preface
Truth is often stranger than fiction. Maybe that’s why I like historical fiction. Even though the story line isn’t true, the background of the story is truthful and accurate. This is the case with most novel ideas that have come to me. In this case, the truth is that I developed a close relationship with a man fourteen years younger than myself. Josh had become my best friend. I warned him that I was falling in love with him, but he ignored my warning and the warnings of others until it was too late. Just over a year after we first met, Josh finally admitted that it wouldn’t be possible to marry me. He blamed the age difference, but I was angry with his mom for standing in our way. Although I knew that I should have blamed Josh, I was just sad, because he couldn’t stand up to her.
I learned so much about love with Josh. I was convinced that I had found my soulmate. I was hurt that he couldn’t see it. I am confident that this will make an excellent story, but I needed Josh’s permission to write it. Heaven forbid it should appear in print without his consent. Josh, being the understanding spirit that he is, read the story based on one of my journal entries as it appears in this multi-genre work, and gave me his blessing. It’s no wonder that I love him.
Any Man of Mine
Shania Twain
Any man of mine better be proud of me
Even when I’m ugly, he still better love me
And I can be late for a date that’s fine
But he better be on time
Any man of mine’ll say it fits just right
When last year’s dress is just a little too tight
And anything I do or say better be okay
When I have a bad hair day
Well any man of mine better disagree
When I say another woman’s lookin’ better than me
And when I cook him dinner and I burn it black
He better say, mmmm, I like it like that.
And if I change my mind
A million times
I wanna hear him say
Yeah,
yeah,
yeah,
yeah,
Yeah, I like it that way.
Any man of mine better walk the line
Better show me a teasin’ squeezin’ pleasin’ kinda time
I need a man who knows, how the story goes
He’s gotta be a heartbeatin’ fine treatin’
Breathtakin’ earthquakin’ kind
Any man of mine.
First
Impressions
I had been married.
Got divorced.
After a controlled marriage,
I had to be the one in control.
I went back to school.
Something I wasn’t allowed to do–
When I was married.
I liked my freedom.
I liked being in control.
I didn’t like men.
The absolute truth?
I could trust no man with my heart.
Summer term,
Students raved about the new math tutor–
Said his name was Josh
And he could do math in his sleep.
This man looked nothing
like the typical 21 year-old Utah boy.
He certainly looked like a math tutor, though.
“Are you tutoring, or can I sit here?”
“Please sit.”
“So Josh, how was your weekend?”
“… Marianne, just what is it that you’re after?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What are you after?”
“Um… I don’t know, Josh, what am I supposed to be after?
“My mom says that women like you are only after one thing, so what is it?”
“Maybe you should ask your mom, cuz I have no clue. Apparently you find this more amusing than I do; and how do you raise just one eyebrow at a time like that? Are you going to tell me?”
“Don’t be offended, but I really do think it’s funny. When I came home on Friday I was raving about you. When Jim came over on Saturday, I was still going on about you, and my mom finally asked, ‘So Josh, just who is this Marianne?’ So I told her about you.”
“And what exactly did you tell her?”
“Everything.”
“What did she say?”
“She didn’t say anything for a minute, and then she got mad. The next thing I knew, she was the one raving. By Sunday, my dad was trying to calm her down.”
“So she thinks I’m after something.”
“Yep. She told me I should stay away from you.”
“So what are you doing here with me, Josh?”
“You approached me, remember? Should I stay away from you?”
“I don’t know, should you? Tell your mom I’m after your body and your money.”
“I’m not staying away from you, Marianne.”
“You’re a glutton for punishment.”
“It’s all good.”
March 16, 2001
Dear Peppi,
I’m so confused. Josh knows that I’m falling for him, and he says that we’ll always be friends, but I think I want more than that. I have no clue what he wants, but everything he does points straight to eternity.
I tried to hide in a corner study room with my headphones and CDs today, but Josh found me. He walked in, closed the door, sat down next to me and raised one eyebrow. I burst into tears, and he pulled me to him. I wanted so much more than just a hug, but I didn’t do anything but lay my head on his shoulder. He let me go, and asked what was wrong. I shook my head and didn’t say anything for a minute. He just sat there with his hand on my knee and watched and waited. Josh is so patient.
