Having decided the next phase of my college would be
at Idaho State University, I had to say goodbye to my friends and move to
Pocatello. I coordinated this move with my parents. I got rid of stuff
including my car as I didn’t fancy the idea of driving around in the snow in my
Datsun 1200, and I could use the money. What I did not get rid of but couldn’t
take with my I stored at my parent’s house (thank you, parents). Then my
parents agreed to drive me the twelve-hour trip from Eugene to Pocatello (thank
you again). My parents got a hotel room for themselves, but I would be staying
at the track coach’s house along with the other incoming track and field
refugees.
My parent’s hotel was called Bidwell’s and it was just
off campus. They noticed that the owners of the hotel also owned an adjacent
building that had apartments that they rented out. They told me about it. We
checked them out and decided to take one. I was able to get out of my coach’s
house fairly quickly then, but my mom was pretty savvy about noticing what an
imposition it was having all these track athletes crashing at the house. She
bought some flowers to give to the coach’s wife. Later Coach Quiller told me
that had helped a lot. The implication was that those flowers were good for his
marriage.
I bought a bicycle to get around town (at least during
the non-snow months). I moved my meager belongings into the new apartment and
said goodbye to my parents. I was on my own. This was a big change for me,
leaving the comfortable confines of Eugene and all my friends. Apart from the
coach and his wife, I did not know anyone within a 400-mile radius. But that
would change. I would surely get to know my fellow track athletes quickly and
eventually my classmates.
One of the first things I unpacked was my stereo. If
anything was going to get me through the loneliness, it was music. I had a nice
component system: A Pioneer receiver, a Marantz turntable, a Teac tape deck,
and two big ESS speakers. My stereo was probably the most valuable thing I
owned. Hey, a person has to have priorities. As soon as the stereo was set up,
I turned it on. I probably played my new Pat Benatar album. Sometime that
afternoon, I heard a knock at the door. A pretty woman with long dark hair
smiled and introduced herself. She lived in the apartment above. She was
surprised to learn that the previous tenants had moved out. She requested that
I keep the music down after 9:00 at night because she had to work early before
going to class. She asked me what classes I was taking, and we exchanged a few
pleasantries before she went back up to her room. Wow! I met a girl! Her name
was Joyce. Eventually I wound up marrying her. So that all worked out.
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