Our Story, Part 4: The Day After

Before we go on too much farther, I must point out a few facts. I had proposed to Denise. We had known each other for two years, but been dating less than two weeks. We had not yet kissed. We had not even yet held hands. I acknowledge that I put Denise in a strange position, having to make the single biggest decision in this lifetime about a guy with whom she had not gone through the traditional "get to know you" pattern.

I woke up the next morning more sure than ever that I had made the right decision. As promised, I went to the temple the next morning, and was pleased to spend a good amount of time in the Celestial Room. As I prayed, I got a very distinct impression that Denise would make a wonderful wife, and that this was a very good decision for me. I came home from the temple, changed, and felt obligated to report back to Denise. I fell asleep on her couch, and woke up when she came in, but I didn't get up. I figured if she wanted to talk to me, then she would come and talk, but I wanted it to be her decision. She obviously wanted a little space (having just failed a final), and took her time coming down to talk. When she came down, I reported on my temple experience. I don't really remember much from that conversation.

I do remember that I insisted that she decide for herself if this was right. You always hear the horror stories from BYU about some return missionary who receives revelation that he's supposed to marry some 19 year-old freshman, and tells her that he has made the decision for both of them. She feels like he's the spiritual one, so he gets to make that decision. THAT IS DEAD WRONG. Just because a guy and a girl are dating, or have feelings for each other doesn't give the guy any right to receive revelation for the girl (or vice-versa). I could know for myself that marrying Denise was right for me, but I had no right to know if marrying me was right for Denise. Only she could figure that out for herself, and I felt it was my responsibility to interfere as little in that process as possible.

In my mind, that meant not escalating the physical aspect of our relationship any farther than it had already been. Because of this, the next few weeks were slightly awkward. We spent a lot of time together. We talked a lot inside right up until midnight. After midnight, we would dutifully move our conversation to the front porch, where we would stay up well into the night, talking the night away.

Little did I know that Denise was saying to herself "This guy says he wants to marry me, but he certainly doesn't act like it. He won't kiss me. He won't hold my hand. How am I supposed to know if I want to marry him if he doesn't act like he wants to be close to me?"

Again, I admit that I put Denise in an awkward position.

For the record. This was the order of events:

First I proposed. Second we kissed. Third, she accepted the proposal. Fourth we held hands. Somewhere in there, we started dating steadily. While this order worked out well for us, we won't recommend it for our children.

Next Post: Part 5: Deborah

Our Story, Part 3: The Day Before Finals

It's usually pretty easy to tell when the day when the missionary calls are going to come. The Missionary Department at the Church Office Building sends all the new calls off on the same day, so if you know anyone else who has received a call recently, just ask them what day it came. Yours will come on the same day, usually with the same turn-around time. This was the case with Denise. We were expecting it to come on the day before finals, and it did.

After I knew the mail had come (and after spending all night long thinking about Denise), I called over to her apartment to see if her call was there. I talked to Lindsay (aka Lindsay Pants). She said the call was there. I asked if I could come over and hold it. She didn't object.

I remember very vividly holding my own call in my hands freshman year at BYU. I didn't open it right when I got it because Deborah was going to get hers the same day, and we had planned on opening them together. I remember thinking how two whole years of my life were in that large packet addressed from the Office of the First Presidency. Two whole years all on one small sentence that started: "Dear Elder Bjarnason, You have been called to serve in the..."

I wanted to hold Denise's mission call, knowing that 18 months of her life was in that packet.

I went over to her apartment. Lindsay and I joked about steaming it open, but of course we didn't. Lindsay asked me what I thought about Denise going on a mission. I told her I thought it was great. Denise was going to be a great missionary wherever she went. Lindsay looked me in the eye, and said "No, what do you really think?" I instantly knew what she was getting at. Somehow she had seen into my heart and knew what I had been thinking about only the night before, ... but how? How could she know? I stammered for a few seconds, completely taken aback that she had figured it all out in such a short period of time. How could she possibly know? And yet, I knew she did. I changed the subject and left, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn't tell Denise.

