My Favorite 4th of July

My loving wife was born in a small English town called “Knox”, just down Ripon Road, leading out of “Harrogate”, where I first laid eyes on “My Sweet Val”, as I would call her the rest of our lives. I Met her May 27th, 1965 and would marry her Dec 4th, 1965, where we would start our journey into love and adventures across the world that would include several continents, with Val being born in England, our first son in Turkey, our second son in Ethiopia (East Africa) and I in San Bernardino California.

But it is our first 4th of July together that I am recalling and sharing with my friends on NWW (No We Won’t) and the 9/12 Network Project. Although it is a personal story, it comes from my heart and is filled with why the 4th of July means so much to me, not just another holiday, but a special meaning as my wife eventually would be separated from the birth country and all her friends and relatives for many years once married to me and whisk off to travel with me, my obedient wife, being faithful to what she was taught was her duties to me, her husband. That would all change later when I would leave her and our son in California, with my mother, while I traveled to Vietnam to fulfill my call as a soldier to defend my country. I left the perfect wife and returned to a liberated woman (ruined by my mother) who would still love me, but had a very different perspective on what her duties would be as a military wife. (I would learn to polish my own boots, brass and decorations once my mother finished grooming my once perfect wife, now I would settle with a “Near Perfect” wife.) Oh well, that would always be good enough for me.

As I courted “My Sweet Val” in England, discovering what the difference was between “Puppy Love” which I experienced every other day prior to casting my then 20/20 vision on the most beautiful creature God placed on this earth, at least to me she was. My eyes would never be the same after staring at this vision of God’s perfection, and I would never see 20/20 again, and soon my eyes would grow old and my vision would deteriorate to an imperfect sight, never to regain the once perfect vision of a proud young soldier, who always thought he saw the good in everyone and always able to sort out the bad stuff from the view imprinted into my eye socket each time I gazed at any fair lady of not only England, but just any fair lady who entered my zone of vision. I digress, back to my point.

When I met Val in May, I could not sleep or think of anything other than this near perfect creature of God’s imagination. Her angelic appearance trapped my mind, and soon my body, so that my obsession would grow each day as I felt her closing in on my life, felt her presence, knew of her special gift that only she could emit from her soul, trapping me in a world I did not understand and feared for an extended period of time was being entrapped by a beauty that terrified me, filled me with emotions that I did not understand, nor did I want to. Val was beautiful, she was warm hearted, had the sold of an angel, and the heart only God could have touched, and I felt her love not only through our touch, but though our sight, seeing Val was like peeking through the open door to heaven, a glimpse that God allowed me for reasons known only to him. What I felt is something I am now unable to tell you, unable to give you an image of, just know it was more a feeling than a vision. The warmth of love from this girl was the most intense feeling I have ever experienced, and would know it every time we held each other from that day forward. God would never allow that intense emotion, of love known between a young American soldier and an even younger British girl called “Valerie”, who would cause such intense feelings every time she would touch my hand, hold me, or once my wife, give herself to me in a way that surely was created and blessed by God’s love for two young lovers that he brought together.

So, May passed, June increased our need to be together as one, as God intended, man and wife, so as July entered our lives for the first time, I thought about how “Menwith Hill” would be celebrating the 4th, and I would have to take Valerie to her first experience of how America celebrated our independence from her country. What I did not know at the time is that although she was born in England, this beauty was more American than most girls I dated before I shipped off to England. When I asked her if she would like to see how America celebrated our independence from England, she could hardly hold back her excitement and desire to be a part of an event that would become a part of her life, every July 4th, for the rest of our lives, and a day that we would share together with the exception of one, and that was the one that I was in Vietnam, for our first and only July 4th we ever were a part. She excitedly agreed to join me for the celebration and expressed her desire to be a part of the day that she felt an affinity to already, and neither of us could explain just why or what caused the emotions she felt.