I know how his mom feels about us, and it frustrates me that she gets so upset when she knows we’re together. It bugs me, because Josh and I really do spend a lot of time together, but most of the time we’re with other people, and we’ve never done anything that either one of us would ever be ashamed of. I’ve never even kissed him.
I finally told him that I was frustrated because he is going to be such an awesome husband. It hurts to know that I spent thirteen years in an abusive marriage, and now that I’m free, and have found the perfect man for me, the age difference seems insurmountable. It doesn’t matter who Josh marries, he is going to treat that woman the same way that he’s treated me and every other woman I’ve seen him interact with. I so want to be that woman, and I can’t see it happening.
Josh did nothing more than pat my knee and say, “I know.” Why can’t he just say Marianne, will you marry me? I would say yes. He says his mother’s opinion doesn’t mean anything, because she just doesn’t know me, but I know that if he wasn’t so worried about disappointing his mom, that we could get past the age difference. I know that if his mom knew me like Josh knows me, she wouldn’t be having this problem. She’s never even met me!
I left my CDs with Josh while I went to class. He likes my music, and I never mind sharing. When I came back, Josh had returned to the corner room. I walked in, and he pointed to the headphones on his ears and said “John.” He meant John Denver. I grabbed the headphones and said “Mine.” He grabbed them back and said, “Can’t you share?” I know that Josh understood I was teasing, but I was still hurting, and all I really wanted to do was sit with my CDs and feel sorry for myself. I gave up, and just sank into my seat. Josh put the headphones on my head and said, “Let’s take turns.”
I listened to a couple of songs, then passed them back. Josh loves digging through my CDs and listens to a variety of stuff. Sometimes he brings his own music and we share that too. Once he brought Michael Boulton, and I was thinking about How am I Supposed to Live Without You? It’s one of Josh’s favorites. I wanted to stick the music in, and make him listen to it, but he didn’t have it with him today. Why doesn’t he get it?
We studied, passing the headphones back and forth, for more than an hour. Maybe I should say that we tried to study, but most of the time we spent talking about music and comparing homework. Josh is taking a Shakespeare class, and he loves to tell me about it. I didn’t get much done, and now, I’ve spent the last hour writing in my journal. I hope I don’t fall behind.
I was actually relieved when he glanced at his watch and said, “Uh Oh, I’m supposed to be tutoring!” I thought I might finally get some homework done, but Josh grabbed the headphones off my head, took Shania Twain out, put the headphones back on his head, and stuck John Denver back in the CD player. He did it all so fast that I didn’t even have time to ask what are you doing? He started pushing buttons madly, then slowed down, listened for a second, took the headphones off and put them back on my head, pushed a couple more buttons and then ran out of the room.
There’s no way I could do any more homework today, anyway. When Josh left the room and the music started playing, the message came loud and clear; “Lady, are you crying, do the tears belong to me?” Obviously, Josh understands more than I think he does. Now I’m more confused and frustrated than before. Why would he want to send that message to me?
Josh knew that I had to leave during his tutoring session so I could get home to my kids. I couldn’t ask him what he meant. This is so not fair!!!
My Sweet Lady
John Denver
Lady, are you crying? Do the tears belong to me?
Did you think our time together was all gone?
Lady, you’ve been dreaming, I’m as close as I can be.
I swear to you our time has just begun.
Close your eyes and rest your weary mind.
I promise I will stay right here beside you.
Today our lives were joined, became entwined;
I wish you could know how much I love you.
Lady, are you happy, do you feel the way I do?
Are there meanings that you’ve never seen before?
Lady, my sweet lady, I just can’t believe it’s true
And it’s like I’ve never ever loved before.
Close your eyes and rest your weary mind.
I promise I will stay right here beside you.
Today our lives were joined, became entwined.
I wish you could know how much I love you.
Lady, are you crying, do the tears belong to me.
Did you think our time together was all gone.
Lady, my sweet lady, I’m as close as I can be.
I swear to you our time has just begun.
How do You Love Me?
Apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Let Me Count the Ways
- You look at me and one raise one eyebrow.
- You sing loudly and off-key in while assembling my new computer desk.
- You play with my hair from the seat behind me in our Book of Mormon class.
- You whisper John Denver lyrics in my ear as I catnap in the student union building.
- You lead me by the hand to your secret hideaway to calm my nerves after I locked my keys in the car.
