Dad has a girlfriend.
"I want you to meet her," Dad clears his throat nervously. He's gathered all of us together in the living room after Friday Night Pizza. "This Sunday. Her name's Kris Nolan Clare, she's a young widow with a five-year-old son, and she works at Goodwill Industries," he rattles off in clipped sentences. "Everybody be here Sunday."
He says this with a note of finality, collects his newspaper and glasses, and abruptly leaves the room. All of us gape after him. Apparently, he will not be fielding questions.
We glance sideways at each other. It's not that there haven't been other women. Since Mom's death ten years ago, Dad's dated a couple of ladies seriously and comes perilously close to marrying one of them. He plays this new relationship, however, close to the vest - possibly because of the relentless manner in which we stalk, research and grill every woman who comes sniffing around.
What little we do know about her is not reassuring. Playing detective, I spot her one night as she and Dad attend a community theater event. She's only a few years older than I am. That, all by itself, is plenty of reason to hate her.
"Also, did I mention she has great legs?" I break the news to my sisters. "And don't even get me started on her boobs."
The following Sunday, we fill Dad's living room with spouses and kids in tow feeling nearly as nervous as Dad. The entire Brown family battalion waits for the new girlfriend's arrival. When the doorbell rings, we jump.
Kris, of course, is just as nervous as we are. She ushers her five-year-old son Nolan - scrubbed and shining like a kid out of a catalog - through the door, and we look each other over in awkward silence.
Until Nolan toots.
"Oops!" he grins and claps a hand over his red face.
We laugh, suddenly relax, and throughout the afternoon become acquainted with the remarkable woman who will eventually marry our much adored father.
Just about the same time Dad becomes a 49-year-old widower with ten kids, Kris is a very young and pregnant wife. One early morning, sailing down the highway on her way to work, she comes upon a terrible accident. In the mangled vehicle is her husband Tom who's departed for work just a few minutes before Kris.
All at once, I forgive her for being young. The sensational legs and boobs don't matter any more.
"You need to marry her," I whisper urgently to my father in the kitchen. "And dear God, don't mess this up."
He doesn't. Or at least, if he does, Kris loves him too much to mind. On June 2nd of the following year, my brothers and sisters and Nolan and I march Dad and Kris down the aisle.
Kris loves him so much, she's willing to take on not only Dad but also our teenage brothers Jeff and Tom as well. When Tom's ancient, blind and incontinent cocker spaniel stumbles through her door, Kris doesn't bat an eye.
There are other nifty surprises as well. Even on sub-zero winter nights, Dad dons a knit stocking cap before retiring to bed and cracks all the windows in the bedroom. Just to be safe, he fires up the weather alert system and sets it carefully on the night stand. At three in the morning, it shrieks Kris awake with dire news of winter storm warnings in Lodge Pole or Nehawka - unheard of Nebraska villages some 275 miles away. Dad, with his stocking cap snug against his ears, sleeps blissfully through the robotic warnings.
Dad adores Kris to distraction. We haven't seen him laugh so much since Mom. But Kris is not Mom. She's the CEO of Goodwill Industries of Greater Nebraska. Dick Brown isn't used to the new genre of the "working wife". To his credit, however, he forces himself to evolve with the times and embrace this new era with a dynamic working wife 20 years his junior. And it works. He's happy, Kris and Nolan are happy, and we're happy. Kris becomes our kids' grandmother and a sister/friend/mother to all of us.
Somewhere, Mom is happy, too. Deep down, I understand she's helped orchestrate these events to bring Kris and Nolan into our lives. Only Mom understands how much Dad and all of us need Kris.
Today our little brother Nolan is a successful businessman in Omaha married to his beautiful Brianne. Kris, who is still dynamic and full of her cheerful energy, is the family matriarch at every holiday, baptism and athletic event. She's traveled hundreds of miles to be by our sides during surgeries and graduations. And once a year, she and my sisters and I make a trip to Omaha for our annual girls' shopping weekend - one time in white-out, blizzard conditions because nothing, and I mean nothing comes between us and our shopping trip.
We sometimes forget what an amazing woman our stepmother is and how respected she is in her professional life. To Nolan and all of us, she's simply Mom, Kris and Grandma.
She’s the one at Thanksgiving who still thinks it’s possible to snap a picture of all her kids and grandkids gathered in front of the fireplace. There are 70 of us. Even as she's taking a picture, some of us are reproducing. It's what we do.
