That’s 20 years, 8 months & 19 days for those of you counting at home. On September 3, 2016, Clorinda and I celebrated our 20 year 8 month 19 day anniversary in the very same place we were married. I’ve shared that story before—you can read it here—but our celebration on September 3, 2016 wasn’t about our wedding WAY back on December 15, 1995. No, this was about a couple of my kids getting married. To each other.
As my nephew Jack would say: “AWWWKWARD!”
Let me ‘splain.
I first met Travis Goldrup in January 2014. He was serving as a missionary in Las Vegas and had just been assigned to our ward. Paul Poteet had been here for six (6!) months, and on the way out he gave me some advice: Be sure to ask Goldrup about the desert in Maine.
What on earth does that mean? I’ve seen pictures of Maine. I had a cousin go to college there. I have read a lot of Stephen King novels. I’m something of an expert on Maine, and I LIVE IN LAS VEGAS so I know a thing or two about deserts, and I KNOW there’s no desert in Maine. Trees? Sure. Coastline? Lots of it. Desert. Um, no.
But if Paul Poteet suggested I ask about the desert in Maine, I figured I’d better ask about the desert in Maine.
Goldrup came to our house for dinner the first night he was here, and I think the desert in Maine was probably the second thing he was asked about. Big, exaggerated eye roll, accompanied by a laugh and something about Poteet. Goldrup (I still have a hard time calling him Travis) proceeded to tell some tale about how his great-grandfather Henry had found this desert in the middle of Maine and had developed it into a tourist attraction.
Desert? Tourist attraction? HELLO! I LIVE IN LAS VEGAS!
But whatever. Travis (there, I did it) was funny and personable and confident. I liked him. And the more I worked with him, I liked him more and more. He was bold and he knew what he was teaching. He was comfortable talking to just about anyone and had a remarkable ability to make people feel comfortable. He worked hard and was valiant in following mission rules.
When you’re a missionary, you have certain companions or leaders that you just come to love and admire. The one that changed my mission and had the longest lasting impact on my mission was a tall, broad-shouldered Clark-Kent of a Mormon Missionary who I’m pretty certain wore blue tights and a red cape under his white shirt and dark slacks—Dave (Dave who?) Dave Brown. Goldrup reminded me of Elder Brown.
And just like that he was gone. Poteet had been here six months; Goldrup was gone after six weeks. Missions are funny that way. Sometimes the Lord needs you here and sometimes he needs you there, and this time he needed Goldrup somewhere else. I was sent two new missionaries (whom I came to love, too), but Goldrup and his companion, JT Hoppins, were off to two new areas.
I ran into Goldrup from time to time. His new companion had been trained in our ward, and they had some leadership responsibilities for the Elders that were newly assigned here, so they were around. But I wasn’t out working with them like I had previously, and he was eventually transferred somewhere else in the valley.
Sometime later I was looking up an article on the Smithsonian magazine website. I have long since forgotten what I was looking at, but on the sidebar where they had all of the most popular stories listed was this little gem: “Why Is There a Desert in Maine?”
What?! It was clickbait at its finest and I was immediately sucked in. The story was all about this desert in Maine and how it had been developed into a tourist destination by some guy named Henry Goldrup. I’m still trying to figure out how Travis hacked the Smithsonian magazine’s website.
Four and a half months after Goldrup had been transferred from our ward, the area was “pink-washed” (meaning I got Sister missionaries instead of Elders. That was a MAJOR change in my life, but it proved to be a real blessing, for me and my family. That, however, is not the topic of this entry).
My third Sister missionary was an adorable, little jar of happiness from Houston Texas, Laekynn Davis.
“Houston, huh, my brother lives there. Did you know any Fontanos?”
“No, I don’t think so. Where did they live?”
“Oh, out on the Northeast side of the city.”
“I didn’t live by there, so no.”
OK, end of discussion. It was easy to love Sister Davis. She is a charmer of the highest order. There is always a sparkle in her eye and a smile that lights up her entire person. She quickly decided that I needed to be harassed often and she never missed an opportunity. She developed a little knock/doorbell version of shave-and-a-haircut that announced her arrival every time she was at the house (that lasted for the rest of the time I had missionaries here, and they still use it when they come back to visit).
One afternoon we were having a correlation meeting in my front room. Somehow the conversation turned to Houston again, and I got thinking about my other friends down in the Hell of Being Cut to Pieces (“Hell of being what?” “Chinese have a lot of Hells”). Sorry, I mean in Houston (having visited Houston in July, I can only presume the Chinese have some kind of Hell name for that place. I’ve been home from that vacation for 7 years and I’m STILL sweating.)
Back to the story, I thought I’d at least ask about the others. “Do you know any Ginns?” “No.”
“How about Haleys?”
Laekynn sat up in her seat, “Yes!”
“Josh and ...”
Before I could even finish my sentence she was off the couch and yelling, “TRISH HALEY! YES I KNOW TRISH HALEY! SHE WAS MY YOUNG WOMENS LEADER!”
Josh and Trish are more appropriately known as Uncle Josh and Auntie Trish to my kids. I could do a whole entry on Josh, and maybe I will one day. Suffice it to say, I met Josh at a youth conference in Hawaii when we were 15 and we became very fast friends. I love him like a brother and love his family. His wife Trish is an absolute treasure. His daughter Sarah is serving here as a missionary now.
