I fell in love with Betty Hartke in 1945. We were both in the eighth grade. Although Betty was taller than I, Cupid's arrow had scored a direct hit as far as I was concerned.

At first I loved her from afar. I would glance at her during class when I was sure she wasn't looking my way. Well, you know, if she'd seen me looking at her she'd surely know I was her secret admirer. My day dreams were filled with heroic acts of bravery. I wasn't quite the knight in shining armor that saved her from the fire breathing dragon, or from a wicked stepmother. I did, though, in my daydreams, save her from a burning building, rescue her from drowning in the Cedar River and pulled her out of the way of an out of control bus.

In those daydreams she was so grateful she would hug me and tell me how much she loved me for saving her life. It was in the spring of the year when I decided I would ask her to go to a Saturday night movie with me at the Regent Theater. Well, not really ask her. I figured I'd never be able to get the words out. Instead, I wrote a note and waited by her locker after school. I would hand her my note as my heart raced, I gasped for breath, sweated and blushed.

Now, would she read my note, look at me and smile with a yes? or would she laugh, tear up my note, and trample my hopes and dreams on the varnished hallway floor? I had no idea, but I hoped my bravery wouldn't desert me at the last moment. Classmates hurried down the hall on their way home.

Some of them glanced at me and I'm sure they all knew why I was standing there by Betty's locker. Finally the rush was over and fewer kids walked the hallway. Where was Betty? She wasn't one to be kept after school, but maybe she had gone into a classroom to talk with one of our teachers. That must be it!

Someone came up behind me and said "Hey, are you waiting for Betty?"

I turned around and there was her younger brother Fred.

"Well, yes I was, kind of."

"She's already gone. She went home early." Fred grinned.

Should I give him the note to give to her? No, I guess not, but I knew I'd never be able to get up the courage to go through with this plan again. Then Carl Billings, one of my friends, came by and said, "Come on, let's stop at Berg's Drugstore for a cherry phosphate."

It was a let down, but somewhat of a relief, and I agreed.

Betty, my dear, you never knew how much I loved you when I was thirteen.