About me (…probably more than you ever wanted to know) Part I
I have always wanted to write. I feel like I have a running commentary always going on in my mind, so much to say and usually running so fast that I fail to be able to string words together to coherently express myself or at least put them into some written form for others to read and comprehend. So, blogging sounded like the perfect fit, so here I am hoping that I can make sense with all of this stuff rolling around in my head. Forgive me if I tend to ramble…feel free to skip over those parts.
I am a 44 year old married mom of 2. That is the short answer.
I was born in Fresno (I know right?) Yes, Fresno California. We moved to Maui in 1976 so my father could go into business with my grandfather (remember Mor-Rad Foods???). We lived in Kihei and my brother and I were the first class at the new Kihei School on Lipoa. It was difficult for me and Tom (brother) to adjust to things in Hawaii. We both loved it, but being the new “haole’s” in school was difficult. I was the TALLEST girl in the school (probably not THE tallest, but it sure felt that way). After Kihei School, I went to St. Anthony High School (class of ’85) and had an amazing 4 years. Our class was only 99 kids and we were all so close.
Business between my Father and Grandfather was very successful, but as with any family business, there were issues and squabbles. Add to that my father being diagnosed with lung cancer in 1984, going through radiation treatments on Oahu (yah, that was before they had treatment available on island) and the long road to remission (thank you God) - the relationship was tense. Once my brother graduated in 1986, my parents decided that they were selling their part of the business with Grandpa and moving back to the mainland. At this point I had a good job and was happy. I was attending classes at MCC and really enjoying my post high school years. I decided to stay on Maui.
My independent living on Maui lasted about a year. In April or May of 1987, I was homesick and missed my family so I headed back to California. Sold my little Sentra, loaded up a small container with my “junks” and off I went. I arrived in California June of 1987. I started classes at Columbia Junior College in the beautiful Sierra Nevada town of, yes, Columbia (just outside Sonora) and settled in.
Then, one cold and snowy February night in 1988, I went out with my college friends to the “Iron Door Saloon” in Groveland California. Little did I know that everything was about to change for me in that old west saloon. I met Jim that night. He was there on a weekend vacation with his friends, they had rented a cabin on the lake and were out for a night on the town in Groovy-Groveland. (the town has a population of maybe 1500, and is a flash on the highway as you climb the hill to get to Yosemite National Park). Jim and his friends had already met and befriended the “locals” and were having a good time. Me and my friends came in the back door, and as we started to say hi to everyone, the local crew was introducing everyone to everyone…except for me. You see, I was not a bar person..not a “party-girl” by any means. So, when Jim asked one of the locals, “Who is that” pointing to me…the answer he got was..”oh, that’s just Carrol” HAHAHA. Jim and I talked, we danced (there is even a story about him trying to kiss me on the dance floor and me turning my head so he got cheek instead of lips, but this event is still being hotly debated, so I am going to skip it for this particular post..perhaps I will revisit it at a later date..). As the night came to an end, we agreed to meet at the “Door” (what the locals called the Irondoor) the next evening to get to know each other better. Then next night was…get this…(cue corny music…) Valentines day.
As I have already mentioned, I was not someone who frequented drinking establishments (however if there was a game of quarters at the Dorm’s, you could bet I was there rolling quarters off my nose into the glass making EVERYONE drink!!) SO, I wussed out and took my roommate with me to meet Jim the next night. So, Toni (roommate) and I arrived, it was a Sunday, so the bar was quieter and well-lit - not the loud live band craziness of the night before. We sat at the bar and talked and talked…Just Jim and I. Toni knew someone and was with them at another table. At one point during the night, Jim got up to use the men’s room, and Toni said to me…”I’m sorry Carrol, but I don’t trust him…he looks like he has bullsh%# written all over his face” I said, “well I like him and I think your wrong, you need to keep your opinions to yourself” hahahaha.
After this, Jim and I spoke on the phone often, okay, daily…and got to know each other better and spent most weekends with each other (he was living in Redwood City and it was a 3 hour commute to Columbia) so it was difficult for us to spend time together. By spring break I was a dead duck, and went to spend some time with him at his mom’s house. He proposed to me a short time later and we were married July 9, 1988, just barely 5 months after we met.
The day we were married it was 106 degrees and HOT! It was a special day that I will never forget. My father was so nervous walking me down the aisle. We had a rented hall across town for the reception and got there via a rented lincoln driven by our best man. We had a buffet and a DJ and champagne and real glass flutes for all the guests all to toast us with. OK - I know that real glass flutes is not a big deal, but this was 1988, loonnng before makeup artists and hairdressers that come to your house to make you over, and specialty cakes that you taste test before you buy etc etc, so this small detail meant a great deal to me 
My father wanted it to be a day to remember, and it was. In our photo album, towards the end, there is a shot of Jim and I behind our 3 tiered uncut wedding cake, Jims arms around me with a grin on his face that speaks volumes…and my dad in the foreground of the picture standing there without his tux jacket, hair a bit mussed with both of his pockets turned out…hahaha u spent it all on me Daddy…thank you.
To be continued
