ROCKWALL, TX (Feb. 9, 2023) As you may have figured out by now, our Blue Ribbon News inbox overflows with tales of true love submitted by readers for our “How I Met My Mate” Valentine’s issue. This year, a friend asked if Richard and I were going to share our story. The last time we did so was in 2013, so at the risk of boring those who may have heard it before, we decided to tell it again. Like so many of the love stories we’ve published over the past decade, ours is sweet, silly, and surreal.
I met Richard in 1987, when he dialed the wrong number.
I had just moved to Rockwall after graduating from Lamar University in Beaumont. I left behind a part-time job at the college newspaper, a full-time job at the local television station, and an old boyfriend. I moved in with my parents (remember that little yellow house across from Sonic – the one at the intersection of Goliad, Ridge Road and Glenn Ave. that was torn down a couple years back and a new home was built in its place? We lived in that little yellow house on the corner while I pursued my dream job in the Big D. I wanted to be a news anchor, a legendary journalist; I wanted to write.)
My job search was taking a little longer than my parents expected, so I took a temporary position as a receptionist at an executive suite leasing office in downtown Dallas. I was charged with answering the phones and providing administrative assistance to the tenants. Problem was, we had no tenants. All of the office suites were empty except one, and that tenant was rarely there. I had little to do. I spent my time listening to music and doing cartwheels down the vacant hallways of the 13th floor of One Main Place.
One day, our phone lines were crossed with the Dallas County Courthouse. Dozens of calls were being routed to my switchboard by mistake. I was inundated with calls. I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I amused myself by placing callers on hold and forcing them to listen to country music. Occasionally I’d pick up the line and sing Hank Williams Jr’s “All My Rowdy Friends Have Settled Down,” and then I’d place the callers back on hold without giving them a chance to speak. It didn’t take long for them to hang up.
But not Richard. He held for over 45 minutes.
Richard assumed he had truly reached the courthouse, so he waited patiently on hold, undeterred by the fact that a crazy receptionist girl kept picking up the line to sing Bochephus.
At one point I jumped on the line to ask, Chinese or Italian? I was growing hungry and couldn’t decide what I wanted for lunch. I put him back on hold before he had a chance to answer.
I eventually felt a little remorseful for wasting his time, so I let him know that the phone lines were crossed and offered him the correct number to call. I was about to hang up when he said, “Wait. You asked me if I preferred Chinese or Italian, and you never gave me a chance to respond.”
That sparked a deeper conversation. We exchanged home phone numbers and talked for hours on end. Two weeks later, he knocked on the door of that little yellow house to take me out on a blind date. We enjoyed dinner and dancing (no, we didn’t go to a honky-tonk, but we did play Randy Travis’ “Forever and Ever, Amen” at our wedding.) We’ve been married 34 years, and every day I am blessed to write about the community that I love, with the man of my dreams.
By Dawn Redig, Publisher/Managing Editor, Blue Ribbon News.
Editor’s Note: When true love calls added by Editor on
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