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| Aunt Becky and Uncle Richard |
Uncle Richard stood behind the tripod he had set up in the living room. He carefully set his prized Hasselblad camera on top and turned the screw at the base to secure it. He then went into a half hour explanation of aperture and shutter speed and other photographer-talk. My brother George listened intently. I just stared at Dave.
I was an eighteen-year-old BYU freshman who had fallen head-over-heels in love with a first year law student, who also happened to be George's room mate. By Thanksgiving we were engaged, with a wedding date set for June. The three of us; George, Dave and I, decided to take a weekend trip up to Ucon, Idaho to visit our Aunt Becky and Uncle Richard. We could introduce Dave, and as an added bonus I could work on a project for my Physics of Light and Photography class. Uncle Richard was in his "photo phase" and had acquired a couple high end cameras, the ultimate one being that Hasselblad. I took this picture of George on that trip, developed it myself in the lab at BYU. I recall zero of what I learned in that class. But we do have this nice photo, and some sweet memories.
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| George plays a left-handed guitar. |
I loved introducing Dave to my family. And I was super proud of him, so I was kind of showing him off. That little house in Ucon, Idaho held my heart. I realize now that the place meant less than the people. When they moved, my love went to Ammon with them.
I don't recall much of what we did that weekend, besides taking photos and the sleepy lilting raspy voice of Uncle Richard explaining things I really didn't care to learn. What I remember most is this:
Just before we left to return to Utah, Aunt Becky asked me to join her downstairs. I sunk into that basement, down the stairway and into the family room like I had throughout my childhood. Aunt Becky patted the cushion on the couch next to her, inviting me to sit. There was an air of soberness and mystery, and I wondered what was up.
Aunt Becky held a little yellow bud vase, which had been filled with popcorn kernels. The top had been covered with Scotch tape, holding the popcorn safely in the glass receptacle. I smiled. I raised my eyebrows, and I smiled. Before she handed it to me she said something like this:
"I remember what it was like to be in love, and to have such strong feelings awakened, knowing that Richard was going to be my husband. You have a long time to wait before you marry Dave. We really like him, and we can see he really loves you. I want you to keep this popcorn in a prominent place to remind you that some things need to wait to be popped. And when the feelings start to get the best of either of you, just go pop some popcorn instead."
I still have that little gold vase of unpopped popcorn somewhere in my little can of treasures downstairs. At least I think I do. I never could bring myself to throw it away. It's a symbol of the tender love and devotion of my Aunt Becky. I felt like she was representing my mother, who lived a couple thousand miles away from me at the time. I felt like she was protecting the pure-hearted girl she knew dwelt deep inside me, and she didn't want us to make a mistake we might regret. It was a gesture based on love - for me, for the Lord, and for the family that would come to Dave and me.
