The Bourne Identity
What an insane weekend! I went to no less than a funeral, a baptism, and a wedding reception, in the space of two days! It was like a movie starring Rowan Atkinson, but with less swearing and more pinball.
First of all, my great-grandpa Clayton Bollschweiler (aka Grandpa Bolly) passed away last week at the tender age of 99. That leaves only my Grandpa Petty alive as a male in a direct line from me who’s older than Ben, and his health isn’t doing too hot at the moment either. Grandpa Bolly was known as the “Whistler” and the man could do some amazing whistling feats. He even made a cheesy film where it’s just him in front of a camera with a train conductor’s hat on managing the “whistle stops,” which is basically him whistling to Lawrence Welk music and performing bad skits in between songs. They were so (probably unintentionally) funny that Casey and I ended up putting a reference to him in the first Pimp Lando movie. Even to this day, Casey calls the old 3D actor that we used for the part “Grandpa Bolly,” although he’d never met the actual Grandpa Bolly. I haven’t told Casey yet about his death; perhaps we’ll dedicate the next Pimp Lando in his memory, even though he knows less about Pimp Lando than Casey does about him.
Secondly, my cousin Walker got baptized. He’s only a month younger than I and has been married for around five years now, but had never gotten baptized. His parents were both members in various states of activity, and they told their children that they wouldn’t be forced to go to any church, but could make their own decisions when the time came. Consequently, Walker was never really exposed to the church until recently, since his wife also wasn’t all that active (although she was baptized). I guess it just takes a combination of the right ward, the right time, and the right prompting from the Spirit to get someone into the church. Walker’s awesome, and I’m glad he did get baptized. When we were younger we were kind of alienated from that side of the family, due to some awkward issues revolving around my father, but now that he’s gone my siblings and I are finding it easier to get along and integrate with his side of the family, and that’s helped out a lot of previously held notions that they’ve had about us and vice versa.
Thirdly, and finally, I attended the wedding reception of one Kimberly Isom (now Kimberly Bourne). I know I said earlier that I wasn’t going to be able to, but it turns out that Walker’s baptism was on Friday and the reception was on Saturday, so I was able to go. I went with Annelise and her family, and we bought her some cake pans at Target. The whole experience was kind of surreal; it was in a church off 114th South. There were more people crammed into that cultural hall than I’ve ever seen at a wedding reception before, and I didn’t recognize a single person there, except for members of the Isom family, of course. When I finally got to Kim in the line I remembered why I fell in love with her so many years ago. She was still drop-dead gorgeous, and didn’t seem to hold any animosity toward me, even with the dumb things I’ve done in the past. (Either she’s forgotten, gotten over it, or didn’t want to bring it up in the wedding line, after all.)
However, it was when she introduced me to her friend as “the guy I used to have a crush on” and then went on about liking a certain type of guy, like the one that she eventually married, that really struck home. If I had made more of an effort to contact Kimberly after my mission, could I have been the one standing in that line? I know I’ve been cautious in the past when it comes to relationships, mostly because I’m dreadfully afraid of getting burned somehow (either from a rejection or a relationship that eventually sours). But something I’ve come to realize over the past while is that doing nothing hurts much worse than doing something. (Warning: slightly gross personal story coming up!) It’s like when I had gallstones. I was in constant pain every night for more than a month. Horrible, wrenching pain. The only way to get rid of it was to go through the hospital, endure much worse pain (both surgery and recovery) to take the gall bladder out, and have a huge ugly scar and a few nerve problems in the area for the rest of my life. Doing nothing about relationships is like having gallstones. It hurts. A lot. And doing nothing about it may help familiarize the pain, make it more bearable, but it will never eliminate it. Taking that big leap into a relationship is like going into surgery. It may hurt like the dickens and leave a huge ugly scar, but at least the isolation pain is gone.
This guy was right. I was being a wuss. And if I ever hope to get out of this rut, I needed to act now, or forever regret it. So I took his advice and sent out an email. I have yet to receive a reply. I may never receive a reply. It may be Holly Fuellenbach all over again. But maybe it won’t. And for once in my life, I took that chance.