- You try to hold my hand from the back seat of Sandra’s car while I ride shotgun. It’s awkward, but we make it work.
- You ask a question that only my heart can answer while gazing into my eyes and replying with your own.
- You lay your head on my shoulder until my tears slow.
- You fold my laundry as you wait for me to get ready for a Michael McLean concert.
- You bring me a miniscule piggy bank with my name printed in tiny letters from your weekend trip to California.
- You interrupt a study session to drag me down the hallway to a “found” penny for my new piggy bank.
- You present a downy duck feather to me halfway through one of our many walks around the duck pond.
- You brag to our co-workers that you can outrun my ex-husband.
- If outrunning him doesn’t work, you say you will hide under a table because he is six inches taller than you and won’t fit.
- You sit quietly next to me without saying a word.
- You nurse my injured foot on a broken-down pier while everyone else is splashing and playing in the lake.
- You throw your arms around me saying “I missed my Marianne” when I come back from a month in Europe.
- You say, “I’m right here.” in a voice so low only I can hear through the encroaching crowd.
- You eat cherries with me and spit the pits in the bushes as we discuss more serious matters.
- You lay next to me on the grass and watch the stars for 45 minutes after the post-fireworks traffic has cleared.
- You play with my children as if I weren’t even there.
- You hug a tree to show me you’re on my side because my family thinks I’m a crazy tree-hugger.
- You stay with me as I wait for the last bus of the day, then hop on your bike for a seven-mile ride into an oncoming storm.
- You call to tell me you’ve made it home safely.
When You Say Nothing at All
Ronan Keating
It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart.
Without saying a word, you can light up the dark.
Try as I may, I could never explain
What I hear when you don’t say a thing.
All day long I can hear people talking out loud,
But when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd.
Old Mr. Webster could never define
What’s being said between your heart and mine.
The smile on your face lets me know that you need me.
There’s a truth in your eyes saying you’ll never leave me.
The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me if ever I fall.
You say it best when you say nothing at all.
A Broken Pipe
It was Josh’s silence that caused so much trouble that summer. Josh was always willing, even eager, to listen to anything and everything that Marianne had to say, but when it came to revealing himself to her, he was disturbingly silent.
It took a discussion about a broken pipe in his uncle’s lawn to get Josh to open up. The pair sat at the top of a man-made waterfall on a large stone. Marianne’s children were spending the weekend with their father, so she had invited Josh to visit Utah State University with her. She had made it sound so innocent, but she desperately needed to talk.
Josh was going on about his uncle who wouldn’t fix a broken water pipe in his lawn. Marianne seized the moment, “I have a broken pipe.”
Curiosity piqued, “Is it a big pipe or a little pipe?” Josh asked.
Marianne swallowed. “It’s a big pipe.”
“That’s a real problem.” She could tell that Josh was thinking about a broken water pipe, and she continued to let him think that. She needed him to understand the enormity of her problem.
“You should get it fixed as soon as possible.” he said.
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“Is it inside or outside?”
Marianne was tempted keep the charade going and tell him that it was inside. Instead, she swallowed again, “It’s an emotional pipe.”
“Oh, I see.” Josh grew quiet. He could see where she was going with the conversation. “Do you need some help fixing it?”
“Josh,” Marianne choked, “I can’t fix it without your help.”
Another significant silence. She didn’t dare look at him; her vision was clouded by brimming tears.
“Did I break the pipe?” Josh asked.
It takes two to play in the game of love, and Marianne knew that she was not an innocent bystander, “You helped.” It still wasn’t easy to tell him, even though it was clear to both of them that he already knew the answer. She decided to get straight to the point by explaining that she needed to communicate, and he didn’t see the need. She reminded him of similar talks that they’d had in the past, and of the age difference.
“If I were fourteen years younger . . .”
“There’d be no question.”
Marianne was cut to the very core of her soul. “None whatsoever?”
“I’d marry you in a heartbeat.”
Ouch. That hurt. That was it. She had to tell him, but it was still so hard. Marianne was so sure that he already knew. “Josh, I thought that I had made my feelings for you very clear when we talked before.”
“You made them very clear.”
“Very clear?” From Josh’s recent behavior, she wasn’t sure she’d been clear enough.
“Very clear.”
“Well, I need to be sure, so I have to make them perfectly clear, okay?”
Josh smiled and sat back. “Go ahead.”
