dad; I had written letters home for years using Mr. and Mrs. L. E. Wynn and, did I mention we had been drinking?, I guess I was so drunk I wrote their name by habit rather than David and Nancy.  My mom smiled, winked, and said, "Just checking."
**the next morning, before driving off for the coast, we drove back to my parent's house for breakfast.  Roy Davis (and some of you might remember Richard Leroy Davis, probably one of the greatest atheletes in Bakersfield, and an outstanding open league softball player, and an expert plaster slatherer) stepped out his door across the street as we were walking up the sidewalk to my parent's house, and yelled loud, you'd have to know Roy, "What was it like getting some with your shoes off?"  Nancy covered my mouth, gave him a cute smile and shook her hips, and said, "None of your business, Mr. Smarty Pants" and we both laughed hilariously all the way into the house. 

In our 20s Nancy was on a softball team with a couple of her friends from school; Mary played first base and her husband Rick (played for the Yankees) was the coach.  Nancy wasn't the best player on the team but always attacked it, like everything, with confidence and enthusiasm; and he didn't have to worry about Rick ragging on her if she blew something, because he was always ragging on Mary. Once there was a high pop-up and Nancy came running in from left field, caught it, slowed to a stop near the shortstop on the infield, paused, looked down - and you could see her count, 1...2...3! - then she slammed the balll on the ground so hard it bounced about 30 feet in the air, yelled "YES!", threw her arm around the shortstop and the both sort of hop-skipped all the way to the dugout yelping.  I am certain anyone reading this who knew her is smiling, you can see it in your mind's eye.  That was our Nancy at her best!