Remembering People Paper

Remembering People Paper

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Plato's Plan

Little did I know that one decision would change my life completely. I traveled home to Quincy, Illinois after my first year of college at Illinois Wesleyan University in Bloomington, Illinois. Thoughts of fraternity exchanges, sorority rush, and the English house faded as I met Phillip during the summer. We began dating casually, but only one year later, I felt ready to leave the Alpha Gam house and attend college at Quincy University to be closer to him. The surprise I didn't expect to find was on the campus of Quincy University.

After all the transfer paperwork was finished and I selected courses for my English major, I obtained a work-study position in the Admissions Office. Two or three afternoons a week I found myself laughing and flirting with this tall, clean-cut admissions counselor, a guy I hardly knew. Here I was, a girl with a serious boyfriend who had already selected an engagement ring, finding pleasure in another man's company. After two months of suggestions, I finally decided to accept a date from this admissions counselor, Tim Huels.

I left work at nine p.m. on a Friday night to meet Tim at his house, a place he rented with two other friends from college. I felt nervous since I had never seen Tim in anything but a shirt and tie in his office. After a quick tour of the unmatched bachelor pad, we left for Lily's, a dance bar in the local Holiday Inn. Call me dishonest, but at this time, Tim did not know of Phillip, and Phillip did not know of Tim. Some of Tim's friends met us there as the night faded away. Although I did not realize it at the time, my decision to be closer to my boyfriend Phillip only backfired for him. Instead of accepting an engagement ring, I accepted a date from a fun-loving guy.

About five months and much frustration later, I managed to convince Phillip and my mother who loved him that our relationship was over. About nine years later, this admissions counselor, Tim Huels, wears the silver and gold ring I gave him on our wedding day and fathers two young children, Emma and Ben. My forlorn decision to attend college closer to my freshman infatuation enabled me to meet my love for life. Now when I think of our relationship I remember reading Plato in Dr. Messina's Literary Origins class. In "The Speech of Aristophanes", Plato recommends "Love is born into every human being: it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature. Each of us, then, is a 'matching half' of a human whole. . . and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him." To my surprise, I found the half that matched me when I wasn't even looking. Above all, nine years after we first met I now realize that I love Tim we complement each other. He fills up my weaknesses, and I his.

Tim's openness and willingness to talk to people impressed me when I first met him. As a student worker in the admission's office, I listened to him speak in front of a podium during an orientation session. His face, mouth smiling and eyes bright, made his feelings about his work very clear. A few days later I sat in the admissions office, answering the telephone and sending information packets to interested students. All of a sudden he sat down in a nearby chair. From this first conversation, I can only remember his enthusiasm. Tim's love of people pervades his everyday life. Talking to our neighbor, schmoozing the crowd at a party, or persuading his customers, Tim's zest for meeting and knowing people causes him to be a social favorite. At wedding receptions, we are first on the dance floor. Tim's rhythmic hips and feet provoke looks and laughter from the huddling crowds. As we started dating, I became greatly embarrassed at his performances. Now I accept this attention-getting technique.

Until I met Tim, I always considered myself outgoing. I had many friends throughout high school and college. Through orchestra, choir, and church, I became accustomed to performing in front of a crowd. Despite these occasions, I play the role of listener instead of talker in a social setting. A few weeks ago one of Tim's friends from college and his new wife visited us for the weekend. John and Christy felt disappointed when they learned another friend and his wife cancelled their plans. I had only talked to Christy briefly at a party two years ago and for five minutes on her wedding day. To make her feel comfortable, I tried to get her to do all the talking. In our silver van on our way to Soulard, I asked her questions about her job, her family, and her marriage. She hardly stopped talking; I listened attentively, knowing she was feeling more comfortable. I suppose this contrast in our demeanor promotes a healthy relationship. We typically do not fight to get a word in edgewise or sit at the supper table without saying a word.

A subject we often talk about is money. I hate these conversations. Regardless of how much money we have or do not have, Tim always tells me we have none. Tim, the saver, enjoys creating and keeping a budget. Sitting at our oak, roll-top desk, he clicks the mouse to open Quicken, a piece of software used to manage money. When I see the yellow, horizontal stripes on the monitor, I instinctively choose to leave the room to avoid conflict. Finally after much perusing, Tim manages to gain my attention so he can explain our financial status for the month. I can tell by his body language what he will say next. If he feels positive about our finances, he holds his dark brown head high; if his feelings are negative, he slouches his wide shoulders and scrutinizes the colored pie chart with lowered, green eyes.