She’s the one who laughs hardest at our jokes, the one who never forgets a single grandchild at Christmas, and the one who’s stuck with us through thick and thin.
"I want you to meet her," Dad clears his throat nervously. He's gathered all of us together in the living room after Friday Night Pizza. "This Sunday. Her name's Kris Nolan Clare, she's a young widow with a five-year-old son, and she works at Goodwill Industries," he rattles off in clipped sentences. "Everybody be here Sunday."
He says this with a note of finality, collects his newspaper and glasses, and abruptly leaves the room. All of us gape after him. Apparently, he will not be fielding questions.
 |
| Kris and Dad |
What little we do know about her is not reassuring. Playing detective, I spot her one night as she and Dad attend a community theater event. She's only a few years older than I am. That, all by itself, is plenty of reason to hate her.
"Also, did I mention she has great legs?" I break the news to my sisters. "And don't even get me started on her boobs."
The following Sunday, we fill Dad's living room with spouses and kids in tow feeling nearly as nervous as Dad. The entire Brown family battalion waits for the new girlfriend's arrival. When the doorbell rings, we jump.
Kris, of course, is just as nervous as we are. She ushers her five-year-old son Nolan - scrubbed and shining like a kid out of a catalog - through the door, and we look each other over in awkward silence.
Until Nolan toots.
"Oops!" he grins and claps a hand over his red face.
We laugh, suddenly relax, and throughout the afternoon become acquainted with the remarkable woman who will eventually marry our much adored father.
Just about the same time Dad becomes a 49-year-old widower with ten kids, Kris is a very young and pregnant wife. One early morning, sailing down the highway on her way to work, she comes upon a terrible accident. In the mangled vehicle is her husband Tom who's departed for work just a few minutes before Kris.
Tom's only barely alive. In the emergency room before they rush him to surgery, Kris clings to him.
“RBO,” he whispers to her. Real Bad Owie. It's their little joke whenever they bump a toe or an elbow and need sympathy from each other.
“Yes,” Kris breathes. “RBO!”
Because Tom is strong enough to tell Kris he loves her before he's whisked away, she holds out hope he’ll make it through surgery. But it's the last time he's able to speak. He dies three days later.
In the same way Dad is making himself get out of bed every morning to go to work and care for ten kids, Kris will give birth to her only son, raise him alone, and force herself to go on with the business of living. Her parents, her mother and father-in-law, and her best friend Tina support her through the most difficult days of her life.
 |
| Kris and Dad |
All at once, I forgive her for being young. The sensational legs and boobs don't matter any more.
"You need to marry her," I whisper urgently to my father in the kitchen. "And dear God, don't mess this up."
He doesn't. Or at least, if he does, Kris loves him too much to mind. On June 2nd of the following year, my brothers and sisters and Nolan and I march Dad and Kris down the aisle.
Kris loves him so much, she's willing to take on not only Dad but also our teenage brothers Jeff and Tom as well. When Tom's ancient, blind and incontinent cocker spaniel stumbles through her door, Kris doesn't bat an eye.
There are other nifty surprises as well. Even on sub-zero winter nights, Dad dons a knit stocking cap before retiring to bed and cracks all the windows in the bedroom. Just to be safe, he fires up the weather alert system and sets it carefully on the night stand. At three in the morning, it shrieks Kris awake with dire news of winter storm warnings in Lodge Pole or Nehawka - unheard of Nebraska villages some 275 miles away. Dad, with his stocking cap snug against his ears, sleeps blissfully through the robotic warnings.
 |
| Kris and Dad on their wedding day, June 2, 1990. |
Somewhere, Mom is happy, too. Deep down, I understand she's helped orchestrate these events to bring Kris and Nolan into our lives. Only Mom understands how much Dad and all of us need Kris.
 |
| Nolan and Dad |
We sometimes forget what an amazing woman our stepmother is and how respected she is in her professional life. To Nolan and all of us, she's simply Mom, Kris and Grandma.
She’s the one at Thanksgiving who still thinks it’s possible to snap a picture of all her kids and grandkids gathered in front of the fireplace. There are 70 of us. Even as she's taking a picture, some of us are reproducing. It's what we do.
She’s the one who laughs hardest at our jokes, the one who never forgets a single grandchild at Christmas, and the one who’s stuck with us through thick and thin.
And by God, she still has great legs.
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