I was riding the old Trailways bus, she  said.  It was August of 1958.  We were passing through A little town in Nebraska.  Dix was the name. It started to rain.  Not too hard at first.  But as happens many times the driver seemed to struggle more as we went along to keep the bus on the road.  Then We hit a tree that had fell across the road, and skidded into a field.  We seemed to be OK, but we all had to get off the bus.  The driver thought it might catch on fire or be a danger to us so off we went. The bus wasn’t full. Maybe 20 of us or so. Someone finally arrived with a school bus to take us to the Inn to wait for a replacement bus. The food was free and everyone seemed to be taking advantage of that.  I did too.  I ate some meatloaf.  It didn’t taste at all like mamas, but good just the same.  There was a jukebox there.  Some guys were feeding dimes into it for a while.  Then someone played that song  “Paper Roses”!.  Oh my. I couldn’t help myself. I started to cry.                                                                                                                                                                              The guy seated near me asked if I was alright.  Sure I said. It’s just that I was really scared about the bus and all.  Oh! He said.  I didn’t dare tell that nice young man the real reason for my tears.  I didn’t tell him that was “Our song”  I didn’t mention how he proposed to me, and then ran off with my best friend. I also failed to mention that mother was sending me to aunt Lucille’s. She thought if I worked in her beauty shop, I would forget him. I never did believe it would work though. Suddenly I had all this food in front of me, and found I wasn’t really hungry after all.  You look like you need a friend right now the nice young man said. Oh, I’m fine I protested.  With all due respect, he said No, you’re not fine.  Are you?  After what seemed like a few minutes of silence, I confessed. OK I’ve got problems. I said. Me too he said. I bet if you were to interview all these people in this room, not one will say they don’t have any problems. And if anyone did, they are a liar!  You’re right, I’m being a baby about it I said. Well you are in luck he said. I just happen to be a very good listener, and I have lots of time on my hands. So in a very out of character act, I poured my heart out to this young man with the kind face and easy manner.                                                                                                                           I found out his name was Earl. He was going to California to get a job. He had just graduated from college.  We talked and talked.  Finally some one announced that the replacement bus was here.  We sat together on the bus and with each mile I wished the bus would slow down so we could sit here together and talk some more.  Finally we came to my stop. I gave him my aunts phone number at the shop.  I felt an actual pain in my heart as I got off the bus and watched him ride away.  I didn’t hear from him, and I thought maybe I was being silly anyway so I tried to put that experience out of my mind. Then one day after work on Saturday, I was just about to close the shop when who knocked on the window but Earl. I practically broke my neck to get to the door, this all for someone who I”wasn’t interested in anyway”. He told me how he washed his pants with my phone number in them, and didn’t know my last name to look me up in the phone book. So after he saved enough for the fare, he just came back here to ask about me and was told by the mechanic where I worked.  I don’t remember much after that.  I do however remember thinking that he wasn’t going to get away from me again, and he didn’t.  We wrote up and back , we visited, and finally he asked me to be his wife.  As you are our granddaughter you know what happened after that.  But this is how we met.  Thanks to one stormy night in Nebraska,and a Beautiful old love song.