Later that night, we gathered at Denise's apartment for the opening of the call. We must have packed 50 or 60 people into that small apartment. It was full. Denise opened the call and announced to everyone that she had been called to serve in the Brazil, Goiania Mission. We looked it up - right in the middle of the country. I was happy. Denise was headed to South America. She would largely have experiences very similar to my own.

After everyone dispersed, her family headed off for ice cream, and I got invited along. Denise and I took her car. On the way there, she nonchalantly said "Lindsay says you have something you want to talk to me about." I was floored. Now, not only was my fears about Lindsay knowing totally confirmed, but I also knew that she must have told Denise, and that Denise was expecting some sort of a marriage talk that night. Obviously nervous, I told her that I didn't think we should talk about it on the way to ice cream. Denise seemed confused, but agreed to wait until after ice cream was over.

I spent that hour or so fretting over how to approach the topic. After ice cream, Denise asked me where I wanted to go. I tried to think of somewhere quiet, where we wouldn't be disturbed. We headed to the parking lot of Seven Peaks, a water park in Provo. There in the parking lot, I hemmed and hawed and tried to talk about other subjects. Finally Denise said "What is it Ronny? Just spit it out." I did. Out came: "Denise, there are only three girls in my life that I've ever thought I would be able to marry. The other two are married. You're number three." At that point I think we were both too shocked to realize that I had just said something really stupid. (I later watched the movie "The Bachelor". Chris O'Donnell did the same thing.)

Denise asked me if I would wait for her. I told her no. A few days later, I explained that I didn't think it was appropriate for missionaries to have split loyalties, and that meant not having anyone waiting for them. At that time, I realize now that I probably came across a bit insensitive. Denise asked me what I was going to do about this. Having already been chastised for beating around the bush, I quickly came up with a plan and told her that I would go to the temple the next day to find out if this was right for me. I also explained that she would have to figure out if it was right for her on her own.

We ended up talking for a long time that night - probably two or three hours. After it was all over, she went home and woke up her mom, insisted that she be sitting up, and told her what had just happened. She included the part on exactly how I asked, and her mom was very quick to point out how stupid I sounded (Thanks, Terri). Denise's mom confirmed that Denise started finals the next day (Denise would fail that class), and insisted that Denise get some sleep. Denise didn't think this was very helpful advice.

Next Post: Part 4: The Day After.

FYI: Lindsay has absolutely no recollection of the part she played in tonight's story.

Other memories from Freshman year:
- going ice skating with Ben's ward (why I didn't attend church meetings)
- playing Rook while waiting for the midnight movie
- playing Rook until dawn in Ben's dorm
- playing Rook in the girl's dorm (not until dawn)
- first impressions of me (mostly after seeing me play Rook)

Our Story, Part 2: The Week Before Finals

Actually, I'll go back a bit farther. I lived in an apartment with six guys: Ben, Dave, Branton, Eero, Parry and myself. In the springtime of 1998, 4 of those 6 were married. Parry and I remained the lone men in the apartment. I had had a girlfriend, but we had broken up in February(?). Parry and I were great friends, but we never really hung out much, so with all of my other roommates (Ben mostly) off doing other things, I found myself hanging out a lot at Denise's apartment. I would go over to talk with Denise mostly. If she weren't there, I was really good friends with her other roommates, and it wasn't awkward for me to hang out with them, either. I remember that I was at Denise's apartment for the entire Conference Weekend in April. It was then that I realized exactly how much time I was spending with Denise.

Denise was a very safe person to be spending time with. She had put in her mission papers a few weeks earlier, and was expecting a call any day. Ben and I had taken it upon ourselves to set up a betting pool to determine where she was going to go. Because we set it up, we gave ourselves two guesses, one stateside guess, and one foreign guess. We both agreed that if she went stateside, that she would go to Temple Square - because that's where they send all the good-looking sisters. My foreign guess was Santiago Chile. I even had a dream in this period that Denise got her call to San Jose, Chile (which isn't a mission). At any rate, I knew Denise would be a great missionary, and was very excited for her to get her call.