Go ahead. Just like that. She decided she was a glutton for punishment; “This is so difficult. . . “
“Marianne, just say it.”
She gulped. The tears were running down her cheeks, and she so desperately wanted to think clearly. She couldn’t. “Josh, I love you more than I have ever loved any man in my life.”
The truth of the matter was that she hadn’t even known what true love was until now. Why did it have to be this way?
Silence. Except for a few muffled hiccoughs.
“Was that perfectly clear?” She had her glasses in her hand, and she couldn’t see him through her watery eyes, but she looked at him anyway.
“Perfectly.” His reply was quiet as he wrapped an arm around her and laid his head upon her shoulder. The tears continued to flow as she laid her head on his.
“Josh, this has been the most difficult summer of my life.” It was the happiest, hardest, saddest time of her life.
“It’s because of me, isn’t it?”
“I tried to warn you…”
“But I wasn’t listening.”
“Is it possible that I was saying something you didn’t want to hear?”
“No, but it is possible that I just can’t figure out how to fast forward or reverse time.” They talked about time, eternity, and the age difference.
“Josh, you don’t see time the way I do. I don’t separate eternal time from worldly time.”
“I don’t see how you can live in this world without separating it from God’s time.”
“You think like a mathematician.” Thirty-six, minus twenty-two, equals fourteen. . .
“It’s not going to work, is it?”
“I don’t see how it can.”
Marianne was completely devastated. How was she supposed to live without him? Even though She had already learned that she could get along just fine without a man, she just didn’t want to get along without the companionship of her best friend. He wasn’t even gone but she was already missing him. For a while she just sat, snuggled in his arms until the tears slowed.
“Josh, you’re going to go on with your life. You’ll get married, be a fantastic husband, make some lucky girl incredibly happy, and I’m going to remain single for the rest of my life.”
“How can you say that? You’ll get married again.”
“Josh, you can’t really believe that.”
“What do you mean? You’re an awesome lady; someone will want to marry you.”
“That’s not the point, Josh. I could easily find a man, but I don’t want just any man, I want the right man, and it’s taken thirty-six years to find him. I don’t want to spend another thirty-six years looking.”
“Marianne, you’ll find someone.”
“Yeah, when Hell freezes over.”
“I hear they’ve been having a cold snap…”
She laughed a funny little hiccuppy laugh spawned by a breaking heart. Then sighed, and said flatly, “Josh, you just go on with your life. I’ll be right here waiting.” She placed her palm over her heart.
“Right here?” He looked down at the rock and patted it. “This isn’t the most comfortable place in the world. Where will you sleep at night? It might rain or snow. You’ll get cold. You’re gonna want an umbrella and a jacket.”
“Oh Josh, you know what I mean. “For the next few days, the tears fell freely until Marianne had to admit to herself that the emotions she was experiencing felt too similar to the pain of divorcing Bob. Because she had loved Josh so much more deeply than she had loved Bob, her immediate fear was that the deep emotional pain would last a lifetime.
It was useless; that pipe was never getting fixed.
Right Here Waiting For You
Richard Marx
Oceans apart day after day
And I slowly go insane
I hear your voice on the line
But it doesn’t stop the pain.
Wherever you go,
Whatever you do,
I will be right here waiting for you.
Whatever it takes,
Or how my heart breaks,
I will be right here waiting for you.
I took for granted, all the times
That I thought would last somehow.
I hear the laughter, I taste the tears,
But I can’t get near you now.
Wherever you go,
Whatever you do,
I will be right here waiting for you.
Whatever it takes,
Or how my heart breaks,
I will be right here waiting for you.
I wonder how we can survive
This romance.
But in the end if I’m with you,
I’ll take the chance.
Wherever you go,
Whatever you do,
I will be right here waiting for you.
Whatever it takes,
Or how my heart breaks,
I will be right here waiting for you.
Profound Loss
Josh and I were introduced by one of the students he was tutoring. In fact, I would have to say that Jenni went on and on about Josh just about the same as he would soon be going on and on about me. Like me, Jenni was a single mom, and just a year older than me. And like me, she found him to be a good friend. Unlike me, her friendship with Josh never changed. Because I was also a tutor, I knew I would soon know him as well, so I asked her to describe him to me. From Jenni’s nondescript description, I really couldn’t figure who he was. But I ran into her a few days later on her way to her appointment with Josh while I was on my way to work, so I asked her to show him to me. The poem, “First Impressions,” appears exactly how I saw him, and yes, even though it’s a stock photo, the cover photo is pretty true to my first impression of Josh.
