In a world deliciously removed from lectures and homework, and the nightly long distance telephone calls that always ended in sobs of sadness, we discovered the joie de vivre of life near the Ozarks of Missouri.
My pillsbury dough boy had arrived from Chicago for a long weekend. We stole away from the small private woman's campus that my father had sent me to, to keep me away from this beau of mine, and drove the country roads to the Little Switzerland of America- a quaint little town in Arkansas on a lake.
In a lodge nestled in the mountains we dreamed of the life we would live. Ah, so many dreams we shared that weekend. Recalling that priceless weekend I realize that the story would make a fabulous movie on the big screen.
I can still see Ted fishing into the hatchback of his economy car circa 1970's and drawing out the ancient and mysterious fishing tackle box that we found on a trail in the woods.
Someday perhaps I will write a screenplay about our adventure. It will surely touch the hearts of audiences everywhere.
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