I loved English class, and was smitten by classmate Louise Hespen -- smart, cute, good dresser, and fun. It only took about three months to summon the courage to ask her out -- she demurred.
Years Later: Fast forward a whole bunch of years when a random thread of e-mail among classmates elicited a "Do you remember me?" e-mail from Louise. I did remember, and we started corresponding back and forth -- hadn't seen her or heard a peep from her since graduation, but it was clear we'd been living somewhat parallel lives in the interim -- both lived in Germany, both lived in California not all that far apart in the Sierra foothills, both loved San Francisco, opera, symphony, art, and the outdoors. Weird.
After learning Louise had lost her husband of 27 years some three years previously, and after months of e-mailing back and forth, we ended up back in our hometown of Bozeman by way of more serendipity -- I was helping my brother Al build out an art studio behind his house; she was there helping her Uncle Bill get over an operation.
First Date: We agreed to meet for lunch, and after three hours, knew we had an amazing amount in common -- spiritually as well as experientially.
After an impromptu kiss in the parking lot after that very long lunch, we decided to hang out -- seemed like a safe enough way to get better acquainted.
So the first "hang out" was a trip through Bridger Canyon over to Wilsall where there is a bar called The Bank Bar that is one of my favorites -- and unlike Bozeman, no ferns, no brass, no newly-arrived out-of- staters holding forth to locals about the locals' own state -- a generous pour and just ranchers talking about calves, hay, and the government.
It was one of those rare Montana winter days -- bright sun, cold air, no clouds. We drove through Bridger Canyon with its sharp, snow-covered ridges. In high school, the road was gravel and dicey -- now it's paved. That doesn't count as progress -- the increased traffic is coming from people with seasonal trophy homes that now occupy most of what was deer, elk, and moose habitat. But the views are still spectacular.
In my limited experience, women tended to bifurcate into two loose subsets -- ones up for adventure and the outdoors, and ones more at home in urban comfort and shopping malls. So when Louise sighed at the sight of the Wilsall-end of the Bridgers and leaned back into me on the front of my 4-Runner, and we soaked in the amazing view in the cold air, I knew she was one of "us" -- those who find pleasure in the silence and majesty that the far end of the Bridger canyon had temporarily managed to preserve in the face of all those encroaching trophy homes and trophy wives in Lexus SUV's that were oozing up the canyon from Bozeman. After a drink or two at the Bank Bar, we headed back to Bozeman -- it was starting to feel like that "soul mate" thing.
A week later and another drive, this time through Trail Creek from Bozeman to US HWY 89 in Paradise Valley in bone-chilling, freezing wind -- I wondered, "Would she buckle?" Damn, it was COLD. Nope -- she got out and walked along the road while I took the photo below -- "She's the real deal," I remember thinking, teeth chattering.
A few more trips together in the Montana winter -- no complaints, amazing appreciation for what we were seeing, and giving me time to adequately photograph what we witnessed -- it was unique for me. We talked about spirituality, music, art, nature, ecosystems (she knew her plants inside and out), and I knew this was right.
So when Valentine's Day rolled around, and we were still "hanging out" and having one of those astonishing winter blue-sky days in Yellowstone, I wrote this to her -- and set it in a bison trail through aspens that we saw on our way to Cooke City. She'd caught me at a low ebb, and it was okay with her. And she was way more than okay with me.
Brian Text and Photos. copyright GoinMobyle, LLC, 2008
