A love story and brown eyed girl
Hey, where did we go?
Days when the rains came
Down in the hollow
Playin' a new game
Laughin' and a-runnin', hey, hey
Skippin' and a-jumpin'
In the misty morning fog with
Our, our hearts a-thumping and you
My brown-eyed girl.
That song (Brown Eyed Girl) and those lyrics by Van Morrison would become my and Sheila’s theme song; Lynn Routzahn would sing it to us often.
In was the end of October 1964, the air was chilled. and winter lay waiting for me just down life’s path.
On this gentle night the Hunter’s moon was full, and the local Ruritan club in Frog Hollow had scheduled a Halloween hayride for the youth of Dargan and Antietam. I dressed in my jeans and flannel shirt and headed for the Ruritan building.
I was sipping a cola in the corner when a girl named Susan came up to me and said, “that girl standing over there wants to go on the hayride with you.”
I was surprised and went over to say hello. Immediately I noticed her ‘big brown eyes’; her name was Sheila Knight and she lived in Antietam; we were so very young.
We became instant friends and before long were snuggled in the hay in the back of the wagon. I think she liked my flannel shirt; she gave me my first kiss.
At Boonsboro High we nurtured our relationship, but upon my graduation in 1966 I enlisted in the Army. Vietnam was underway and Uncle Sam needed some help. After boot camp, I went to Fort Knox for a few months and in August 67 I got orders for Vietnam.
I was allowed a brief leave home. Sheila and I renewed our special bond; the hayride was always in the rear-view mirror of my 56 Mercury; and those brown eyes were in my dreams.
I would soon be off, destination Long Binh, Vietnam.
Before leaving I wanted to see Sheila, but was not sure what her parents might say; she was not yet 16 years old and I was a boy from Dargan.
I phoned Sheila and asked if I might see her before I left and her mom approved.
I went to Sheila’s home and we had a very nice visit. Her mom Ethel was very kind to me and her dad Leon, a fine man himself, wasn’t at home.
It was time to go and I bid Sheila and her mom goodbye. Years later Sheila told me that her mom said, “I wish I would have left that boy stay longer”.
Our story would continue when I returned from Nam in August 68; we were married on the first day of winter, December 21 of that same year.
Since then, we have been on a magic carpet ride, far beyond that hollow. Amy, our daughter, was born at Fort Lee, Virginia, in 1969; she was quite the prize and our family settled in Antietam.
Our life’s chapters have been enchanting. Each one filled with so much happiness, adventures, people and places beyond one’s imagination. It was like a fairytale.
‘We had it all, just like Bogie and Bacall’.
But with happiness in life there are always tears to be had. As Kahlil Gibran suggested in his poem ‘A tear and a smile’ both seem like spiritual kin. After examining those peaks and valleys of his own life, the Poet simply concluded; ‘I would rather my life remain a tear and a smile.’
And so, it was with Sheila and I.
But as time passes, one’s memory does too, and a loved one begins that long journey home.
Our house would be no different than many others; the lights would dim; Sheila’s memory would fade, and soon she had difficulty remembering even Amy and I.
Amy would comfort and sing to her mom throughout this dreaded ordeal. Sheila would sing the chorus of a favorite song, Mr. Sandman, until the words left her.
As the disease slowly progressed, I slept in a recliner at the foot of her bed.
Sheila would eventually leave us.
I was left behind to fondly remember that fun ‘hollow’ where we would ‘play, laugh, skip and jump with our hearts a thumping’.
And as I gave Sheila one final kiss, I thought of those two lines from Dr. Seuss that might help console Amy, myself and all of Sheila’s friends in her passing:
“Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened”
We’re smiling here Sheila, but missing you terribly!
Now fly away to that sweet ether, my beautiful brown eyed girl; Tara will greet you there.
‘We love you the most, ‘Always have ~ Always will’
And when my life is over, I will come look for you.
Pete Waters is a Sharpsburg resident who writes for The Herald-Mail.
This article originally appeared on The Herald-Mail: A love story and brown eyed girl
