The Bus Stop: A Love Story

The young, curly-haired woman was waiting at the bus stop, and on her way to work when “He” drove by in his pickup truck. She was barely five-foot two-inches tall. The light-green summer dress that she wore was hand-made by her widowed mother. The thin, black, leather belt that wrapped around her tiny waist was intended to be a modest accessory, but it actually screamed, loud and clear, that her arrival at the threshold of womanhood was something to behold. Mother Nature took over from there. The young man instinctively guided his truck to the curb. “Hi, remember me?”

The last time they saw each other was four years earlier, just before he joined the Navy, during World War Two. She was about seventeen at the time; he was a few years her senior. They had one date, of sorts, but it was fairly uneventful. Their age difference might have played a role in the somewhat-boring evening, but as far as he was concerned, she was “way too quiet” and that was all there was to it. A few months later, he did what most young men did at the time: He went off to serve his country.

The young sailor was assigned to the USS Ancon, which was the Flagship at Omaha Beach, during the battle of Normandy (D-Day). Although he would never admit it, he played a minor role in bringing the war to an end. His job was to make maps for Admirals Kirk, Hall and Wilkes who used those maps to lay out the battle plans which affected so many lives… and deaths.

As soon as the war was over, the sailor immediately headed back to the little Midwest town that he and the petite woman, with the light-green dress, called home.

While the youthful map-maker was busy at war, the pixie-like lady did a little growing up of her own. Right after she graduated from high school, she headed for San Francisco, and became a switch-board telephone operator. All day long she received and redirected incoming calls.

Her job was to adopt her most friendly tone, and inquire of callers, “Number please?” Upon hearing their number of choice, she completed their connection. All of that professional talking, in the big city, got her over that “too quiet” thing that the sailor once noted. After a couple of lease cycles, she grew tired of the big city, so she too returned to their home town. Now she was twenty-one, beautiful, a lot wiser and waiting for a bus.

So, there they were: two young, single and healthy adults…getting reacquainted by an otherwise nondescript bus stop, on some unknown side-street, in a small Midwest railroad town, known as Burlington, Iowa. The year was 1946.

This time, their happenstance meeting was different; very different indeed. She was in awe of the strong sense of confidence and worldliness that his travels thrust upon him. He adored the little chatter box that lurked inside her and jumped out at the most interesting moments. They began to spend lots of time together.

One evening they went to a local dance and the band began a new song they had been rehearsing. It was a slow and romantic number. Right on cue, the lights dimmed and the room grew very quiet. To the young woman’s surprise a band-member handed the microphone to the love-struck sailor. He looked deep into the eyes of the charming little woman who had won his heart, and he sang “Let Me Call You Sweetheart” as the band provided the back-ground music. The outcome was inevitable.

Their marriage was quickly rewarded as they added a daughter to the baby boomer generation. Less than two years later they were blessed with another beautiful baby girl. By the mid-50’s the young Iowa family transplanted themselves into Colorado. A few years later they built a very charming mountain home, essentially with their own hands. It would provide four decades of precious memories for them all.

In 1966, I had a seemingly innocent date with their younger daughter. On that evening, I was introduced to the bus stop people in the lovely mountain home that they built. None of us dared to imagine they were destined to become my in-laws, and grandma and grandpa to my own children. And now, a third generation of descendents has joined in.

The bus stop people spent 40 glorious years together before God called the sailor home. That was twenty-five years ago. Fortunately, the former telephone operator lives on, now 87.

Time may have replaced her youthful beauty with a very-complete collection of wrinkles, and a moderate dose of Alzheimer’s Disease, but she still treasures every vivid detail of that fateful day in 1946…when a young fellow, who would become her life partner, steered his old pick-up truck to the curb and inquired, “Hi, remember me?”

Here are a few of the people who are glad she did.

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