I got to Fort Huachuca in January of 1967. I was not impressed. I was a seabag baby, grew up Navy all the way, which meant that I was always near the ocean...some ocean. I had never been to a desert in my entire life. When my teenage friends suggested a trip to the desert for fun, my response was always..."what fun?"...the ocean was closer and I LOVED the ocean. Any how, my travels from San Diego to Fort Huachuca are subject for a coming post, this ain't about that. It IS about how I met MamaCharlie and our song.

Vern was my best buddy in our barracks life in Ft Hoochy-koochy (a mis-nomer if ever there was one !!). He was dating his home town girlfriend, who had taken up residence at the University of Arizona, in Tucson, to be close to him (lots closer than Cleveland). He would make the 70 mile drive to see her two or three times a week and every weekend. I didn't have a girlfriend, hometown or otherwise, having recently been cut loose by every girl I had ever dated.

So there I was, at the Pontiac dealer in Tucson because the early GM muscle cars had more torque than the axles had strength...my GTO had a twisted axle. There was a lot of hoopla between the Chevy dealer where I bought the GTO (in El Cajon) and the Pontiac dealer in Tucson about who was going to pay for what. The result of all that discussion was that at the end of the day, the dealer closed and left me carless 70 miles from bed. The bus was definitely out. Then it popped into my pea brain that Vern was in town seeing Kathy. All I had to do was walk the 6 or 7 miles from Miracle Mile to Arizona Hall and try to intercept him...I would have a ride.

The plan worked. I walked over to the U of A and found the dorms. I sat on a small retaining wall near the front of Arizona Hall watching the comings and goings until the blue '60 Impala rumbled into the parking lot and the two shadows inside merged...I waited a respectful time to allow the kissing to get done then tapped on the window, told my tale of woe, and asked for a ride home. After they got done laughing at me, Vern agreed that I should ride with him. But the up-side was that I met Kathy and we hit it off and she immediately took it upon herself to "fix" me up with a college cutie. I allowed as how that would be okay with me. I couldn't believe my good fortune, a ride AND a match maker...Cooool.

In time for the weekend, the Pontiac dealer put my axle in, but there was still more hoopla to go because the twisted axle had made un-normal wear on the rear end and the ring and pinion gears needed to be replaced. But at least I could drive it around until they hashed out who was gonna do what to who. I showed up at the dorm on time Friday Night to meet up with my first "fix up". Kathy told me that this was a really sweet girl, majoring in German studies so we had a lot in common...blond....I was really looking forward to meeting her. She was everything Kathy said and more...a LOT more...barely over five feet tall...not a dime under 160 pounds...and wanted to speak German all night.

The second date was a lot better. A fairly attractive girl from back east somewhere...but the only thing we had in common was our love of Bill Cosby. At the end of that one I was ready to tell Kathy to forget about it but she felt bad that the first two didn't go so well and insisted that I give her one more chance. I agreed...reluctantly.

The third date was a slender, dark haired, good looking young lady who was very, very sweet. I couldn't believe my good fortune...and fearfully waited for the other shoe to drop. She told me she was an English major...I told her I was an American Sergeant so we should get along just fine. And we did. It was April of 1967, just about to blossom into what is now referred to as the "Summer of Love". On the ride back to the dorm that night (after making sergeant, I no longer had to make bedcheck...but because she lived in the dorm...SHE DID !!), the DJ on KFIF announced a new release from the Jefferson Airplane, a "pick to klick" and the song "Somebody to Love" started cranking...I had heard it earlier in the day and liked it and reached for the volume knob to turn it up and bumped into my English major reaching for the knob, too. She had also heard it earlier and like it. I laughed and told her that thirty years from then we would hear it on oldie night and we would say, "Oh Honey, they're playing our song".

We were sitting in the den tonight listening to rock and roll from outer space when Somebody to Love came on and I said, "Honey, they're playing our song !" It would be a great literary gimmick to say that the dark interior of that GTO filled my mind as I thought of the reach for the knob...but in all honesty, I have been thinking about writing this for a week or so. Because I am one of the lucky ones. I found the love of a lifetime, the first time, and for forty years and some change there has been no loss of traction...quite the opposite.

I know that not everyone is so fortunate. I wish you all could feel the way I feel. There is nothing better than having somebody to love.