That was Summer Term 2000, and the “What are You After?” conversation occurred at the beginning of Fall Semester after I’d set him up on a lunch date with the hottest girl in the room. We had a strong bond, and soon found ourselves doing nearly everything together during our school hours. During winter break, we even went on a double date. I was with another tutor closer to my age, and I’d fixed him up with a younger friend of mine from the bus we rode. It was a weird date because by the end of the night, Josh and I somehow ended up together deep in conversation while our dates sat awkwardly at either end of the room. It was Josh that got the goodbye hug while I don’t think my date even got a handshake.
I don’t recall when my physical attraction to him changed, but I do know it was after I found myself falling in love with him sometime in midwinter of 2001. I remember when the sudden realization hit me. Josh and I were on our way back to campus after attending an LDS temple session together. We’d already been talking about the age difference because I knew his mom flew into a rage every time my name came up or she found out we’d been spending time together. We were stopped at a traffic light, and it hit me like a punch in the gut. That was the first time the tears fell, and even though I didn’t actually say the words, it was at that moment we both realized I was falling in love with him. It was also when I began to feel the pain from the well-found fear of losing him.
That summer I spent a month in Europe immersing myself in the German language. I’m sure I was driving the students in my group a bit nuts over the fact that I couldn’t help myself from bringing him up in nearly every conversation. Either that or talking about my kids. Although we’d gone together on the same plane, a large portion of the students extended their stay to visit other countries, while I was more than happy to get home to my kids. I was homesick nearly the whole trip.
I remember quite vividly my flight over New York City on the way into Newark. It was my first time seeing the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, and the Twin Towers. I’d never in my life been that far East, let alone to Europe, so I was more than happy to have seen them up close even though it was from the air.
When I came back on campus, I was pleasantly surprised at Josh’s welcome home hug. It was the first time he’d ever called me My Marianne.
I so wanted to be his.
But there was something in the air that day, telling me it was the beginning of the end. There were two new women in the room, both with their eyes on Josh. Sandra had been hanging out with Josh while I was away, and she had set her sights on him. Yes, she’s the same Sandra driving the car while Josh held my hand from the back seat. She was none the wiser. The other, I might describe as mousy but not in a derogatory way. She was quiet and I don’t know if I’d say shy, but there was nothing more than ordinary about her. Looking back, she was the kind of woman who deserved a man like Josh.
At the end of that summer, I found myself sitting on the rock talking about a broken pipe. It was my last attempt to make him put up or shut up. He did neither. I’d say the Broken Pipe story was the day we broke up, but Josh didn’t see it like that. For me, it was that day that I knew for a certainty it was over.
Fall semester of my senior year came a week later. I found myself weeping from a broken heart whenever I was alone. But I also found myself looking for hiding places where I could study alone. It was so tough for me because Josh seemed to know where to look and I had to get more creative as time went on, and the more I needed to be left alone. I still loved being with him, but it was torture for me to feel that tiny glimmer of hope all the while knowing it was hopeless.
Just three or four weeks later, I remember crying a bit in the early morning hours while the kids were still asleep. Wiping my tears, I headed down the stairs to start my morning routine of switching the TV on to the morning news, more as background noise than anything else, while I woke the kids up for school. Dressed and nearly ready to go, I started back down the stairs to find the TV screen filled with the image of the North Tower with a gaping hole and black smoke billowing into the beautiful blue September sky. The complete irony of that day was not lost on me. It is the only day I remember where the skies were blue, and the weather was perfect from coast to coast.
My daughter seemed completely nonplussed when I pointed out the billowing tower on the screen, so I didn’t bother to bring it up to her five year-old brother. I shooed them into the car, turned the TV off, and headed out the door where my next-door neighbor informed me that the second tower had been hit. By that time, it was obvious to everyone that it was a terrorist attack. I didn’t know what to do, so I dropped the kids off at school and decided not to take the bus in that day. I wasn’t sure if I’d want to turn back around and go home. Despite those blue skies and temperate weather, a gray pall hung in the atmosphere and there was absolutely nothing normal about the traffic.