About a week before finals started, Denise had to find a date for an "End of the Year Party" for American Fork Rec. They were having a nice sit-down dinner at Mulboons, and they had threatened to set her up with someone if she didn't get a date for herself. Denise had gone out with Ben a few times, but because he was engaged, she took me. I was happy to go, and had a really good time. I got a Salmon Salad, which was about three times as big as I could eat - but it was great.

That same week, I had tickets to the BYU Dance production that they have at the end of the year. It has a name, but I can't think of it right now. I had purchased the tickets at the beginning of the semester, when I had a girlfriend, but now I needed a date. Fortunately for me, Denise needed to go for a class she was taking, and the tickets were all sold out, so she went with me. Still later in the week, Denise scored an extra nosebleed ticket to see a Utah Jazz game (courtesy of American Fork Rec). That's the one and only Jazz game I've ever been to. The Jazz won.

Denise and I had gone out on a date once in the past (to see the movie "Hercules" in the theater), but essentially, these were our first dates. We went from nothing to three dates in a week.

People started to take notice. They would ask "What's going on between you and Denise?". Of course, they didn't realize that the three dates we had gone on were just pure coincidence - three perfet examples of needing to fill one extra seat, and finding someone at the last minute (not that anyone was complaining). But, not realizing this, it was natural for them to suspect something was up, and to ask questions. After all, this was a BYU singles ward.

It got to the point that two days before Finals started (Wednesday night?), my sister, Deborah asked me what was going on. I was a little tired of explaining to everyone that nothing was going on at all, but I explained one more time - "Nothing is going on. Denise has a mission call. She is going to go on a mission."

That night, Dave and Branton had a long discussion on purchasing rings. Ben and I listened in. Branton had worked some family connections to get rings wholesale, and would wholesale prices to any of his roommates. At the end of the discussion, Dave put a little pressure on me. He asked the now popular question "What's going on between you and Denise?" I gave him the standard answer "Nothing - she's going on a mission." He wouldn't let me get away with that. He pushed father - "Do you think something could happen?" I responded "Sure, I guess when she gets back." He insisted "If you think something could happen, you owe it to her to talk to her about it before she leaves." I told him that I wasn't going to bring it up because SHE WAS GOING ON A MISSION. He made me promise that I would talk to her if I thought something could happen between us. I promised, all the while thinking that my fulfillment of the promise would be me shaking her hand at the airport and saying "We'll see what happens when you get back." In my mind, that was going to take care of that.

What happened instead, was that I stayed up all night long thinking about Denise and I. Over and over again, I kept thinking how much fun we had, and how much fun we would have for the rest of our lives if we were to get married. I hadn't really thought about Denise in that way before that night, but I liked it. That night I determined that Denise was definitely someone that I could spend the rest of my life with.

Next Post: The Day Before Finals

Other memories from BYU:
- Denise tricks Ben into taking her out

Our Story - Part 1

This is the first post of the story of how Denise and I got engaged. There's now way I can tell the whole story in one sitting, so I'll get started now, and finish it soon enough. The disclaimer to this post is the same as every other post. You can't argue with the story, because this is how I remember it. If you remember it differently, then you can write it in your own blog (or make a comment to this one).

Denise and I lived in the same ward for 2 years at the Colony (Yes, the same Colony from the now infamous "Rumble in the Colony"). The Colony was located on both sides of 750 E. from approximately 3ooN to 500N. There were two wards in the Colony. One ward was made up of apartments on the west side of 750E (our ward), and the other ward was made up of the apartments from the Other Side of the Street (OSS for short).

Our side of the street had the pool and the manager's apartment. The men's apartments were all south of the pool. The women't apartments were all north of the pool. Denise lived in the first women's apartment on the other side of the pool, so they (obviously) got the most foot traffic. That, combined with the fact that Denise and her roommates were really cool and fun to hang out with, and there were always guys in Denise's apartment.

