The Story of the First Day I Saw My Husband

Derek and Jessica Bailey at haunted house, Oct. 1996 

 I am not talking about the day that I literally saw Derek for the first time.  I do not remember that day.  It would have been sometime at Purdue University in a chemistry class.   We ran in different chemistry “crowds” at that time and sat with different people.  He was just another chemistry student face in the crowd to me.

I am not even talking about the day that I noticed that Derek existed.  I DO remember that day.  I remember walking into chemistry class and being blinded by a tall, rather good-looking guy who I thought normally had dark hair, but now was sporting radically orange hair.  (He says “blond”, but I remember it distinctly as orange.  See picture- I think I am right!)  I remember rolling my eyes and asking myself why someone would dye their hair orange?  (Apparently it was the result of a Purdue spirit week stunt).  Well, Derek definitely got my attention that day.  I just assumed from the orange hair that he was in the chemistry fraternity (he was sitting with that crowd in class), was one of those “party people” and not a serious student (like me – snob that I was then).  So, after taking in the “orange-ness” that was Derek (not sure I even knew his name then), I walked over to sit with my “studious friends” and did not give him a second thought. 

Derek, Spring 1994

[Side Note: I wish I could go back in time and kick myself.  I was definitely in the wrong.  For all of you who know my husband, even with orange hair, “party animal” is not a definition that fits him at all.  Although he is a really fun guy, in his own quirky way…]

Since sometime freshman year, Derek had been in the background of my life.  I’m sure he was in most of my chemistry classes, but as I said, we ran in different crowds.  He is a quiet person, so maybe we said “Hi” to one another before or after class.  Who knows?  As a related aside, during sophomore year, I took differential equations class with a German student named Sven.  Sven was a very outgoing and talkative individual.  He would entertain all of us with stories and anecdotes before class, one of which involved he and his roommate and weekend bike rides to the Marsh store to buy groceries.  This sticks in my brain because I it impressed me that they actually took the time to plan bike rides to buy groceries. (Most college students would be paralyzed without a car or with having to plan to feed themselves beyond a bowl of cereal).  Why didn’t they simply take a car we asked?  Not as challenging or as fun, he replied.  Cool!  So, I later found out that Sven’s biking roommate was Derek.  But I digress…

Derek and Sven Strohband, Sept. 1995

Fast forward to fall semester of my senior year at Purdue.  We were still a year away from grad school and “real life”.  Life was grand!  We chemistry seniors had our schedules fixed so that we only had “real” classes on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays with Tuesdays and Thursday totally free for independent research projects in the lab.  (What this really meant is that we could stay up late the days we had classes -either studying or playing euchre, sleep in on Tuesday and Thursdays, and then drag ourselves into the labs after noon on Tuesdays and Thursdays!).  We all were taking Analytical Chemistry class together (my absolute favorite class of all time!!!).  It was usually after this class that we would all congregate and make evening and weekend plans. 

Nate Wymer, Tommi, Derek, Fall 1996, Purdue Chemistry Student Lounge

Interestingly enough, it was senior year that Derek all of a sudden started appearing at the periphery of my chemistry crowd.    I distinctly remember looking up from where I was in the middle of our little group in the hallway after class one day, and there he was toward the back of everyone, listening to what we were discussing.  He kept rolling his eyes (or that is what I thought he was doing until I later learned he does that when his contacts are bugging him---he very rarely rolls his eyes on purpose.).  Before I knew it, he was a “regular” in my group of study sessions, euchre nights, movies and other activities.  I found out he was from a smaller town called Plymouth, Indiana which is very close to my hometown of South Bend.  His high school often played my high school in sporting events, and his family would come up to South Bend for “big city” shopping.  I also was a fan of the Plymouth Tri-Way drive-in theater.  It was fun to have a friend in the bunch with whom I had hometown landmarks and references in common.  

So now we come to the day in question.  The scene is mid-October.  There are at least eight of us friends, maybe more, standing in line on a cool, crisp Saturday night with hundreds of other students waiting to get into a Haunted House put on by the local high school as a fundraiser.  The high schoolers did an excellent job putting on this haunted house every year and it had become an annual event for most Purdue students, including we chemistry-nerds!  We had spent the better part of our Friday lunch break planning the logistics of the evening. 

Logistics did not go quite as planned.  Earlier in the day my friend and fellow chemist, Jessica Bailey, had sprained her ankle (a story for another time) and was now standing with crutches with us on the lawn waiting to enter and enjoy the haunted house.  Now, the haunted house is a WALKING tour in the dark, with uneven surfaces, twists and turns, tight corners, dead ends, and of course a whole host of ghosts and ghouls and all things spooky and frightening.  Sometimes there were areas where you had to duck and crouch to get through.  However, Jess insisted on going with us despite her crutches and ankle discomfort.  We had NO IDEA how we were going to get her through the tour successfully without something going horribly wrong (pun probably intended). 

In comes Derek to the rescue!  In his understated way, he volunteered to be Jessica’s guide through the haunted house.  Even though it was slow going, he stayed with Jessica the entire tour!  He helped her navigate all the weird and spooky rooms and uneven flooring.  He made sure both she AND her crutches made it out unscathed.  Where the rest of us were negative and clueless as to what to do about Jess, he just stepped up to help her because it was the nice thing to do.  It was the right thing to do. 

That was the night I truly “saw” Derek for who he is.   I saw a tall, handsome, wonderful man who will go above and beyond to help a friend.   I had no idea then that he and I would later become husband and wife and build a life together with two wonderful boys.  However, that night I did see the kindness in his eyes, the warmth of his smile, and decided that I wanted to get to know him better. 