And Laekynn grew up in their ward. So naturally we did what any good Ward Mission Leader and Sister Missionary would do. We took a picture and sent it off to Josh and Trish.
And just like that she was gone. Laekynn served her last twelve weeks in our ward and then left to go home. [Incidentally, the transfer that sent Laekynn to me was also the transfer that Travis went home to Maine. You know, back home to the desert.]
She headed to BYU in January and I kept seeing her on BYUtv when we would watch basketball and volleyball games. She seemed to be everywhere (her Dad says its because her cousin is a cameraman at the games, but I’m guessing that’s only part of the story). We traveled up to go to a wedding reception for another friend and went to a volleyball game with Laekynn.
I could go on and on, but she was like one of the family. We loved to have her visit us, and we kept close contact.
In September 2015, Travis called and said he was bringing his parents to Las Vegas and they all wanted to come by the house. (I suspect that having tasted the thrill of the desert in Maine they wanted to drink in the expansive desert of Las Vegas.) We had them over for dinner and found kindred spirits in Travis’s parents Darrell and Stacey. We had such a fun evening. I’m thinking we need to go back and visit them in Maine so we can see what a REAL desert is like.
In the middle of that conversation I got to thinking about these two kids that I loved so much, and how they would make an incredible couple (Laekynn had been here just a week or two prior). I told Travis that he really should call Laekynn and take her out sometime. He admitted that he thought she was cute, but gave me some lame excuse about her being down in Provo and he was up in Rexburg Idaho going to school, so it was just too much work.
Oh well, I tried.
Several weeks later Laekynn was back in town and we had a similar discussion. I told her what had happened and what Travis had said, and SHE GOT MAD AT ME! Oh, she kept a straight face, but it’s apparently “bad form” to tell a girl about a guy who doesn’t think she’s worth the effort to go after.
Nobody said I was any good at this stuff.
Regardless, the seed had been planted in both of their hearts.
In February we were headed up to Provo. Marien was at school, and we wanted to see her, plus the Provo City Center Temple was having an open house. And BYU had a basketball game AND a men’s volleyball game, so we could make a whole day out of it. Laekynn and Travis had connected on Snap Chat (whatever that is) and so she sent him a message to let him know that the Fontanos were coming to town for a basketball game and he should come down. To see us. Naturally.
Travis bit.
He texted Clayton and confirmed that we were, in fact, on our way to Provo, so he and a buddy came down from Rexburg. We met them at the basketball game, where they sat so coolly, taking a very analytical approach to the game. Laekynn did NOT let that stop her. She cheered and yelled and stood up and made her voice heard.
At the end of the game I was convinced I was wrong about these two. No chemistry.
But Laekynn was not a quitter. After the game she asked where they were parked. She (conveniently) could not remember where she had parked so she asked for a ride. At some point between our good-byes and reaching Laekynn’s car she had tricked them into inviting her out to dinner. The girl had moves.
A few weeks later Clorinda and I were out at dinner and my phone started vibrating. It was Travis, interrupting my date with my wife. Rude. But I took the call anyway. “What’s going on?” I asked.
“Hey, I’m here with Laekynn, and she says you liked Sisters better than Elders, so…”
“Wait. Back up. What do you mean you’re ‘there with Laekynn’?”
Laekynn was in Rexburg and they were headed out to dinner themselves. Turns out they had been traveling back and forth between Provo and Rexburg every weekend to see each other.
Wuv. Twue wuv.
By the end of March they were down in Vegas visiting. One morning I went to the Temple before going to work and when I walked out of the dressing room there they were. The two of them, looking a little sheepish at seeing me. “Guess what we’re doing” Laekynn asked. “Going to the Temple” I guessed. Wrong again. “We’re scheduling the temple for our wedding!”
Oh, they have a little Fontano in them (more accurately, a little Clorinda in them (see the story linked above)) in planning a wedding before they were engaged (that didn’t come until July).
So yesterday these two kids were married. These two kids that were MY kids, my missionaries, were married to each other. They were kneeling at the same altar in the same sealing room that Clorinda and I had knelt at 20 years 8 months and 19 days before, making the same covenants we had made.
Clorinda asked me last night after the reception if I felt like a dad at the reception. I did, but unlike anything I think I will feel again. My parents and Clorinda’s parents were our parents at the wedding, but Clorinda’s dad didn’t feel like he was my dad. There was still all of the suspicion about the sketchy dude that was marrying his daughter. My dad didn’t think of Clorinda as his daughter, although that feeling has come over time. I felt like MY son was marrying MY daughter.
Cue Jack: AWWWKWARD!!
I love both of them like they are my own kids. Luckily they aren’t, they’re just a couple of crazy kids that I thought deserved each other.
Laekynn and Travis, you are a joy to me. There’s an obscure little Book of Mormon verse that struck me a while back. Mormon writes, “And they were married and given in marriage, and were blessed according to the multitude of the promises which the Lord had made unto them.” [4 Ne. 1:11] I hope you will always be blessed in your marriage, that you will find joy in each other. Congratulations! And here’s to another 20 years 8 months and 19 days (plus eternity).
PS. It turns out that Laekynn DID know my brother Pete—she actually lived quite close to him. I was telling Pete the TRISH-HALEY!-SHE-WAS-MY-YOUNG-WOMEN'S-LEADER story and he asked her name. When I told him, he said, "I know Laekynn." Turns out he had substituted as her seminary teacher during her senior year. Laekynn, you make me smile.
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