Evie's First Visit To New York, According to Girl

Evie’s first visit to New York according to Girl: United Airlines was happy to have me on that big silver bird that day, I was so very excited to be leaving the great state of Michigan, with the lake effect overcast days, and endless waves of clouds and dreariness.

My mind raced as I realized that I was about to take off. Back in the 60s the stewardesses were nice, they were impeccably dressed, nails painted, with sparkling white teeth behind their Miss America smiles. They were there to offer me tea, coffee, donuts or whatever my heart desired.

It did not matter what they were offering because my heart desired someone 700 miles away in New York. I could picture him waiting for me to get off that plane. As the jets started their typical noisy winding up, my heart was winding up as well. I sat back in my seat. I am sure I had a big smile on my face, as I allowed the rush of the runway takeoff to take my breath away. I was ecstatic. First the front of the plane lifted off, then the rear. As the plane continued to climb to the top of the clouds I felt my heart lose touch with the mundane of Michigan. I was ready to start a new adventure.

Mom and Dad were wonderful parents, but when I got to be 20ish, I knew it was time to make my own life. I packed lightly, because I did not want to have to explain where I was going. I parked my 1965 buttercup yellow mustang at the airport, pulled out my bag, wearing the brown boots that matched my medium length "unstyled" brown hair, denim jacket, and all of the mascara and eyeliner that I could possibly put on. That was my style. I knew that New York and I would hit it off just fine. It was, after all, the days of flower children—happy little kids, not wanting to quite grow up, but, wanting all of the fun that grownups have. That defined me pretty well.

The two hour trip from Grand Rapids to LaGuardia went much too slowly for me. I needed to see my guy. He was so very intriguing—a brilliant scholar, and very cute. And, he was from South Haven (Michigan).

I remembered that an acquaintance had once told me that South Haven is known for really cute guys—and she was right. Mike was tan, tall and handsome. He was very opinionated. He knew what he liked, and what he didn’t like. He could discuss politics, good books, writing, religion, and he had a lot of just practical knowledge. Once he even took the plumbing apart at a hotel just to retrieve my contacts (but that’s another story).

Mike and I just hit it off. He could make me laugh. We could sit by each other for hours and not say a word. We liked the same things—corny movies, popcorn, pizza, Perry Mason, and just about everything else.

We had been writing feverishly back and forth for the past year. Sometimes the letters were goofy, sometimes they were serious; but they were all "really missing you" letters.

It was a long year to be away from each other. The days of undergraduate school were gone for both of us—I had spent the past year working third shift in a factory, and Mike had been granted a graduate fellowship to attend New York University.

I liked to work, but that job did not excite me. The company I worked for did send me to soldering school. When I finished my training my first job was soldering circuit boards for the landing gear on Lear jets. Wisely, when my supervisor discovered that too many of my soldering joints were a mess, he transferred me to a clean room, third shift, no supervision, welding and sandblasting under a microscope.

It was nice to be trusted and on my own; however, I did not want to spend the rest of my life there. Most of the other women in the factory were wrinkled smokers, divorced and unhappy. Their life at the bar after work was all they got up for. That was not for me. So I worked hard, saved money, and put in my time thinking about a better future. I would take my entire lunch and break time to compose almost a letter a night to my love. I would even paint flowers or hearts and decorate the envelope, using pink and green markers and ink to make that girly statement. Mike loved it, even if the post office and mailman found it hard to decipher where to deliver my letters.

With my memories of the past year whirling through my mind, all of a sudden I felt the plane descend. "Oh my gosh, it won’t be long now." The stewardess (now known as a "flight attendant") reminded us all to get back to our seats and make sure our seatbelts were buckled, because we would be landing in twenty minutes. The plane was slowing down and from my window seat (I have always liked the windows). I could see the skyline of New York, the Empire State Building, Yankee Stadium, and Central Park. There was no World Trade Center yet; but the granite and concrete of that big rock called Manhattan was getting closer.

LaGuardia, I later learned, was actually in Queens. I did not understand all the intricacies associated with the five-borough concept, the islands that made up the city, the government, the politics, the laws, the dangers or the wonderful ethnicity of this great city. I did not even notice that the landing approach at LaGuardia airport was built out over the water. And as I look back, it did not even worry me that it looked like we would be piloted into the drink. Nope, I was trying to picture what his expression would be when he first caught a glimpse of me.

The wonderful pilot landed the plane smoothly and we were allowed to exit the plane. Everyone was so very nice to me, probably because they could see I was in love and the world was a better place because of it. It seemed to me on that June day in 1968, nothing in the world could ever stop my determination to find my guy and follow my dream.

There was a line of people waiting for their loved ones. I looked for his green eyes and incredible smile when I got off the plane, but could not find him. I followed the signs to the escalator, and headed down. It was then that I saw him. There he stood at the very bottom, flashing his incredible smile and sparkly eyes. I am sure he had all this planned. He probably walked around looking for the most dramatic place to meet me. I knew when our eyes met, that our lives would from this point on be different—different and better.
If I had any doubts before, they were now gone. As our eyes met that day at LaGuardia, I knew we were both ready for a commitment, and that we both wanted to spend our time together—not 700 miles apart.