I wonder whatever happened to ...

Everybody does it, I guess. We tend to make friends early in our lives -- and then we go through many stages and changes, so that eventually we lose all contact with some of the people whom we knew well along the way.

Once upon a time, when I lived in Roswell, N.M., as a young college graduate, I met the girl, Leah, that I would marry. My wife and I moved into a duplex across from the east side of the park.

I had a brand new 1955 Bel Aire Sporte Coupe -- charcoal and coral. Across from the south side of the park, a young guy in the Air Force had a 1955 Ford Coupe that he was always washing or waxing.

One evening he was busy shining his car, and I stopped to talk to him. Turned out, we both loved our cars and had other similar interests -- such as fishing, arrowhead hunting, and exploring the countryside. As the friendship grew, my wife and I invited him -- Jim Hay -- over to eat cornbread and beans with us occasionally.

So it was one evening at the supper table that Jim confided to me that he had met a girl on a flight to Canada that he wanted to marry.

"How should I ask her?' he queried.

"Well, just hold her and ask if she would like to embark on the sea of matrimony with you," I advised.

A couple of weeks later, we invited Jim over for beans and cornbread.

"Well," he said, "I asked her if she like to bark on the sea of matrimony with me, and she said she would!"

Shortly after, we moved to a better house in another part of town, and Jim told us he was getting married in a few weeks in Canada and would be out of the Air Force and attending college in California soon.

After that, we didn't see Jim for years. We had built a new house and had four kids, when a station wagon drove up and Jim, his wife, and three kids piled out. Jim had majored in geology and was teaching at a college in Indiana. They all spent the night with us before continuing on their trip. Jim, like me, was the very much married man with responsibilities galore.

We waved goodbye, and that was the last contact we ever had. I sure would like to know more about his journey through the years, or rather, his barking through the sea of matrimony.

-- Louis Houston is a resident of Siloam Springs. His book "The Grape-Toned Studebaker" is available locally and from Amazon.com. Send any questions or comments to [email protected] or call 524-6926. The opinions expressed are those of the author.

Editorial on 09/10/2014