When we last left off, I was about to make “the call” for one last effort at a date with Mr. Whitaker.
Thankfully, when I made the call and nervously asked Scott to our sorority’s formal, he said, “Yes!” We enjoyed a pre-formal dinner date with some other couples. I also feel obligated to tell you that you should never curl your bangs like that. Ever.
The formal was lovely. We ended the evening by going to Midnight Yell Practice and shared our first kiss – three months after we first met. Does that even happen anymore? On the way home, we played a little Mission Impossible near the Academic Building with my best friend and her date. College kids. Scott stopped by my dorm room a few days later, on the last day of the semester, and wished me a merry Christmas. This is proof that selfies have been around a long time.
And that was that. I was really quite sad that no phone numbers were shared but I powered onward and spent the holidays in my hometown. A few days before Christmas, a sorority sister of mine invited me to Dallas for the Cotton Bowl, played on New Year’s Day. I immediately said yes and made plans to go. As providence would have it, my home phone rang later that day. Scott had spied my dad’s name on the credit card I used at the winter formal, called information and hunted down my home phone. Ladies, I believe we call that the good ‘ol days. I was so touched he went to all that effort to track me down. Ah, life before Google.
He said he had an extra ticket to the George Strait concert in Dallas on New Year’s Eve and wondered if I would accompany him. Um, that’s a yes. I stayed with a sorority sister, enjoyed the concert and was elated that a nasty ice storm left him stranded at my girlfriend’s house. Her dad insisted he stay because the roads were so icy. If not for Mr. Nagle, there might not have been a Scott and Kathryn. That weekend sealed the deal and we officially started dating. And, yes, in case you’re wondering, Mr. Strait was just fantastic in concert. Our shirts, however, were not.
My dad and brother drove down to San Antonio for a choir competition a month later and Scott and I met them there. I believe my dad said Scott almost shook his hand off. We dated for 3.5 years and on New Year’s Eve in 1995, in the same place where George sang his heart out, Scott proposed and asked me to be Mrs. Whitaker. Someday I should write that story out.
I always like to remind people that I met and fell in love with Scott long before he became a yell leader. What can I say. I know how to pick ’em. I don’t, however, have a career in cosmetology. That perm! Hey 1993. But that boy in the ultimate uniform? Winner.
We were married on July 27, 1996, just a few short weeks after college graduation.
Happy anniversary, Mr. Whitaker! Here’s to 19 pretty amazing years. They haven’t been without heartache and tears, joy or sorrow, adventure or the mundane. But every one of those years have been wrapped in faith and I’m grateful to have you as my husband. Here’s to 19+19+19 more!