While writing about my old tradition of watching college football games on New Year's Day, I remembered the day I saw Sue Vann on national television.
Vann isn't her real last name, but Sue is her real first name. I changed her last name for this account, because she is a nice person, married and with children of her own. I wouldn't want her or her family to be embarrassed or troubled because I publicly associated myself with them, and that's typically how decent folk react when I tell others I know them.
Sue and I attended the same middle school and graduated from the same high school. She was smart, attractive and charming; I wasn't any of those. Sue was polite to me in public, but also had the good sense to keep a safe distance from me, both physically and socially.
I admired Sue, but also knew enough to understand we were in too completely social groups - her's being the equivalent of local gentry, and mine being widely recognized as the unwashed and unstable. Consequently, my admiration for Sue was harbored and unexpressed.
People today do not believe me when I describe for them the winters of the 1970s and early 1980s in the upper Midwest, but you can trust me when I tell you the winters then were bitterly cold.
The winter of 1981-82 was little different from the 10 previous winters. Legendary Chicago meteorologist Tom Skilling reported that January 1982 was the fourth coldest January in Chicago's recorded history.
On Friday, January 1, 1982, New Year's Day, Chicago's high temperature was minus 26 degrees. January started bitterly cold and it remained that way for the entire month.
The brutal weather that January 1 wasn't troublesome to me and my family because we spent most of the day indoors, doing what we did most New Year's Day in those years - watching the college football bowl games.
We were (and I still am) fans of Big Ten football, so we made certain to watch the Rose Bowl game in those days. The University of Iowa Hawkeyes played the University of Washington Huskies in the 69th edition of the Rose Bowl.
Elroy Barnes, a close friend from high school, joined us to watch the game. BTW, that's not his real name, but I can't use his real name for the same reasons I can't tell you Sue's real name.
Elroy attended the University of Illinois and did not consider himself a Hawkeyes fan (neither did I, for that matter), but everyone in my TV room that day was pulling for Iowa to win, simply because the school represented the Big Ten that day.
The great Hayden Fry coached the Hawkeyes that day, but Washington was at the top of its game, and that became apparent early on. It was not the happiest of contests for a Big Ten fan, but then it happened.
Just before going to a commercial break, the camera locked on a smiling, blond haired girl. She captured my attention and then recognized her.
There on my TV screen, on national TV, was Sue Vann. There was some doubt in my mind, but then memory kicked in, and I recalled Sue was attending the University of Iowa.
The striking blond, smiling and looking radiant in the warm sun of Pasadena, CA, was Sue Vann, a girl I was certain would love me if only she gave me half a chance.
And then the camera shot ended and a commercial started. I pointed to the TV and yelled, "Sue Vann! Sue Vann was just on TV." My Dad and Elroy stared at me blankly. They had been debating the merits of an official's call from earlier in the game and hadn't seen Sue's appearance.
I repeated that Sue Vann had just been on the TV.
"Who the hell is Sue Vann?" asked Dad. He didn't wait for an answer, returning to his debate with Elroy, who was still deep in the grips of a hangover from a party the night before and could not multitask.
I sat in silence, staring at the TV.
In the few years that had passed since last saw Sue, probably in 1979, I had all but forgotten about her, concerned more with the immediate demands of life. I was about begin classes in a few weeks at Northern Illinois University, following a couple of years at community college.
But at that moment, everything I had ever thought, even fantasized, about Sue came rushing back from memory. Just a few years earlier my adolescent daydreams involved taking Sue to the movies, or out to dinner, maybe inviting her to prom. Crazy, heady stuff produced by the mind of a 17-year-old boy.
The thoughts I considered long dead all flooded back at that moment. Was it unrequited lust, the remnants of adolescent infatuation, or authentic passion? Didn't matter. Anger and primal jealousy overwhemled those warm memories.
Sue Vann was sitting in the warm California sun, having fun and looking beautiful. I was sheltering from a frozen hell, watching football with my Dad and Elroy. It wasn't fair. It wasn't real. It was beyond absurd.
But reality set in. Anger passed, replaced by bitter acceptance and self pity. It wasn't absurd. It was real, and it was fitting. The breath-taking girl escaped the bitter cold, for at least a few days, and appeared on national TV, flashing a brilliant smile and looking stunning.
Doesn't that just figure, I thought. I spent the remainder of the game waiting for shots of the crowd, perhaps the cameraman who had first focused on Sue would feature her again. It didn't happen.
That one image was the only one I would have of her that day. It was soul crushing, but I found some pleasure in watching the Huskies top Iowa, 28-0, and life went on.
I've held that image of Sue in my mind from that day to this.
I crossed paths with her a few years ago and found the courage to ask Sue if she attended the 1982 Rose Bowl. Yes, she had attended that game. I said I believe I saw her on TV during the game. I had, she said. Family and friends who watched the game on TV that day told her later they had seen her bright, shining moment.
It was a memorable day, she said, but Iowa's loss made it a disappointing day.
Not for me, I thought. Not disappointing at all.
-- Thank you for reading. Comments and questions are always welcome and may be posted or emailed to kbotterman@gmail.com.