It was September of 1965. I was a high school sophomore, though in those days we had junior high (7^th-9^th grades) instead of middle school (6^th-8^th) and so this was to be my first year of high school. A whole new world. We were only into the second or third week of school when a kid I knew from junior high and who was in my fourth period English class approached my desk just before the bell rang. He got down on one knee in the typical proposal pose, “Sharon Fletcher, will you be my debate partner?” Are you kidding me?! Stand up! NO!! You’re embarrassing me! I do not want to be your debate partner. Or anybody’s debate partner. Go away! And Mr. Star said, “Paul, what are you doing?! Take your seat.” But after class he was waiting for me.

He explained that the guidance counselor, Mrs. Murray,  had called him into her office a couple of days before to see what extra-curricular activities he was planning on joining. He had not been quick with an answer. “You would be good in the debate club,” she announced. Take this note to Mr. Hamn and tell him I have signed you up for the debate team.” And so he did. I guess for no other reason than because he was just a dumb sophomore and didn’t know any better. Mr. Hamn told him he would need to find a partner because everyone else was already paired up and he was the odd man out. So he went to the smartest kid in the class, Tom Holloran (who would end up valedictorian), but Tom was too busy and wasn’t interested. His best friend, also named Tom, was heavy into sports and he definitely wouldn’t have the time. I think he tried a couple of others without success which brought him to my desk in fourth period and seeing as how he was desperate, I was exactly what he was looking for (my words not his but one of my favorite lines from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.)  NO!!!

I thought no more about it until my mother got home from work and asked me how school had gone and I replayed the scene for her, complete with the bended knee. “Weird, right?” I laughed. But clearly she had not taken in the whole cheesiness factor or absurdity of the situation or my insistence that I was NOT interested. She said simply, “Yes. You should do it. You need an activity. This is a good fit. Tell him you’ll do it.”  Two things you should know. My mother was a single, working mom (not very common in those days) and I’m sure she saw this as an opportunity to keep me occupied, engaged in a worthwhile activity, and hence out of trouble since how much trouble could you get into in debate club? She had no idea what went on in the back of the bus on those debate trips. And second, if my mother had made up her mind – there WAS no debate. I was stuck.

In many ways, that year changed my life. I learned that I was smarter than I knew and that I was good at something. As it turned out, that something didn’t happen to be debate. I really hated that – though maybe it was just the topic: Resolved: That the federal government should adopt a program of compulsory arbitration in labor management disputes in basic industries (how do I still remember that?) I liked the friends I made that year and how interesting and funny and curious they were about ideas and about life: John (who pasted a bumper sticker on his bare stomach and then discovered it wouldn’t peel off and so every time he moved there was the sound of crinkling paper) and Eddie, Linda and Ann F. and Connie and Mary and Ann W. and all the ones who came after.

I liked staying in the hotels on overnight trips and getting locked out of our room and staying up way too late even though we had to compete the next day. I liked seeing my name on the list of people who had made it to the next round and that every once in a while I got to take home a trophy. I liked Mr. Hamn who became my mentor in speech as well as in life and wasn’t afraid to tell me about the guy I was dating – “he’s a loser”. And I liked that when Mr. Hamn said that nobody could take up a seat on the bus unless they competed in a second event, I discovered what I really loved and could win at:  Drama. But maybe the thing I liked best  about that year (though I wouldn’t know it until later) was all the hours I spent at the library doing research with my debate partner and then drinking cherry limeades at Sambo’s across the street and solving the problems of the world. He was a person of faith and helped me to find my own way to faith and since we were both dating other people that year, the boy-girl thing didn’t get in our way. Which is good because it’s hard to solve the problems of the world or worry too much about a solution to labor-management disputes if you’re distracted by love. However, love would follow within a couple of years and deepen over a lifetime.

We only debated together that one year. After that I spent more time with drama and he found another debate partner. I asked him later why he asked me after his first choices turned him down. “Well, I remember that in 9^th grade you gave a speech at the Honor Society Banquet and you weren’t that bad.” For somebody who was good with words, he still had a ways to go.

So today as we celebrate our 46th  wedding anniversary, maybe we will raise a glass to Mrs. Murray who was just doing her job, to Mr. Star’s  fourth period English Class where it all began, to my mother against whom I never won a debate, and to Mr. Hamn and the Centennial Debate Team for some invaluable lessons and great times. Cheers!

And Happy Anniversary to the one I love.