Love can come from the most surprising places.
When Cupid lets his arrow fly, the results can be unpredictable.
Childhood crushes are rekindled later in life. Longtime friends see their relationship blossom into something more. Chance encounters lead to lifelong commitments.
The Daily Journal asked for your greatest tales of passion and devotion, and you came through. In honor of Valentine’s Day, these are some of Johnson County’s best love stories.
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Bud and Cindy Boughton, Greenwood
By Bud Boughton
This is your traditional warm-your-heart, make-you-cry, boy-meets-girl-boy-falls-in-love-with-girl-only-to-be-separated-for-almost-three-decades-but-to-somehow-strangely-be-re-connected-some-27-years-later kind of love story! Doris Day would have killed for a movie script like this. And, as great as the story is, there is a bit of a Twilight Zone twist to it.
As fate would have it, I fell in love with Cindy Laughton in the first grade at Herbert Hoover Elementary School in Kenmore, New York, a suburb on the north side of Buffalo. When I saw her for the very first time, I swear, my heart skipped a beat.
Cindy and I ended up being “an item” (boyfriend-girlfriend) from first grade up through most of the eighth grade. We even were elected Duke and Duchess of the Junior High Coronation Ball at our junior high school when we were in the seventh grade. She was the very first girl I ever kissed and as kids go, we were sure we were in love.
But the pressures of high school can wreak havoc with even the greatest love stories. And so, we parted ways, hanging with different friends and crowds through our high school years. I don’t know that we even said “Hi” to each other as we passed in the hallways of our 3,300-student high school.
We graduated in June of 1969 and her mother, God bless her, tracked me down and insisted that she take a picture of Cindy and I together in our caps and gowns. We smiled for the picture and just like that, she was gone. I don’t remember ever really seeing Cindy after we graduated from high school in 1969.
Four years later, Cindy married a guy I knew, and I happened to marry a girl she knew. Ironically, we ended up getting married in the same church in Buffalo by the same minister almost six months apart to the day. We were now grown adults and had gone our separate ways in life.
Cindy and her husband were living in Rochester, New York, before moving to Greenwood, where her husband had relatives, in the mid-1970s. Their family grew to include four sons. Meanwhile, my wife and I had two boys of our own and after several moves in the Midwest we ended up living in Orlando, Florida.
The years passed and life went on for both of us. Strangely, but maybe not so strangely for the times, we both ended up weathering the storm called “divorce.” Never easy, never fun.
It was now 1996 and in yet another strange twist of fate, I would be coming to Indianapolis to do a speaking engagement for the then Indiana Community Bankers Association. Prior to making the trip to Indianapolis, an old high school friend who still lived in Buffalo shared with me in a phone call that Cindy was now divorced and was still living in Indiana. This guy knew of our past together as kids and he told me I really needed to look her up while I was in Indianapolis.
Look her up? I hadn’t seen Cindy since 1969. Some 27 years had passed since our high school graduation. Remember, it was 1996 — there wasn’t much of an internet presence not to mention Facebook or social media at that time. So, if I was going to connect with Cindy, I’d have to call her on the phone. How weird would that be? Would she even stay on the phone with me after I told her who I was?
Well, I made the call. As the conversation started it was a bit strange, but I told her I remembered her birthday was June 20, and since I would be in town on June 17 and 18, would she let me take her out for a birthday dinner? She said … ”Yes!” And so, the date was set and it would mark the beginning of what may be one of the greatest love stories ever (mildly opinionated!)
Two months after our dinner together in Indianapolis, we met in Buffalo for a long weekend. We went to restaurants we both knew from our past, spent a day at Niagara Falls, etc.
But the absolute highlight of our weekend was the visit we made to our elementary school. Once inside the school (it was locked up for summer break but I managed to find a way in), we were confronted by a custodian who wanted to know why we were even in the building. I briefly explained our past and as a smile came upon his face.
He gladly unlocked the door to our first grade classroom — Room 105 — where Cindy and I had met back in 1957. As I walked to the far side of the room looking at the little wooden desks and the green chalk boards at the front of the room, I couldn’t believe this was all happening.
And then I looked across the room at Cindy. As our eyes met, she smiled at me, and I knew then, at that very moment, that this had to be part of God’s plan for both of us. I also knew at that very moment that if I was ever going to get married again, it would be to Cindy.
After four years of long-distance dating (me in Orlando and Cindy here in Greenwood), we got married on May 6, 2000. Today, we are happily married and living in Greenwood.
Oh yeah, the Twilight Zone piece. Remember what did I say our wedding date was? Well, just two years ago, my younger brother in Buffalo had a neighbor come over to his house and give him a folded piece of paper stapled on one side that they had found when cleaning out the heating ducts in their house.
When they read the note, they decided to give it to my younger brother since they knew he had an older brother who was named “Buddy,” as that was my nickname when I was growing up. It just so happened that the house where the heating ducts were being cleaned out was where one of my very best friends lived when I was growing up.
The note, as it turned out, was written in 1961 by, yours truly. Never delivered, maybe out of shyness as a 9 year-old at the time, it was a love note I had written to Cindy. The note was dated May 6, 1961.
That’s right, I wrote that note 39 years to the day from which I would marry my precious Cindy.
Today, I am today a local author, having written three books and numerous articles and blogs, as well as a professional speaker. I also help coach the Franklin College football team and serve as the team chaplain. And yes, I am a very, very blessed man!
I love telling this story, so much that it embarrasses my wife, because every time I tell this story, people love it! And yes, I have evoked more than a few tears from both men and women (okay, mostly women) in telling this story.
