Chapter 5 - The Proposal

The Proposal

Looking back, I realize now how young we were when we found our “person”. From the day we met, George and I were perfectly suited for each other. We loved our families and looked forward to starting our own. We had our career goals in full view, and we were in love. All of this, and we had just turned 20!

Young love - young lovers

School, work and studying filled our calendars, but we always found time to be together. Sunday family dinners were spent at either his home or mine  – or sometimes both. An afternoon with my family followed by a trip to the Hultman house, where George’s family gathered for a summer barbecue and a swim in the pool. 

Life was wonderful. We were in love – and in like. No quarrels or fights. We both continued living at home, and would never even consider spending an overnight together - imagining our parents' disapproval - and making our covert intimate moments more special. We loved whatever we were doing, as long as we were with each other.   

Oh the captions this image could generate!

At some point over the next year and a half, we both felt the excitement of imagining our life together. When I casually mentioned to my mother, “Mom, would you be happy if I married George?” her approval was instantaneous. I had chosen the boy of my parent’s dreams!

George was working fewer hours as pre-law coursework got more challenging, and he promised me a ring – someday – when he could afford one worthy of his Lovely Paula Marie. We strolled the storefronts of Northridge Mall, and stopped to admire rings in the jewelry store windows. I wasn’t in a hurry, and would have been happy with whatever he picked. But, as always, he had a plan…

Northridge Fashion Center, circa 1971. 

December, 1972 As Christmas approached, we found ourselves at the mall quite often. Engagement ring window-shopping had been replaced with Christmas present buying, and George confessed he wanted to give me a coat as my present. My coat obsession traces back to my winter, 1969 trip to South Dakota. Until then my Southern California born and bred senses had never seen snow fall, observed icicles, or felt chilled to the bone! Coats were essential there, and styles of the day had me hooked. While I wouldn’t need it often, I longed for a variation of the popular maxi length coat with wool shearling collar and cuffs.  

The coat style of my dreams. Perfectly unsuited for Southern California.

George was well aware of my very specific taste, and wanted me to pick out the coat. He would buy it, gift wrap it, and present it to me on Christmas. He mentioned on several occasions how bad he felt, having me pick my own present, but I assured him it was perfectly fine. I was eager to open the gift box and wear my gorgeous new coat, no matter how warm that SoCal Christmas weather would be.

Christmas Eve was the Hultman’s traditional night to gather for dinner as a family. George became Uncle Santa, happily donning the red suit and beard as he “Ho, ho, ho’d” his heart out, to the delight of my nieces and his nephews. My family always chose Christmas night for the family get-together, which eliminated the need to “choose” with whom we would spend the holidays. Another perfect fit!

Uncle Santa passing our presents 

On the afternoon of Christmas Eve, 1972, George arrived at my door with the huge, recognizable Bullock's Department Store box holding my beautiful new coat. I looked forward to wrapping myself in all its mod splendor, and he looked happy presenting it to me. “Let’s go into the den so you can open it now,” he said. I was a bit puzzled he chose a room so un-Christmas-y, but off we went to our little TV room/den. He handed me the box, heavy under the weight of that mid length beauty, and we sat together as I untied the bow and lifted the top off the box. Tissue flew as I attempted to reach my coat. Instead, I uncovered…bricks! And hidden in the center of that oversized gift box I saw it – a two by two inch jewelry box. My heart skipped a beat! My boyfriend was about to propose.

I don’t remember his exact words. But I do remember the thrill of the moment. The beautiful, almost one carat, marquis cut diamond solitaire, set in a brushed yellow gold band. He had been saving for months, and drove to the LA Jewelry Mart to find the perfect diamond and setting – with all of the details from all the rings I admired in those jewelry store windows. He got down on his knee, asked me to spend the rest of my life with him and slipped the ring on my finger - and I said “Yes!” We were engaged, and I rushed to the next room and my parents – who had been in on the surprise all along. George was old school and had asked my parents’ blessing weeks earlier. Hugs and handshakes ensued. 

“I have to show Lolly!” My best friend lived a few houses away, and as we walked to her house, I held my left hand at arm’s length, admiring my newly adorned ring finger. We drove to his house, my arm still extended as I admired my beautiful ring, and his parents and family made me feel as if I was already a part of the Hultman clan. It was a Christmas Eve to remember. Paula Preston was going to become Paula Hultman.

