A school report card and love letter

I was thinking the other day, I’m a lot closer these days to the end of life’s road than its beginning; but I wondered if the end of the road might be likened to a sunrise and sunset.

And if so, then maybe one’s spirit has no end, just like the sun, for while it disappears in one sphere of the world, it rises in another and continues; a circle of life.

It was a thought I pondered while cleaning out my garage’s attic.

So, with a little help, all items in my garage attic were moved downstairs; a galaxy of memories awaited me, and in each box the items would be meticulously examined.

A Japanese Arisaka rifle was there; a German Nazi uniform; boxes of old prison memories; framed pictures of all kinds, a voluminous number of papers and more, but two particular items brought back some most meaningful memories.

My report card from the 11th grade (1964-65) at Boonsboro High was most revealing; Consider:

English, a grade of C — I read few books back then but learned the importance of a sentence; that element has served me well over the years. So has Ernest Hemingway;

U.S. History, a grade of C — growing up poor in Dargan was a greater chapter for memory, and history never seems to learn much from itself anyway, or we wouldn’t have so many wars;

Science , a "B" — Mr. Schamel was "generous;"

Typing, a "D" — still strange I can type over 120 words a minute these days with virtually no errors;

Bookkeeping, a "D" — at Amy’s high school graduation I had the opportunity to see Mrs. Wells, my bookkeeping teacher, and asked her if she remembered my grade in her class. She smiled, but gave no clues/ I earned a "D" in your class, I said, but shared that I grew up to manage a 48-million-dollar budget as a prison warden;

Driver’s Ed, a grade of "B" — Mr. Murray would be sad to learn I knocked over a telephone pole in 1972 and put out the neighbors' lights on Taylor’s Landing Road; go figure!

I’m thinking here I must be a little like that turtle in Aesop’s fable and the race with the hare; "I might be slow but sure at the end ."

The most "priceless " find of my search, however, was a " love letter " from my girlfriend Sheila Knight; a most moving and unbelievable discovery.

It was a letter Sheila had written to me in August 1968 as I was returning home from Vietnam. Tears flooded me as I read it.

Sheila was 16 years old back then and wrote:

“I just got up out of bed and said to myself, 'Sheila lets write Pete a letter,' so I am writing you a letter.

" I was hoping I would see you this week because everyone said you were coming home, Mom said maybe they were keeping you a little longer. "

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As I continued reading, I couldn’t believe it found its way back into my hands some 56 years later. Romance surrounded me.

Sheila continued:

“Pete, when you come home, I’ll be able to ride with you. The last time maybe I couldn’t, but this time I can. My mother and father say I have to be home by 11:30 p.m. I can’t wait to see you! Pete, if you only knew! "

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I’ve read this letter countless times since its recent discovery. It returned me to the "love story " of my life as I traveled between sunrises and sunsets.

Sheila continues:

“You’re all I need and want. I am ready to settle down, Love always, Sheila.”

Such maturity at 16.

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I was totally enamored to receive a letter from such a beautiful brown-eyed girl.

I made it home, bought a 1965 Chevy Impala convertible, and Sheila and I did ride the scenic roads and made memories in that car.

And I always made sure I had her home by 11:30 p.m.; her parents Leon and Ethel were the very best!

It was a fairytale come true. Sheila turned 17 on Dec. 14, 1968, and we were married on Dec. 21, the first day of winter.

I took her out of school to Fort Lee with me for my last year in the Army; we went to night classes to insure she graduated from high school.

Amy was born on Aug. 4, 1969.

We built our home in Antietam Furnace in 1970.

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Report cards tell a story; love letters do too.

Sheila’s spirit departed with that sunset on July 29, 2023.

Our togetherness was "magic."

Still is ... in that circle of life.

Smile.

Pete Waters is a Sharpsburg resident who writes for The Herald-Mail.

This article originally appeared on The Herald-Mail: A school report card and love letter