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My summer semester at CMU ended in disaster. I
ended up dropping my classes and withdrawing from school. That summer
we worked as handymen at Mr Hartman’s, and have lots of funny
stories from the experience.
The bunny stopped being me when I returned home to Dearborn. It was
Lyn that had picked the name "Jesse". When we had first
met, Lyn had been engaged to marry another boy, Randy, but had, I had
been told, given the diamond ring back in the fairly dramatic fashion
typical of a seventeen-year-old girl. When Randy planned out his and
Lyn’s future together (Randy would do the talking for everybody,
even me during the few occasions that we spoke), he had announced
that their first-born male child was to be named ‘Vern’. I
could not then and cannot to this day speak this fact without smiling
or laughing out loud. Ok, Randy, we’ll name him Vern, said Lyn
as she was figuring out exactly how to make sure they never produced
a male offspring.
 Lyn
had announced the name Jesse for our first born in honor
of her favorite teacher from school, Mr King, the music instructor.
Lyn hung out constantly in the music department, was the president of
the music club, played the piano for the choir and spent each lunch
period in his room. We called him Mr King (to his face) and
"JDK" when speaking of him in 3rd person, and he was a
delightful man to be around. He was level-headed, treated kids with
respect, had a dry but funny sense of humor, but mostly set an
excellent example of how parents should act. He was a role model and
father figure to Lyn and, to a lesser extent eventually, also to me.
When Lyn talked about our future child being called "Jesse",
it was fine with me. She used to spend hours writing names
everywhere (another of her endearing compulsive behaviors of that
era) and seeing "Jesse David" appearing on scratch pads,
and paper plates, and napkins and telephone book covers set the stage
for me for what was to come.
When we returned to CMU that fall (Lyn transferred from UM-D, took a
student loan, and stayed with me my one year on campus), Jesse the
bunny went with us. Lyn first adopted his scratchy voice, and we took
turns speaking for him. Lyn had a gift of drawing a cartoon bunny,
and it was during our year at CMU that we developed his personality.
Jesse was to be snotty but funny. People would have found him
irritating if not for his being too darn cute. He was to have the
magic ability to push the window on sarcasm, wittiness, and being
overbearing but always pull back at the last moment and blink or
smile. He quickly evolved into one of those precocious kids that you
can’t stay mad at, even if you should. Jesse bunny was not
ruthless or destructive, just witty and snotty. Somehow that concept
evolved for me (and for Lyn) as the personality for an ideal child.
Lyn drew several great cartoons of his imaginary
mischief. One had him secretly working all day to plant a garden for
us, but "planting" in it steaks and pork chops from the
freezer, telling me how many great dinners we would be having come
fall thanks to his help. Lyn drew a great cartoon of him talking to
the girl at McDonalds in St Johns (our favorite snack and layover
place on the 150 mile drive from Mt Pleasant home to Dearborn),
saying "slip some extra fries in there, baby!" Of course, I
drew cartoon bunnies, too, but they were always more lifelike and
always seemed perplexed, or worried, or tired. Lyn was the one that
made sure that Jesse-bunny was always full of life, full of
excitement, and living each moment to the fullest.
Jesse-bunny came home with us each week-end that we made the trip. We
had a duffel bag for laundry (one reason for going home) and we would
tuck him in the top, head sticking out thru the rope loop, and his
head would bob (looking backward) as I carried the duffel to or from
the car. Jesse-bunny was a touchpoint, a constant reminder that we
were growing up and had a future ahead of us, that everything that
was going on just then was somehow not as important as what was
coming in the years ahead. We must have stuck out like a sore thumb
at CMU (I know we stuck out): two people, devoted to each other,
never concerned about social pressures, never in attendance at the
constant drinking binge parties, and doting over a stuffed bunny,
giving it a lifelike personality. But when his time came, we knew
what the real Jesse was going to be like. We began that next
Christmas to give Jesse-bunny presents, and Lyn took pictures of him
in front of a backdrop and carried it in her purse (like baby
pictures). We longed for Jesse and looked forward, for years and
years and years, to his eventual arrival.
After just one year in Mt Pleasant, I could not
take the pressure of the situation. Dad had forbidden me to live
anywhere but the dorm (blaming apartment life for my brother
Ted’s downfall) and I would not return to campus under those
terms. We had investigated getting married, getting grants or loans
(assuming Dad would cut me off financially) but the numbers just
didn’t work out. After the second semester, in May of 1978, we
returned to Dearborn and Jesse-bunny came home to live with Lyn.
That May I started my first job at DAB and in
August Lyn returned to UM-D. She lived at home with her parents and
worked at the "Woman’s Center". She made new friends
and played the keyboard for the "Singing Belle’s", a
bizarrely squeaky clean sister wedding singer act whose older belle
also worked at UM-D’s woman’s center. I commuted each day
from Dearborn to Troy and back and considered the drive unbearable
even though other DAB people had commuted similar or greater
distances for decades.
Just before Labor day, after 90 days on the job at DAB, Dad loaned me
the money to purchase my first NEW car. Out with the tired old Hornet
and in with a beautiful new white Toyota Corolla sport coupe.  Two
doors, 5-speed stick shift, and an incredible red and yellow stripe
running on the side panel from the headlight to the trunk. I named
the car "Windsong", a name that I thought expressed the
freedom she provided, her beautiful lines, and her Japanese roots.