And The Coat? It was in a box under our Christmas tree the next morning. A Christmas gift from my parents!

The Coat. Not a single photo of The Ring could be found!

Grateful? Thankful? Depressed

This weekend celebrates the transformation of Casa de Hultman into a "faux fall" spectacular. As a native SoCal girl it’s my way of anointing every room with the symbols of my favorite season - while the A/C combats the hot Santa Ana winds, and backyard citrus trees bear the ripening bounty of oranges, avocados, and tangerines on their perpetually green boughs. Throughout the house, orange, gold and auburn replace the cool summer hues. Pumpkins abound, and happy jack-o’-lanterns await their October addition to the rites of autumn. By November, bountiful cornucopias will take their place on the mantle.

NYC 2016. Central Park in Fall. Nothing like it!

Our 2016 NYC trip, and "real" fall color. Breathtaking!

Do I want to decorate this year? I have asked myself that question over the past few weeks - my heart still aching as I wander through our home - alone. Am I ready to put up the reminders of the season we both loved, in my Kahuna-less house? I wavered between avoiding every reminder of what I lost, and going into "full-on" fall decorating mode as a reminder of what used to be.

Friendsgiving 2017. Grateful. Two weeks before The News

After some joy-focused meditation, and the realization I had to accept my new normal (I have come to hate that phrase), I made the decision to pull out the fall décor. Every dried/preserved/imported leaf, pumpkin and seed pod! I marked the Labor Day weekend by festooning the house with its usual autumn splendor.

There was one difference…

I struggled with the words used on decorative signage that had previously expressed my gratitude for this season of thankfulness. Grateful? Thankful? Blessed? In my current raw state, these words tugged at my heart. Don’t get me wrong - I am grateful for my village who is watching out for me and giving me space to grieve; thankful to my children and grandchildren for reminding me that George and I created a beautiful family; and blessed to have had so many years with the love of my life. But the predominate sentiment of this season of “firsts” isn’t found on any Pinterest page or home store shelf. Instead of Grateful, Thankful, Blessed, my sign would read Heartbroken, Lonesome, Depressed.

Stores abound with signage of the season. 

 As Daughter and I shopped for even more fall decor yesterday, I felt a tinge of resentment as the signage of the season bombarded my fragile senses and pierced my already broken heart. I turned my attention away from the words that imbued their sentiment, in favor of scented candles, metal baskets and dried flowers. Then I turned a corner to find this framed message...

This. Is/Was. Us.

"It was one of those love stories that people will talk about for years to come."

My Kahuna was suddenly with me. Reminding of me of all that I had been given in my lifetime. How grateful I was for walking into English class 50 years ago and meeting my best friend. How thankful I am to have found my perfect love. How blessed was the life we had together. And I realized he is always with me. He had led me to the Most Perfect Sign. Daughter saw me stop in my tracks and immediately offered consolation as I melted in her arms. I had the love story of a lifetime - and as I learned so suddenly - none of us know when our “lifetime” will end. The George and Paula love story is timeless. And life goes on, as do the seasons. This year of firsts will bring anguished tears of sadness, but I will surround myself with the decorations and symbols of the season my Kahuna and I cherished. And I will smile between the tears.

Keep Calm and Decorate, Decorate, Decorate!

I’m reinventing the meaning of Grateful, Thankful, Blessed this year. I’m not sure I can bear to see the words blatantly displayed in the house yet, but I know George is watching. He is GRATEFUL I am going to celebrate this season we both loved, THANKFUL I won't be alone, and BLESSED he made the most of his simple, yet meaningful life.

Here's to our favorite season, honey. Feel free to visit any time. I'll leave a candle burning for you.

Kahuna Gone

I survived Day 2 of my Kahuna-less life. My loved ones are ferociously protective of me and have taken George’s place in making sure I am safe. He has to be so grateful to them for assuming that role. So am I. And yet my heart aches that his place had to be taken.

