Memory lane: Tread cautiously

Usually a spouse's early life is pretty much a mystery, unless you grew up down the street from him or her, in which case you may wonder if it really is a good idea to marry this person. 


I did not grow up down the street from the Hero, so I was eager to get a glimpse into his early life when we went through numerous boxes of pictures, his childhood drawings, and yearbooks that had been in his mom's garage. 


There was a booklet of several pages of drawings and text stapled together. It appeared to depict a maniacal serial killer named Bigger. The sort of thing a student would be referred to a counselor about. 


"This is rather disturbing," I said cautiously.


He looked at it. "Didn't you ever read Native Son?"


"You mean it's a book? You didn't make this up?"


"No, it's a book report."


"Thank goodness for that," I said. Then another concern hit me. "Does this author's spouse know he wrote this disturbing book?"


There was also a book of assignments the Hero had completed in an early grade. One assignment was a list of things he believed in, which I have re-created here because it shows his amazingly mature understanding of spiritual things.


Things I Believe In
1. I believe in God.
2. I believe in that He created the earth and us.
3. I believe in Jesus.
4. I believe that Jesus died on the cross for us.
5. I believe in Heaven.
6. I believe in Bigfoot.
7. I believe in the Loch Ness Monster.


Below the list was a sticker showing a peaceful lake. It was unclear whether this was the Hero's rendition of Heaven, or where he believed the Loch Ness Monster resided. There was also a big green question mark from the teacher next to I believe in Bigfoot, although none next to I believe in the Loch Ness Monster. Presumably by that point in the list, she was not at all surprised. She probably thought, Next time, I'll tell them to stick to five things they believe in.


Further glimpses of the Hero's life in junior high were observed in his yearbook. Fellow students wrote sweet sentiments conveying their wishes for him, such as Joe, I hope you have a rotten summer and Joe, you are nice but please do not sit behind me in music next year.


There were several childish drawings, the origin of which could not be entirely determined. 


"Did you always write To Joe on your own pictures?" I said, glancing through several drawings.


"Hmmm, maybe someone gave those to me."


I picked up a drawing showing a house, sun, trees, etc. To Joe, From Catherine, it said.


"Who is Catherine?" I said.


"Oh, look at this one," he said, hastily moving on to the next picture.


Maybe some things are better left as mysteries.