Regardless of the complete lack of accidents, road work, or emergency vehicles, traffic was going at a crawl and no one, including myself, seemed to care; we were all transfixed by the narrative replacing the music on every radio station. The first tower fell about halfway through my commute, and I suddenly found myself in a quandary: Do I go home to my children who were already at school, or do I keep going even though I was already an hour late for work? I was sure the kids didn’t care one way or another (they didn’t), so I kept going. From the parking lot, I called the tutoring center to tell them I would not come in that day, and was told that everyone was cancelling, both students and tutors, so it really didn’t matter anyway.
On campus, TVs had been brought out from everywhere, and every screen, including the theatres, displayed the same scene. Passageways, though filled with students, were eerily quiet except for the commentary from the screens. Some teachers canceled classes, but most kept their schedules in case students needed to talk. It didn’t matter whether or not I’d done my homework; it was irrelevant that day. I decided I didn’t want to be alone, so I headed to our favorite haunt– the nontraditional student center. Josh’s age and marital status may have made him a traditional student, but there was nothing traditional about him. He was there waiting for me. He took me by the hand and led me to the theater next door where we sat with my head on his shoulder crying and watching the horrific aftermath unfold. I still feel the irony of that day with the two of us snuggled in the theater like lovebirds at the movies. I cried and cried that day as I felt the double loss over and over again.
After that day, I marveled at the fact that my first time flying over New York came so close to the day when the towers fell. I wondered about other students doing study abroad who suddenly found their way home blocked by closed airways. I’m so glad it wasn’t me. I was so glad to be home with my kids when it happened, and even happier to know that I had gotten my chance to see the towers in person, even if it was from the air.
By the end of Fall Semester Josh was dating that sweet quiet girl, and I was looking even harder for better places to hide. I didn’t bother to deny the fact that I was hiding from him when he confronted me, and I was glad that to have finally found one place where he never looked in the Art building.
At the end of Spring semester, 2002, Josh and I went our separate ways. Josh married that girl the next year and they moved to Logan to finish school at Utah State. I did the graduation walk, with one incomplete class and took a two-year break while trying to focus on family issues. It was a disaster, and I fell into a deep depression. When I came back to Weber State, I completed that class, entered the teaching program, resumed work as a tutor, and tried to get used to the old familiar places without the old familiar face. I was grateful that I no longer thought of him on a daily basis, but the familiar places and faces often brought back raw hurt.
Loving Josh was sweet, beautiful, and painful. I fought that depression for another three years, but finally found my way out when I moved to Chicago for grad school and met and married Tony. Tony read this story before I married him, and said he’d love to meet Josh someday. That was when I knew I’d found a great guy. I haven’t shed any tears over Josh for more than fifteen years, except when one of those songs catches me unaware. Even then, I think I’m finally truly done with the tears.
Why They Call it Falling
Lee Ann Womack
It’s like jumpin’
It’s like leapin’
It’s like walkin on the ceiling
It’s like floatin’
It’s like flying through the air
It’s like soarin’
It’s like glidin’
It’s a rocket ship you’re ridin’
It’s a feeling that can take you anywhere
So why they call it fallin’
Why they call it fallin’
Why they call it fallin’
I don’t know
There was passion
There was laughter
The first mornin’ after
I just couldn’t get my feet to touch the ground
Every time we were together
We talked about forever
I was certain it was Heaven we had found
So why they call it fallin’
Why they call it fallin’
Why they call it fallin’
I don’t know
But you can’t live your life
Walkin’ in the clouds
Sooner or later
You have to come down
It’s like a knife
Through the heart
When it all comes apart
It’s like someone takes a pin to your balloon
It’s a hole
It’s a cave
It’s kinda like a grave
When he tells you that he’s found somebody new
So why they call it fallin’
Why they call it fallin’
Why they call it fallin’
Now I know.
Ooh, why they call it fallin’
Why they call it fallin’
Now I know.
While some of this might have to do with procrastination (i’m good at that), most of it has to do with unexpected communication from my readers and just life in general. I’ll tell all; don’t worry. But before I go today, I really want to give a shout out to my three groups of readers, plus two individuals, that are helping pave the way for new and exciting changes for the new year:
The cemetery is named for a local university that students claim to be haunted. Who knows whether the stories are actually true. You can read them
StoriesFromthePast.com 