Family and friends filled the house as we shared tears and laughter (and by evening, wine) remembering George! In the morning we visited the mortuary to handle final arrangements, and made stops to visit and leave flowers for my sister Janet and George’s mom Bette. The night ended in true Cass de Hultman fashion, with a few of us sitting around the fire pit telling more stories about a man who had such an impact on so many people. In bed, I clutched his pillow again and held the one piece of clothing that still carries the scent of my beautiful man. This big bed feels so empty. My Kahuna was a key player in all but the first 17 years of my life. How I will carry-on without him is the question I can’t yet answer.

“Hey, Paula! Your husband just died. What are you going to do next?” I’m going to Disneyland! Yes. It’s true. Alison and her family had made the plans several weeks ago before our world took this sad and unexpected turn. Thankfully, they made the decision not to cancel their trip. As we talked yesterday about the days ahead I thought to myself, “I should go too.” It was a place where George and I happily became kids again. Being with the grands would be a beautiful diversion from reality for a day. I could be the saddest person on earth at the happiest place on earth! So this afternoon after we visit a few places in mind for George’s memorial, I’m taking my seat between sweet Max and Kelly to lose myself in Disney imagined make believe - definitely a George-approved diversion.

The extraordinary outpouring of tributes and shared memories have been so appreciated. PLEASE KEEP THEM COMING! They bring back a flood of beautiful memories and provide tremendous comfort. I am saving each and every post, message and comment, and plan on creating a collection of George Moments in which to immerse myself whenever I need to feel his presence.

I am deeply grateful and profoundly overwhelmed by the love and kindness you have shown me along this journey. The flowers, cards, gifts, food, messages, visits and hugs - both virtual and physical - have helped me cope with the grief that consumes me. It’s impossible to express the depth of my appreciation. I am...speechless. ❤️

3-Word Wisdom 19: Have friends over

It’s Saturday evening and Hubby and I are home, alone. Daughter and boyfriend declined our invitation in favor of a dinner and movie date night. Son and fiancé also sent regrets and are home, enjoying their own quiet evening. Our sweet rescue Golden Retriever, Lucy, just ate the last of the grilled shrimp we had for dinner, and Hubby made a lovely fire to keep us warm as we await the arrival of a late winter storm. He’s controlling the remote and I am lingering over my laptop – searching for Wisdom. Tonight is a far cry from many weekend nights at our home.

Our house is get-together central. From carefully planned weddings and engagement parties to impromptu pot lucks and pizza parties, we love hosting a houseful of friends and family. It's in our genes. I recall the gatherings that my parents hosted - 4^th of July barbecues with barely legal fireworks, and the annual New Year’s Day Rose Bowl game/chili fest, with Dad’s incomparable recipe. Hubby’s parents also welcomed family for summer pool parties and Christmas Eve gatherings. During our parallel middle-class existence, growing up in the San Fernando Valley of the 60’s, a night out was a night in – surrounded with the people you cared the most about – sharing food, stories and inexpensive fun.

We had a lot of wonderful role models when it came to entertaining. Besides our parents, Brother and his wife were extraordinary hosts. Sister-in-law added delightful special touches to her events – her attention to detail was not lost in me – she was my Martha Stewart! When the family gathering baton was eventually passed to me, I knew I had huge shoes to fill. The pressure was on, and I went to great lengths to assure that my events had the same impact on my guests as the gatherings of my childhood had on me.

It took me several years to realize that I had totally missed the mark. Great gatherings are measured by the enjoyment of the guests – not the matching plates and napkins. And while my inner Martha finds personal satisfaction with my origami toilet paper folds (I am known for my extra rolls of TP, neatly displayed with a specially fan-folded first sheet!), our parties are memorable for the wonderful people they bring together – old and new friends, sharing food, music and conversation.

Today’s 3-word wisdom: Have friends over. It can be simple or elaborate, large or intimate. The menu can be gourmet, pot-luck or take-out. Bring the people you love together and make no apologies for your home or your mismatched dishes. A night with loved ones at home is an unforgettable experience.

I realize that not everyone possesses the entertainment gene – or the back yard that will accommodate up to one hundred guests! But I believe that there is an innate human desire to spend time in the company of others. Sharing time at home with any number of special family and friends is one of our favorite pastimes and is, hopefully, one of yours. Now get your party started - and be sure to invite us!

Wonderful backyard memories. S'mores and family - reunion 2008

Yes, I actually do fold my extra toilet paper this way!