For the second year I was there, I lived in the last guy's apartment before the pool, so we were closest to the women's apartments. Unfortunately for us, this did not, however, translate into our apartment always being full of girls. Maybe it had something to do with our apartment's reputation as being full of guys who "never quite got off their missions". Yes, we were the guys apartment who agreed at the beginning of the year to keep the rules, including kicking girls out at midnight (much to their dismay at times).

What I remember about Denise most is that I would see her on my way to campus (walking up 700N towards the McDonald Health Center), and I would turn around and walk her back to the Colony so I could talk to her. Denise was a lot of fun. I really enjoyed talking to her, and never minded being a little late.

What Denise remembers about me (one of the things at least) is the nickname her apartment had for me. I wasn't the only one. Her apartment had nicknames for most of the regulars. Some of the other nicknames: Desperado, Oswald, Touchy Darrin, and she will have to tell you the others. My nickname: "Little Ronny". The other story I know from their apartment is that one night they were all having some sort of discussion, and it was decided that I would someday make a great husband and father to some lucky girl. Apparently none of them took the decision too personally (as will be demonstrated in future posts).

I got to know Denise because I hometaught her roommate and because we were in the same Family Home Evening group one year- although I rarely came because I worked custodial 5 days a week from 5-9pm. I was a diligent home teacher and took advantage of getting my foot into the door of the apartment of 6 very cool women, and I got to be good friends with almost all of Denise's roommates. (This came in handy later on).

Next post: the week before Finals.

Other memories from BYU:
- tape games for custodians
- being a semi-professional chess player
- stuck in the trunk outside the Bean Museum
- watching videos outside the Bean Museum
- Phontaine and Jenny Dean go to the movies

Andy Stockoff comes to play

Aaron and I are only 22 months apart, and we were both especially competitive growing up, so I guess it's normal that we would end up competing against each other. One of our favorite summer events growing up on Azusa Court was whiffle ball.

We would take turns batting from the grass next to the front door and pitching from the grass next to the sidewalk. I think we kept score: a single if you could bat it onto the street, a double if it reached the street without bouncing, a triple if it bounced to the other side of the street, and a home run if the ball reached the far sidewalk without bouncing. There were foul balls. Three strikes counted for an out. Three outs changed the sides. The score was never the point.

The focus was the pitching duel. Aaron was the master pitcher. He had one pitch that he would throw sidearm. It would sit on the grass all the way up to the plate and then at the last instant jump up into the strike zone. It wasn't that I couldn't hit it. It was more that I never tried. I was always convinced that it would eventually dive into the dirt, even though I must have seen it hundred of times.

One summer day, Aaron and I were out playing whiffle ball, and Brother Stockoff came over with Andy, his three-year-old son (maybe four?). Brother Stockoff had played American Legion ball, so we knew Andy would have already had his share of exposure to batting, so we let him in. We stepped up close to the plate and let him whack away at our pitches.

Time and time again, Andy would smack the ball way over our heads into the street. We were utterly amazed. Andy was some sort of baseball wizzard!! When Brother Stockoff was finished inside, he announced to Andy that it was time to go. We insisted that he watch his son perform this magic that we had discovered. Brother Stockoff watched as Andy again belted the ball with all his force. Calmy, he walked over to his son and said "Andy, you're left handed. You'll do better from the other side." He switched his son's hands, moved him to the other side of the plate, and sure enough, he was even better batting as a lefty, something Aaron and I weren't sure was possible.

Other Turlock memories:

- Brother Stockoff helps us start a Christmas tradition at Donnelley Park
- Modesto visits for a Cross Country meet at Donnelley
- the only Capture the Flag game anyone ever won
- 3am bagels
- Aaron and I not dying on our way back from the Perrett's
- hunting squirrells on the Perrett's land

Another story that needs to be told:

- Aaron as a campaign manager (Zwick for President!)

Always Stay Together - Lessons from the 50-miler

It seems like I have an entire lifetime of memories from the one and only 50-miler I went on as a scout. I think back on that week in the backcountry of Yosemite, and there were so many events that helped me better understand myself and the world around me. This is the story of splitting up.

