Homeward Bound Part 3: Lucas Comes a-Courtin'
When I was home for Christmas, Stacy, my baby sister (she's 21) received a visit from a gentleman caller. This gentleman was a good friend and college buddy of my other sister, Brenda, and he went by the name of Lucas.
The two had met at the wedding of mutual friend and apparently had hit it off. And every phone call to Brenda or the folks for the next two weeks began, "So did you hear about Stacy and Lucas?"
"Who the hell's Lucas and what did he do to my sister?"
"Lucas Porter," said Brenda.
"Oh," I replied, relieved. "I never knew that guy had a first name."
The whole family was abuzz over them. Stacy never went to college and still lives at home, and in steps Lucas with his Masters degree in agriculture, good manners, and my happily married other sister to vouch for him, and expectations soared higher than a crying child's balloon.
The only catch was that Lucas lives in Montana--a long way from my family's house in Nebraska (it's sad I have to say that, but every day I run into people in Florida who have no idea where the hell Nebraska is--I've met more than a few who think it's on the west coast--but I digress). They gave it the ol' college try, though. They wrote, emailed, called, telepathized, whatever. Finally Christmas rolled around--the perfect excuse for a meet-up.
After visiting his family in Kansas (that's only 1 south of Nebraska if you're scoring at home), Lucas and a dozen roses paid my family a visit. Stacy, whose temperment alternated between goofy and furious, was positively giddy to see him. They exchanged gifts; he brought the flowers and some pleasant girl items, she gave him a circular saw. It was adorable.
They were getting along famously. So much so that somebody thought it was a good idea for Lucas to meet the family. Not just the folks, but the whole FAM-DAMLY. Grandparents, uncles, cousins even I didn't know the names of, and a few people no one had ever seen before. They all wanted to meet this mysterious man from Montana who had some sort of interest in my youngest sister. It later dawned on me this potential fiasco probably counted as their second or third date.
To his credit, Lucas handled the situation like a champ. The meeting, the greeting, the questions; oh, the questions! "So what is it you do up there?" "What do you do with a Masters in agriculture?" "How long have you known Stacy?" His countenance betrayed none of what we later found was a borderline panic attack. As we pulled out of the driveway and went home, Brenda remarked, "Yes, Lucas, they're in there judging you right now."
A couple days later he took his leave. Less than a month later, Lucas and Stacy broke up at his suggestion. The distance got the better of them, I guess. I'm in a distance situation myself, actually, though nowhere near as far. Yet his position is quite understandable. Though if he could withstand the Ferris family gauntlet, I'd wager he can probably handle just about anything.
The two had met at the wedding of mutual friend and apparently had hit it off. And every phone call to Brenda or the folks for the next two weeks began, "So did you hear about Stacy and Lucas?"
"Who the hell's Lucas and what did he do to my sister?"
"Lucas Porter," said Brenda.
"Oh," I replied, relieved. "I never knew that guy had a first name."
The whole family was abuzz over them. Stacy never went to college and still lives at home, and in steps Lucas with his Masters degree in agriculture, good manners, and my happily married other sister to vouch for him, and expectations soared higher than a crying child's balloon.
The only catch was that Lucas lives in Montana--a long way from my family's house in Nebraska (it's sad I have to say that, but every day I run into people in Florida who have no idea where the hell Nebraska is--I've met more than a few who think it's on the west coast--but I digress). They gave it the ol' college try, though. They wrote, emailed, called, telepathized, whatever. Finally Christmas rolled around--the perfect excuse for a meet-up.
After visiting his family in Kansas (that's only 1 south of Nebraska if you're scoring at home), Lucas and a dozen roses paid my family a visit. Stacy, whose temperment alternated between goofy and furious, was positively giddy to see him. They exchanged gifts; he brought the flowers and some pleasant girl items, she gave him a circular saw. It was adorable.
They were getting along famously. So much so that somebody thought it was a good idea for Lucas to meet the family. Not just the folks, but the whole FAM-DAMLY. Grandparents, uncles, cousins even I didn't know the names of, and a few people no one had ever seen before. They all wanted to meet this mysterious man from Montana who had some sort of interest in my youngest sister. It later dawned on me this potential fiasco probably counted as their second or third date.
To his credit, Lucas handled the situation like a champ. The meeting, the greeting, the questions; oh, the questions! "So what is it you do up there?" "What do you do with a Masters in agriculture?" "How long have you known Stacy?" His countenance betrayed none of what we later found was a borderline panic attack. As we pulled out of the driveway and went home, Brenda remarked, "Yes, Lucas, they're in there judging you right now."
A couple days later he took his leave. Less than a month later, Lucas and Stacy broke up at his suggestion. The distance got the better of them, I guess. I'm in a distance situation myself, actually, though nowhere near as far. Yet his position is quite understandable. Though if he could withstand the Ferris family gauntlet, I'd wager he can probably handle just about anything.