On July 4th, 1965, after getting off my mid shift, I caught the British red and white bus to Harrogate from the “Hill” (Menwith Hill) to pick up Val in Harrogate, just across the Royal Hall, where I observed many British bands just starting up, like the “Animals”, “Rockin Berries”, Beatles, Rolling Stones, etc., etc.. It was dusk, and as I sat on the bus, I could see Val running down the sidewalk in front of the Royal Hall, her blue and white dress bouncing at the knees as he tried to catch up to the buss, afraid she would miss catching it. I could not help but smile as I watched her running alongside the bus and when she saw me, I fell in love with her as I do each time I see her, just as I still do when she comes home from shopping or watching my granddaughters. I guess that’s what makes love special, when those feeling you had when you were young and in love, continue when you are old and in still in love.

She got on the bus and sat next to me, placing her hand in mine, and I was sure she could feel my shaking as I held it, squeezing it to let her know I was happy to see her and glad she was going up to the base (13th Field Station) to enjoy the 4th of July celebration dance at the club, where busses would bring girls in from Leads, Bradford, and Harrogate, to enjoy the dances and parties held for the hard working servicemen who spent most of their time at the club when not downtown with their girlfriends. It was hard not to have a girlfriend from Harrogate; the English girls all enjoyed the “Blokes” from across the pond “Atlantic Ocean”, the “Yanks” who would wind up taking many of those special young ladies home with them, when it was time to go home. There was a special quality about many of those young ladies, but the one I fell in love with had more than a few good qualities, she had a deep goodness about her that would stay with her throughout our marriage. Again, I digress, this is about the celebration of July 4th, our independence day, and I wondered if Val would appreciate me taking her up to celebrate this day America won its independence from her country. Little did I know that down inside, long before I met her, this special beautiful Brit already felt more American than English, something neither of us can now or then explain.

We went inside and found a table and enjoyed a very special night, one we would often talk about and remember as a night that brought us closer to understanding that we would one day be man and wife, although at this time in our relationship neither one of us were brave enough to acknowledge that both of us had the same intentions, to find a way to get the other to agree to share our lives together, forever, and forever is something we both understood was an agreement that that marriage would bind us together for, regardless how anyone else envisioned being married, we knew what it meant, we were just trying to find the way to tell the other that is what we wanted. We had already held hands for the first time. Had our first kiss, walked to her home in the middle of the night, down Ripon Road, then Knox Mill Lane, to Number 2 Knox Mill Lane, where her small, and I mean very small little row house was where I met her step father for the first time. But the words “Will you marry me” were yet to be uttered from my lips, whispered into her ear, fearing that if the words were spoken, the answer would be something that would break my heart, but that was not something that was a possibility as we both felt the same intense emotions, the electricity that sparked between us every time we touched. Oh, this 4th of July was going to be the day, it would have to be, and after all the dancing, holding each other tight, feeling the heat transfer from our bodies to the other as we held each other tighter and tighter with each dance. I could think of nothing else but how to make this a 4th of July that neither of us would ever forget. This had to be the day I would muster up the nerve to force those magic words part from my lips, loud enough to hear, than answer with the only words I wanted to hear, “Yes” and should that word fail to part her beautiful mouth, I could never face myself again, as I would feel a total fool.

Well, after the dance, we all went outside and watched the fireworks and sang patriotic songs, most of the guys not caring if the ladies who were our dates cared or not, we just sang and felt good inside as we understood what the day was and meant to us and only reinforced the reasons we did what we did at that station. I could actually feel and sense a certain pride Val had as we sang songs she never heard before but appeared to understand and appreciate. After that, would she dare to say yes when I asked her to be my wife? I felt uncertain now but knew I was going to go through with it and could hardly wait to get on the bus t take her home and on the way I would go through the traditional kneeling down on one knee, ask her to be my wife and pray that she would answer with one word, the only word that kept echoing over and over in my head as I practiced my lines silently to myself as we got closer and closer to the stop in Harrogate, in front of the Royal Hall, and then I had to decide just where would it be that I would ask Val to spend her life with me, leave her family, give up her citizenship, come with me where ever they sent me, but knew it would not be there as no one who married a foreign national was allowed to remain there, keeping their access to the most sensitive intelligence in the world. I would be giving up what I loved the most, until I met this soft, warm, and beautiful woman who would later mother two wonderful sons and remain with me though some very difficult assignments. Yes, we would both sacrifice a lot to be together, but she would be giving up far more than I and how could I ever thank her for choosing me over everything else that mattered in her life. Love on the 4th of July, 1965, would bring us together in ways known only to lovers found only in the imagination of those who wrote love stories.