And we did get to know each other better.  In the ensuing months I found out that he knew how to make lasagna from scratch and pair it with wine when he and Sven organized a spring dinner party.  He also showed up for a finals study session with a homemade chocolate cake and a six pack of Guinness!   (A good heart AND a great cook.  JACKPOT!!!).  He taught himself some sign language when he learned that my roommate was hearing impaired.   He even bought me a small can of mace spray for those rare occasions when I would be walking on campus by myself in the evening.  That was my first real hint that maybe he cared about me a little bit more than “just friends”. 

So, when did we become more than “just friends” you ask?   That is a story for another day…

Derek and Tommi, December 1996

The Story About the Day I Met My Brother

It is August 8, 1980.  I remember this very clearly.  I was NOT happy.  There were tears.  LOTS of tears! Perhaps even a temper tantrum?

Why was I upset?  Well, my parents were leaving.  Here I am, only 5 years old, and they were heading out of the door suitcase in hand leaving me behind!  This seemed to be taking place in the afternoon or early evening.  I was sitting on one of our blue couches, being miserable, and tears are streaming down my face as the babysitter (maybe there was more than one?) was trying to comfort me.  I was not happy to be left alone with them.  I was told Grandpa and Grandma would be coming (I think).  That was going to be HOURS away.  All I know was that I was upset they were leaving me.  I don’t remember much else that happened after they walked out the door leaving me to my misery.  (Perhaps there was consoling with Kraft macaroni and cheese and hot dogs?  I can only speculate…)

Now, I do remember spending that morning (or a morning close to that time) at the doctor’s office with my Mom.  She was going to have a baby.  I am not sure what I really thought about this, except that it was something that everyone felt was very exciting.  I was going to become someone called a “Big Sister”.  I guess that sounded ok.  Babies were ok, but I did not have much experience with them being an only child up to this point.  (Actually, given the circumstances of my own personal entrance into this world, it is a miracle that my parents actually considered having another baby.  But that is a story for another time…).  

The downside of Mom having a baby was that her tummy kept getting bigger, and I had a much harder and harder time crawling into her lap as time went on.  I remember sliding off of her knee (maybe I meant to do that???).  However, it was cool to feel Mom’s tummy jump.  Apparently that was the baby kicking in there.  VERY WEIRD! How did the baby even get in there anyway???  (Unfortunately Mom and Dad made the BIG mistake of telling me how the baby got in there.  That is truly a story for another time and only meant for those of you over the age of 40.  Ha! )

I really did not like the doctor’s office.  It smelled sharp and musty at the same time, and it was cold and the chairs were NOT comfortable.  They were way too big for a 5 year old.  Plus my Mom was in with the doctor for a very long time (well it seemed like an eternity to my five-year-old self).  I read my books.  They made me happy and kept my attention, but that even wore on.  I remember being nervous and excited and bored and fidgety. 

Well, then Mom appeared and she was very excited.  She said the baby was going to come very soon and we needed to get home right away and call Dad (or at least I think that was the gist of it).  I just felt the energy and excitement and the urgency of it all, along with feeling cramped and irritated after sitting in the doctor’s office being bored.  Now we seemed like we were rushing!  I remember taking one last look at the (perhaps fake) plants at the doctor’s office, and the memory goes dark. 

So, now back to the beginning where I am sitting on the couch blubbering and pouting.  I don’t remember much after that.  So, fast forward to the next day perhaps, where I am hand-in-hand with my Dad.  We are getting into the car, and he is telling me that we are going to meet my new brother!   I am feeling excited as we go to the hospital. 

Flash to a memory of me walking down the hall of the hospital hand-in hand with my Dad.  Everything is in shades of yellow.  Everyone is taller than me and walking around in white coats or drab green uniforms (doctors and nurses), or wandering around bewildered or with purpose (friends, family), or in wheelchairs (patients).  No one looks happy except my Dad.  He is happy so I try to be happy too.  Except mostly I am nervous.  What will this new baby be like?  Will I like the him?  Will he like me?  I am trying to see inside the doors and windows of the rooms we are passing, but I am too short.  I think we take an elevator.  The doors are metal and gray.  I like to press the buttons.  Everything smells clean and sharp and maybe like coffee? 

Finally we are walking down a hallway.  My Dad stops and says, “Here we are.”  I just see a wall and the lower edge of a window.  My Dad picks me up and I peer into a room full of babies.  They are all in glass cube things with white blankets.  Some have blue hats, some have pink.  Dad points and says, “There is your brother, Greg.”  I see that he has a blue hat.  The nurse wheels his cube over so we can have a better look at him.  He is tiny and sort of wrinkly.  His eyes are closed.  But I do notice that he has a tiny fist poking out from underneath the blankets.  Sort of like Super-man flying, I think to myself.  That is sort of cool.  I think I can probably like a brother like that I think to myself.

Later I get to meet him in person and he holds my index finger in his tiny fist as Mom rocks him.  I can’t remember if this was at the hospital or back at home.  Probably both!  He smells sort of sweet, like baby powder.  I remember asking myself how this little person ever fit into Mom.  Not much space to spread out.  However, he sure fit into our hearts very fast.  Despite the midnight crying and periodic diaper blowouts (another story), my brother made my heart a bit bigger by invading my five year old world. 

So that was the day that I met my brother.  From that point on, we were a family of four and I was learning my new role as “Big Sister”.   I instantly became his protector and to his likely irritation- tormentor, teacher, and second Mother.  (Granted he has dished some of that right back at me---more stories to come!!!)  But most of all, not only were we family, but we are friends- I hope the best of friends!    

I have so many more stories to share about growing up with Greg.  But those are stories for another time…