A Life Wasted

Mary

At the end of March 1977 I was walking and reading April's guest schedule when I noticed a small group standing near my office. I looked up long enough to see Ken Spafford, Caroline Guthrie (who fancied herself my CBN mother), Sherry, Nancy (who had me close to going out with her) and a young woman whose face I couldn't see. As I maneuvered around them Ken called my name and said he wanted to introduce me to a friend of his. I was super busy but couldn't say no to Ken Spafford. No one could say no to the nicest, kindest man ever made. Ken introduced me to Mary  from Ohio as a person he met during the Jesus 76 rally in western Pennsylvania (a CBN sponsored event I missed because I was in a Virginia prison). This girl looked about sixteen so I made an effort to be polite and said hi when I reached out to shake her hand. When our hands met I went weak in the knees. For the first time I really looked at her face. She was beautiful. She was soft and kind. And innocent. Those are the words I would use to describe her. Young, beautiful, soft, kind, and innocent. She wore an ankle length dress that completely hid her body. Add a head cover and you could call her outfit a burka. She hid her body so well I couldn't judge that part. But it didn't matter if she was as flat as a board. The moment our hands touched I was smitten. Completely and totally in love. I knew in that instant that I had held the hand of my soul mate, my partner, my wife.

After holding her hand too long I let go and tried to recover. I attempted to hide my reaction but Caroline Guthrie, Sherry and Nancy all saw it. Ken was clueless as guys are about such things. I have never figured out if that girl knew then she had captured my heart with a hand shake. I suppose I should ask her now, thirty-eight years later.

I had to get away from her before I swooned, so I excused myself and went into my office and closed the door. Any doubt my female coworkers had about my reaction vanished when I closed the door. I never closed the door. The small room reminded me too much of a cell, something everyone knew. Regardless of the confines, I felt safer with the door closed. The teenage girl from Ohio scared the crap out of me. My hands were shaking and sweaty. After I recovered enough to come out only Sherry was in the outer office. She looked at me and smiled knowingly. She was going to say something so I walked away before she could. There was no doubt she knew I was off CBN's eligible single men's list.

I walked as calmly as possible through the empty Studio B, past the Green Room and make-up stations back to where Ken had his work shop. I was hoping to see that girl again, but Ken was alone working on some project. He smiled when he saw me and called me over to show me what he was working on. Can't remember what I said, but did managed to bring up "that girl". I couldn't remember her name, so was pleased when Ken called her Mary. He then launched into the story about how they met. Ken built the big stage for Jesus 76, which was held on Watson's farm in Mercer, Pennsylvania. Ken was rushing from one place to another when he smelled propane in the air. Following his nose he identified it as coming from a camper trailer. Ken knocked on the door and when no one he went in, found the gas leak and fixed it. He was just finishing the job when Mary returned to her borrowed camper. Ken introduced himself and explained what he was doing. Mary, like everyone else, loved Ken instantly. Ken invited Mary to visit him at CBN, which was the reason for her presence in Virginia.

I needed to find out all that I could about her with out being obvious, but I wasn't any good at such subtle things and Ken was clueless as to my interest. At least I thought he was. I later learned that the reason he invited Mary to CBN was to meet me. He'd matched us together the moment he met her. I did learn that Mary and her parents were staying at his place while they were in town, but at the moment they had went somewhere sight seeing.

That they were staying with Ken provided my opening. When I went to prison Ken kept my dog while I was gone. The house I now lived in didn't allow pets, so Ken still had the dog. Ken lived in a mobile home on Pat Robertson's property, near the Robertson's home, so I was out there five days a week and had visited my dog but the mutt had switched alliances. The dog obviously loved Ken and made sure I knew it. I think the mutt knew I planned to eventually take him away from Ken and his rural playground so he did everything a dog can do to let me know I was no longer his master.