My kids love to hear stories about when my husband and I were young. They can’t believe two such seemingly conservative, middle-aged people ever behaved foolishly nor had crazy friends. Ever watch re-runs of “That 70’s Show”? That comes kind of close to what our youth was like.
I attended the University of Georgia where I met my husband on Jan. 5, 1979; winter quarter of our freshman year. He had pledged a fraternity. In those days his fraternity house took in boarders to help make rent. One of his house-mates was a talented violinist from South America. His name was Flavio but we called him “Fluffy.” (Remember Fez in the TV sitcom? Fluffy was just as much a character.)
Frank and I first met Fluffy when we walked into the frat house’s kitchen one evening. Fluffy was attempting to cook eggs. Which would have been fine but he was cooking it on the side of a toaster, which was burning the kitchen countertop. Apparently he didn’t know how to use modern American appliances. His village was literally on the edge of a jungle. Frank and I intervened, pooled our change and bought him dinner; I think we got takeout from the Taco Stand.