——
Ashton and Mike Driscoll, New Whiteland
By Ashton Driscoll
My husband and I "met" while I was in college and he was stationed in Cuba with the Army.
We actually met online and started talking everyday; there was an instant connection. We talked online and gradually started calling everyday (he was constantly buying calling cards to talk to me).
We finally met in person five months later when he came home on leave for a week. We immediately started dating and continued our long distance relationship for two years before moving to Indiana together after I graduated and he got out of the Army.
It’s been six years since we first talked online and more than two years married. I was never one to believe in love at first sight, but he was the exception to that rule.
——
Cal and Diane Nelson, Whiteland
By Diane Nelson
In March of 1976 I met my husband Cal. He had just completed four years with the U.S. Navy. He returned to his parents’ home in Livermore, California awaiting the fall term of his first year in college.
He had gotten a temporary job working at Kmart to fill his days and make some money. His major was going to be in missionary aviation at Christian Heritage College in the San Diego area. At that time, I was a young nurse that had also returned to my parents’ home in Pleasanton, California.
I had previously been working at a 16-bed hospital in Monument, Utah, on a Navajo Indian reservation as a missionary nurse. Returning home, I was able to get a job at the community hospital in our neighboring town of Livermore. I was the evening charge nurse on a medical floor that primarily cared for "the older folks."
One night I received a call from my friend, the nursing house supervisor, that there was an admission that needed to come up to my unit to be admitted. He was to be a surgical patient but the surgical floor was full. The patient had been snow skiing in the Sierra Mountains, took a jump and fractured the orbit (base) where his one eye rested on.
I asked the supervisor if his admission could wait five minutes, so we could go home and then the new shift would do his admission. She said the ER was swamped and asked if I could do it as a personal favor to her. "Besides he is tall , dark and handsome," she said. It seemed that all of my married coworkers wanted me to find that special someone. I responded with, "I am not looking and bring him on up."
I let my staff go home and I decided to do the admission myself. A few minutes later he was wheeled up to his room. He had a big, swollen black eye. I introduced myself, "I am Miss Shiner, your nurse, and will be taking down your admission information." He quickly responded, "How do you like my shiner?"
Being a 20-year-old nurse working with older gentlemen, I frequently had to deal with inappropriate verbal responses (now called verbal or sexual verbal abuse). I instantly thought this guy is no different from the rest. Needless to say, my first impression was not good.
I then asked him, "Is that supposed to be funny?" He had no idea why I had become so curt to him. I pointed to my name tag — Miss Shiner RN. In all fairness, I will tell you his side of the story. He said he didn’t hear a word I said because he was too busy looking at this young, good looking nurse (his words not mine). He had been expecting a much older nurse. He apologized and we progressed with his admission.
I found out his plans to become a student in college with a missionary aviation degree. It intrigued me since I had just returned from being a missionary nurse. We found out that we both were Christians and shared a love of the Lord and people in general.
Being a U.S. veteran, Cal could have gone to the Veterans Administration hospital in Livermore but his private insurance through Kmart had kicked in that very day, allowing him to come to the community hospital.
He was on our unit two days, where he had surgery to repair the injury. That allowed us to get to know each other better. He had loaned me a book he had just read. I stayed up into the early morning trying to finish it so I could return it before his discharge the next day. I resigned myself to returning the book and buying another.
My coworkers wanted me to keep the book and give him my phone number.
"If you don’t give him your number we will," they said.
So with a lot of prompting, I did the unthinkable and gave him my number. He called me, I returned the book and he introduced me to his parents’ church. Cal had a girlfriend and remember I wasn’t looking. But in a few short months Cal got a "Dear John" letter, we got engaged and then married before the year ended.
Our church bulletin had an open invitation to the wedding that read, "Cal went into the hospital with one shiner and came out with two." Cal’s roommate in the hospital — a favorite, frequently admitted patient of mine — even attended our wedding. He told Cal, you better never break her heart.
Cal went on to seminary for his master’s degree; he found aviation wasn’t a good fit. He has worker for Wheeler Mission as their program director for many years. We were blessed with four wonderful sons. We have lived in three states but the longest in Indiana. We are Hoosiers by adoption.
We have supported each other in the good times and bad. Life can be so hard. Cal has had meningitis twice, our oldest son went to be with the Lord before he turned 2 years old, and we both received a cancer diagnosis two years apart.
We finally got wonderful daughters when our sons married consecutively in a three year period. We have seven fabulous grandchildren. I retired from nursing after 43 1/2 years.
Just last week, Cal and I talked about all that we have shared and that the Lord has brought us through. We agreed we wouldn’t have wanted to do it with anyone else. So many things had to line up for us to meet. I don’t believe it was luck. It was a planned divine meeting.
Happy Valentine’s Day my Cal, the best is yet to come!
——
Greg and Nancy Waltz, Greenwood
By Greg Waltz
Many years ago on Home Avenue in Greenwood, the Meier family had their little girl, Nancy. Three days later, and five houses away, the Waltz brought home their first little boy, Greg. We played together, and went to Central Elementary School (now Isom) together.
At Greenwood High School, we had a few classes together and even dated a few times. She was cute but kind of modest, so I teased her with small risque gifts and off-color cards.
After graduation, we went their separate ways. They had their own families, and I moved away from the area. In 1997, both of us were single and I asked my mom, who volunteered at the hospital where Nancy worked, to find out if she would be interested in talking with me.
So, on Christmas Eve, 1997, we got together for the first time since high school. On February 13, 1998, we got engaged.
Nancy and I were married on July 11, 1998, and have been happy together through good times and not-so-good times ever since. We love each other more each day.
I love you, Nancy, my beautiful wife.