Lyn named the car "Nibbie" and refused to call it anything
else. We spent a day off over Labor day going over to Canada and
visiting Lake Erie at the Pt Pelee park before Lyn returned for a
second year UM-D, interrupted by a year at CMU. It was our first
Labor Day get-away and 15 years later, Lyn's parents would babysit
the newborn Jesse while we resumed the tradition.
That July Lisa and Nick were married at Melvindale church and Lyn
organized a backyard wedding reception for them at her parent's
house. The newlyweds took over the upstairs until Nick could line up
a job and an apartment for them in Ann Arbor. During the fall, Lyn
played the organ for Melvindale Methodist church and I sang in the
choir. That Christmas, we opened presents with Rev Wiggens (he was
being divorced) and in January, Tammy was born.
In May of 1979, I drove myself (in my snazzy
white sports car with the custom license plates) to Chicago and on
the lonely drive home I reached the decision that it was time for me
to move out from my parent's home and get my own apartment. Like
everything else in my life, I asked Lyn to help research and pick the
place for "me" to move into. We would find ourselves
married in 3 short months and the apartment she found for me would
become our first home. Lyn finished her year at UM-D and worked the
summer as a motel maid, cleaning toilets and making beds. I purchased
1979 season tickets to the Detroit Express soccer team (the summer we
met Trevor Francis) and we attended
every game, Lyn commuting by bus and my returning her to her parents'
home near midnight.
I moved into the Troy apartment in mid-June and after my 20th
birthday in July it became obvious that Lyn, too, would need move
away for her parents. With complete practicality and devoid of
romance, I offered that we should get married. She was initially
hesitant, but eventually decided to proceed. Within a week we stood
before Judge Joseph Burtell and exchanged our vows (later he would
resign over accusations of taking illegal campaign contributions). It
was the last week of August 1979, exactly 28 days after my 20th
birthday. Because of this fact, my birthday and our anniversary
always fall on the same day of the week each year.
We played putt-putt golf on our wedding night and I went back to work
at DAB in the morning. Absolutely everybody was surprised by the
suddenness of our marriage. With Lisa and Nick’s sudden wedding
the previous year, family and friends were suspicious and many
expected a baby to appear the following spring. But alas, our child
would be no accident and, unknown to us at the time, Jesse's birth
was nearly eight full years away. Our son was going to be planned,
some would say OVER planned.
Our first Christmas together, our only Christmas
in the Troy apartment, we celebrated with a natural Christmas tree
(whose trail of dead needles earned us a ‘notice’ from the
apartment manager) and another addition to our family. On December
25th, 1979 Squibby arrived wrapped as a Christmas present. He
was a three inch tall gray plush squirrel pup, with black-button eyes
and a gigantic squirrel tail. I found and bought him at the gift shop
at Farrells Ice Cream parlor (now, long out of business). He was a
little brother for Jesse-bunny to take care of and he was given that
Christmas to Jesse, not to Lyn.
Lyn decided that Squibby did not speak, saying only "wee-bah,
wee-bah" and using pantomime for the rest. Only Jesse-bunny
could understand him, and he would take turns, sometimes interpreting
for Squibby, sometimes refusing to do so, and sometimes purposely
saying that Squibby said something he obviously hadn't. Jesse-bunny
would have the spiritual connection to Squibby (and vice-versa) that
is only possessed by an older brother.
Squibby's pure heart quickly became the perfect offset to
Jesse-bunny, whose tart responses and prankish hijinks had crossed
over the line to being dangerous, disrespectful and slovenly.  Squibby
became Jesse-bunny’s conscience always saying (‘wee-bah,
wee-bah’) that we shouldn’t be doing a certain thing or
that a certain plan was only half-baked. It was a delight to be a 2
child family, one 10 inch tall tan stuffed bunny (with an attitude)
and a 3 inch tall gray stuffed squirrel pup (with an over-active
conscience). We treated them like children, talking alternately for
them, and in this way developed our own sensibilities and priorities
about raising our kids. Lyn and I used them to show each other what
future we wanted for our children. Jesse-bunny sits with the stuffed
animals, now that we have the real one, but he cemented our bond as
parents and is tangible proof that we looked forward to the birth of
the "real" Jesse for years and years and years.
From Troy we moved to Southfield then onto
Denver and then into our first house. We have picture after picture
me (in my early twenties) with Jesse-bunny and Squibby, taken with
each new purchase. The new microwave, the new TV, the first Christmas
tree, the "mouse trap" game. We still take pictures like
that today, only that little stuffed bunny is now a real boy. I feel
that I am just like Gepetto (Pinocchio's dad), and that Jesse is
living proof of the magic of love and longing for a son. (By the way,
does that make Lyn the blue fairy?)
Our first Christmas in Denver
(at the apartment) we flew back to celebrate with Lyn's family in
Dearborn. Lyn flew first and I flew later, bringing for Jesse and
Squibby their presents: a do-it-yourself lemonade stand (my son will
someday be an entrepreneur) and the sticks and mud for a
do-it-yourself squirrel nest kit (so Squibby could explore his
cultural identity). When playing tricks on Lyn, I would often blame
Jesse-bunny for instigating it and he would just look away and
whistle, then turn and say ‘fink’ to me under his breath.
These were very happy times for us (in this regard) while being
stormy times and confusing times in many others. Jesse-bunny always
represented our hopes, our future. Whenever one of us got to the
point of giving up on our future, the other always used the voice of
Jesse-bunny to put things back into perspective. Today, that simple
‘I love you’ from the real Jesse is the reason for
everything. And, simply put, my future is his future first, my future
second, and everything else a distant third. |