Well, my heart was in my throat as the bus bulled up to the stop and I stepped off, holding Val small hand as she slowly stepped down from the bus to the curb, where we just stood and stared into each other’s eyes, now both of us shaking, as she must have known what I was about to ask her, but not there, not at the bus stop, I would have to take her to the park, Valley Gardens, one of the most beautiful gardens in the world, a perfect place to ask the most beautiful girl in the world (to me) to be my wife. But where, where would it be. As we walked towards the park, Val asked where we were going, as it was in the soppiest direction of “Ripon Road” that would lead us to her house down Knox Mill Lane. Instead we were going towards Valley Garden, and she knew by now where and why we were going in that direction, but acted like she was curious as to my intentions. All the while I was shaking more and more inside as I was trying to bring myself to terms to a decision I had made May 27th, the day I first laid eyes on her in Nina’s coffee shop, in Harrogate. It was now or never, I would never feel the way I did at this moment and that made it right, it was the time and any other time would be the wrong time, so I had to go through with it or I would never forgive myself.

As we approached a cross in a part of the gardens that was surrounded by flowering bushes, and it was only right that beneath that cross, a symbol of our savior’s sacrifices to all humankind, that I would do what I set out to do, find out if I was either a very big fool, which I was starting to feel a bit like, or I was going to be the luckiest man in the world and this beauty standing there, looking deep into my eyes, would say the magic word, “Yes” and our world would begin, and little did either of us know that what lay ahead of us were adventures that only fictional books told of. But, here we were, I was shaking even harder now and I felt her start to shake in anticipation of what words were bound to come from my lips, and what she heard is not what I recall saying. She maintains to this day that what I said to her at that magic moment was; “Will you be the mother of our children?” and what I recall saying is; “Will you be my wife?” Very different meanings if you are a young woman hearing the words she claims I spoke rather than the words I know I spoke, either way, she answered “Yes” (praying that what she thought I said was what I know I meant). I stayed on my knees, unable to move, so she knelt down in front of me, looking into my eyes and said “Yes, I’ll be your wife, I’ll marry you, and I’ll have your children, all you want.” And on our knees, hugging so tight I could feel her heart beating against mine, and was sure she could feel the same.

And as we held each other close, kissing, hugging, and whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears, the fireworks could be seen and heard from Menwith Hill, we had left before they went off and the timing could not have been more perfect. God does watch down on us and he let us know that our love was blessed, after what seemed like hours, not wanting to, but I did promise her mom, or as she would say, her “Mum” that I would have her home by 1:30 AM, after the fireworks. As we walked down Ripon Road, turned onto Knox Mill Lane, and finally arrived at number 2, this Angel’s house, it was just approaching the promised hour and her “Mum” was waiting and met us at the door. She asked me in and told me that I could spend the night, downstairs on the small couch, if I wanted. There was no way I would say no to that. So, as Val and her mother went upstairs, I lay by the fire place down stairs, feeling as happy as I had ever felt in my life, not realizing that the happiest days lay ahead, days that would be burned into our hearts for all time. But for the moment, the 4th of July, 1965, I felt fireworks going off inside my body and they would continue all night long, and into the day as I made my way back to the “Hill” to first tell, who would be my best man, Terry, then everyone I could think of, and finally I called home to tell my parents, and my mother’s response was; “That’s Nice”, and it was, it was very nice. It would be the nicest 4th of July I would ever have, and to marry a girl from England, who would become an American Citizen in order for me to regain my access to Special Intelligence, would make my whole life nice, very nice, and it is still very nice. Happy 4th of July!