I must have been 14, because Aaron was along, and he would have been at least 12. I was one of the older kids, and we hiked circles around everyone else on the hike. We were young and fast. The first few days of the hike went like this: Before we started hiking, we would all look at the map(s), find our trail, set a destination (usually the next fork), and start hiking. The fast group, (myself included) would hike as fast as we felt comfortable. We were a bunch of Type-A personalities, so we were really big into leaving as many people in the dust as we possibly could, and being sure to let them know we were faster than they were. On a typical leg, we would hike for an hour or so before we came to the predetermined resting point, ditch our packs and rest for an hour or so before the group gathered all together again. As soon as they got there, we would put our packs back on and hurry them along so that we could get back hiking as soon as possible. Now the slow group wanted a rest. They thought it was only fair that if we got a rest, that they should too. As far as we were concerned, they had been taking their rest for the entire hike, so they weren't in need of any more.

Most of the leaders (my father included) decided that this wasn't working as well as it could, so they devised a plan to help us all out. The plan was this: We would divide into two groups, A and B. Group A (the slow hikers) would wake up at 6am, fix a quick breakfast, and get hiking before group B even woke. Group B would spend the day trying to catch them. Personally, I thought it was a great plan. I looked forward to beating them to the next camping spot.

The note here is that the Cardinal Rule of hiking is this: THE SLOWEST MAN SETS THE PACE. This way your group stays together. Nevermind that we hadn't followed it the previous days. Now it was the adult leaders who were sanctioning the split.

The next morning I woke up and Group A were gone, according to plan. Of the three leaders, my father and Brother Coe went with the early group and Brother Payne stayed behind with the fast group. Aaron went with the slow group. In his defense, he could have stayed with us if he had wanted, but I think he enjoyed the time with Dad.

We got breakfast going and started putting our things away. It didn't take us long to realize that Derek Payne wasn't himself. In fact, he was just plain sick. He had the stomach flu and was puking all over the place. In normal circumstances, we would probably have stayed put for a day or two or plotted the fastest route back to civilization and taken Derek home early, or just camped out for another day or two while the sickness passed. With Group A out on the road, we had no option but to hunt them down as quickly as possible. With only one leader in our group, we weren't even able to give Derek a Priesthood blessing.

So off we went. Even if Derek hadn't been sick (and us carrying his load), it still would have been the hardest day of the trip. In had the highest elevation changes of the trip, including one particular long and steep climb that we referred to everafter as "Cardiac Hill". Derek puked on that hill a few times.

We never caught up to Group A that day. We camped near a ranger station, where we thought they would have stayed. We got up early that next morning, and after a few miles, we came across a recently deserted camp, with a note. The note was from our group. It said they waited as long as they thought they could and then broke camp and left. It noted a time that they had left, which was only a handful of minutes (20??) before we had reached their camp. We stuck our hand in their fire, which was wet, but still warm. Brother Payne showed me the map, told me to dump my pack, and run to catch the group and bring them back.

It didn't take me long to catch them without my pack on. I quickly explained the situation, and brought them back, where they leaders were able to give Derek a blessing before we continued on - this time as a group.

We had broken the first rule of hiking, and had all been taught why it's the first rule. There are strength in numbers. Keep your group together at all costs.

Other memories from the 50-miler:
- The 20-year rule (Dad sits me down for a talk)
- rescuing Craig Carl
- Brother Coe eats a frog
- carving walking sticks
- Craig Carl gets drenched
- skinny dipping
- Matt Mollard gets angry (he hikes better when he's mad)

Other scout memories:
- boner rock
- B.A.S. (where we saw the bares)
- first time on half-dome (Brother Fairbanks)
- rapelling into Moaning Caverns
- getting 'tapped out'
- trading t-shirts with a girl at Jambo
- idiot scoutmaster at Jambo
- Brother Mollard and the horse hike (Henry Coe State Park)