GOODBYE ANN
We were college classmates. MK and Ann were BYU semester-abroad roomies in Lyon, France, near Grenoble, during the 1968 Winter Olympics. The next year, Mitt married Ann and I married MK. Mitt and I joined Cougar Club about the same time. MK thought it would be fun to invite the Romneys to spend Thanksgiving with us in Idaho. So off we went.
My parents were pleased to have the Romneys come to their home for Thanksgiving dinner. They had known George and Eleanor Romney when they all were in Washington, D.C. in the 1930s. Our first Thanksgiving dinner of the day was with MK's family. They fed us well and within a couple of hours, we went to my parent’s home where we faced the dreaded double-dinner-dilemma. We were seated at the college-age end of the table next to my cousin and her husband who were attending the University of Utah. She was the head cheerleader and her husband was a big basketball star. Both Mitt and the basketball star were fine men and went on to become very successful attorneys, but that night they couldn’t find anything agreeable about one another. They kept passing the potatoes to each other when the crowing got out of hand. Ann was in the second trimester of her first pregnancy and was soon over-filled with potatoes and college rivalry jousting. We excused ourselves to return to MK’s parents' home.
The nine-mile trip back to Lewisville from Rigby was going along nicely. Our red 1967 Pontiac Bonneville was wide and roomy. Other than headlights, the Jefferson County countryside was mostly dark, punctuated only with the occasional home or farmyard lights. The Romneys were in the back seat and, oh surprise, I was telling them a story about Idaho. As we drove along, I was totally comfortable. The road was my friend, I had taken it hundreds of times going out to Lewisville to chase MK. The turn ahead banked to the right and the reflective yellow signs were marked with large black arrows pointing right. But I wasn’t going right. I was going straight ahead -- between the two arrows, briefly crossing the oncoming lane. Unless you had driven this road before, it was not apparent that there was a road continuing straight ahead between the arrows. Either you understood this road from previously driving there, or you didn’t. Of course, Mitt hadn't driven there before. We went between the signs, up over the banked curve in the dark. Ann gasped and Mitt put his hand on her knee, saying out loud, “Goodbye, Ann.” I realized that it must have appeared to them that I was taking them off the road and over the edge. A sigh of relief and nervous laughter followed when they realized that there really was a road straight ahead and that I was actually paying attention to what I was doing.
Mitt had reasons to be jumpy. A year or so earlier, in France, Mitt was at the wheel of a large Citroen when an inebriated Catholic priest coming from the opposite direction, crossed the center line and they collided head-on. One of Mitt's passengers, the Mission President’s wife, was killed. I can understand his being a little jumpy when it appeared to him that some completely distracted yahoo from Idaho was taking him over the edge -- he probably wanted to punch me in the beak. I feel the same way about Mitt today. As we see his lone wolf petulant politics, which makes him so adored by the liberal media, I feel Mitt is taking this country over the edge. Whenever we see his antics, I feel like putting my hand on MK's knee, saying, "Goodbye MK." But I'd have to catch her first and she is quite a bit faster than I am nowadays.
Ever vigilant,
RT
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