Although I dislike this experience, I realize that his financial organization appeals to me. During my first year of teaching, I paid my own bills, rent, college loan, credit cards, etc. However, I admit even though I never bounced a check; I never actually balanced my checkbook. While Tim is the saver, I am the spender. Call it a hobby, but I enjoy purchasing clothes and toys for our family. Garden Ridge, Linens and Things, Children's Place, and Casual Corner sit on the top of my favorites list. My mother-in-law calls me her personal shopper. Since she hates to shop, I volunteered to go to Bed, Bath, and Beyond alone to buy a shower gift. I enjoy browsing; when I shop alone, it requires no talking, only meditation. While Tim purchases nothing on impulse, I occasionally do. At the Quincy mall without children and time constraints, I managed to carry five bags down the brown, brick floor and out the glass door. I rewarded myself after finishing two presentations at a teacher conference. Was it in the budget? I suppose all rules most occasionally be broken.

I also admire Tim for his loyalty to our church. When we first started dating, my mother called him to explain he could not date me because he believed in the Catholic faith. Although my parents attend any religious denomination, they raised me as a Catholic until the third grade when their beliefs changed drastically. Tim and I attend Saints Peter and Paul Church in Waterloo where we have become active participants. The loyalist, Tim, never wants to miss a single Sunday. The weekend when John and Christy visited they left at 11:30 a.m., too late to attend mass in Waterloo. Tim claimed his stomach hurts because he missed the service. On a holy day of obligation, he will attend without the three of us, knowing Emma, Ben, and I will likely miss church. I, on the other hand, do not feel as strongly committed to any church. I feel no guilt if I fail to attend church. His desire to be loyal to God and church keeps me on the right track; I wish I possessed this same loyalty.

I think our final difference makes our family especially succeed. In the evening after supper, Emma, four, and Ben, three, enjoy playing with their dad. When Tim throws Emma up in the air, she giggles with delight and pleads, "Do it again, Daddy." On our square, king-size bed, Emma and Ben relish tickles from their dad. While standing at the kitchen sink with my hands in soapy water, I hear shrieks of laughter from Emma. Ben, however, cries and laughs at the same time, sometimes unsure if he loves or hates Daddy's teasing. Although I sometimes protest at a game's intensity, I cherish the time he spends with our children, knowing that he loves and wants them to be active, energetic kids. Tim, the rough-houser, plays games with Ben. On the plaid couch, Tim sits as Ben stands next to him. The boxing math begins. Tim lightly smacks Bens face as Ben tries to get his dad. If Tim unintentionally hurts him, Tim orders, "Shake it off." As a result, Ben shakes his head back and forth so fast that his brown hair elevates from his head. Golf, football, basketball, baseball, or any other activity, all require Tim's participation if he can be found.

In my many hours at home with my children, I have shot baskets, pitched a baseball, and thrown a football, but this is not my specialty. Where Tim masters aggressive playtime, I possess the magic touch. After their energy wanes, either Emma or Ben usually end up getting hurt. Of course, I have the responsibility of kissing all the hurts away and giving an extra hug. At bedtime, Emma and Ben get in their beds and wait for me to sing them a song; sometimes I change the words to a well-known tune and sing about them. "Emma loves her blankie so, she will never let it go" has become a popular choice. One night last week Tim walked in Ben's room to say goodnight; Ben as nice as he could replied, "Go away, Daddy. Mommy's coming." If I ever need to threaten to take something away to ensure acceptable behavior, I only have to quickly say, "No song tonight." The threat rids our home of all appalling, preschool behavior. Happy, helpful children suddenly replace snotty, tired siblings.

Little did I know that the admissions counselor I met my junior year of college would provide strength in my areas of weakness. Even though I was oblivious to my search, I unexpectedly found the half that matches me. The saying opposites attract certainly proves true in our relationship. Despite our regular disagreements, we manage to compromise, knowing that we have slightly different perspectives on love, life, and family. Many times I have not liked his behavior or his choices, but I know that above all, I love him for the strengths he brings out in me. Plato's plan worked for us. If I had not transferred universities in 1992, I would not live in wonderful Waterloo. I would not have achieved my master's degree. I would not teach at SWIC. I would not be a mother of two terrific children named Emma and Ben. My husband would not be Tim Huels. I love the life that we, my match and I, have created together.