The Beginning

We met the beginning of spring semester, 1984, at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. I'd transferred from Ricks (now BYU-Idaho) to BYU in the fall semester of 1983. Alvin having served a mission to Tahiti and the Marquesas, arrived at BYU at the same time. My first memory of my sweetheart takes me back to the first day of class of that semester. I glanced down the hall toward where I hoped my class was (I have a notoriously poor sense of direction) and saw an extremely handsome gentleman approaching the same door. He glanced up, smiled at me and waited, with the door open, for me to arrive. We both had Greek & Roman Mythology from possibly the worst instructor known to mankind. Wow--if they gave Academy Awards to the worst possible teacher--he would have walked home with it that year, hands down. Needless to say, neither Alvin nor I did well in that class. We mostly spent that time getting to know one another. The end result of which was we became very good friends.

Alvin later told me that he'd seen me walking down the hall and decided he wanted to meet me. So as I approached the classroom, he decided to hold the door open and hope I was headed the same place he was. I thought he was quite the gentleman, but it turns out he was just trying to check out the way I filled out my jeans. Men!

My first year at BYU was a little overwhelming to a girl from possibly one of the tiniest towns in southwestern Colorado. Despite the fact I'd excelled at Ricks, I did not do as well at BYU. I returned to Ricks for the school year of 1984-85 in order to get my grades to an acceptable level and remind myself that college was about education and not keeping up with an active social life. Although Alvin and I had become good friends during that first year, we did not keep contact during the summer and we lost touch.

However, I spent a good many weekends in Provo, visiting with friends and roommates from the year before. One of these friends, was Duane, from Hawaii. He'd been dating my roommate and our friendship developed from there. One of the many weekends I came down for a visit, Duane decided to set me up with a handsome gentleman from the BYU baseball team . . . unfortunately, just before walking into the Smith Fieldhouse to watch my former roommates play volleyball, I ran into Alvin again. We spoke for a few minutes, and my subsequent date fell very flat. There was just something about Alvin that could not be ignored.

After returning to Ricks I received a phone call from Duane. It seemed Alvin was interested in taking our friendship to the next level and wanted to try dating. I gave Duane permission to give Alvin my number and we had several conversations before my next visit to Provo.

My first night back in Provo, Alvin picked me up and we went out to dinner at Los Hermanos in Provo, Utah. To this very day, still my favorite restaurant. From that moment on, we went out every time I was in Provo. Although my memories of our first few dates are a little hazy, we did the standard movies, dinner, dancing, volleyball games, visiting and hanging out a lot with mutual friends. On our third date, we were watching videos with my former roommate and her husband. Michele and Scott had fallen asleep on the couch and Alvin and I were cuddled up, watching the movie. He chose that moment to propose to me. Yes, I was surprised, but I knew I loved him and wanted to be with him forever, so I said, "yes". You'd think we'd have a happy ending at that point. But no, there's more.

Of course, life slapped us right back into the middle of reality and we were back at our respective schools (Ricks and BYU). Over the next few months, we saw each other as often as we could and spent almost every night on the phone. (Oh yeah, those were some monstrous phone bills.) The school year came to a close, we made it through finals and I moved back to Provo while Alvin returned home to California for the summer. So the long phone calls continued and we personally contributed to the overall wealth of Qwest.

When fall rolled around, we were in the same school, same city, same state for the first time since we'd become engaged. It would seem close proximity (at the time) was not conducive to a healthy relationship for us. Within a month I was sitting glumly in the Harold B. Lee library at BYU contemplating what to do about our rapidly disintegrating relationship. Alvin had the impossible habit of standing me up, alot! Now, I liked me . . . I thought I deserved much better than that but also loved Alvin with everything inside of me. So I was sitting there contemplating my dismal circumstances when a mutual friend saw me as he was walking by. Robert Anae (now the Offensive Coordinator at Brigham Young University), walked over, sat down and asked what was wrong. Well, I'm really not one to hold things back so I laid it all out for him, explaining how I was feeling, what Alvin was doing and my possible courses of action. I'll never forget the conversation which followed:

"Candace. Alvin loves you. You need to tell him he needs to shape up or ship out."

"But what if he ships out?"

"He won't. He loves you. I promise, it'll be okay. But you have to lay the law down and let him know he can't treat you like that."

We talked awhile longer. Now, the thing about me, is that although truth is staring me in the face, it takes awhile for me to come around to the correct course of action on occasion. (I like to think I've grown up since then and don't find the need to take the hard way around anymore.) But Robert was right, it was time to put up or shut up. So I called Alvin and asked him to meet me at my house, we needed to talk.

We talked.

We broke up.

I called and I told Robert to call in to work, he wasn't going . . . get a large pizza and get over to my house. Now. While he was doing that, I wandered back to my room, completely brokenhearted but enjoying the mad I was having toward Robert, and spied the cute little Alvin the Chipmunk doll my now former fiance' bought me. Oh, it didn't take long. That little sucker was hanging from a noose in my doorway within fifteen minutes.

Thirty minutes later Robert showed up and rang the doorbell. I opened the door, took the pizza and handed it off to my roommate and one of my best friends, Karin, and punched Robert in the stomach as hard as I could. Granted, it was a sucker punch, but it gave me some satisfaction to get the attention of a BYU Offensive Lineman.

"He broke up with me!"

"What?! No way!"

And so the night went. Robert was very kind in spending many hours talking to me and keeping me cheered up. The only moment of real hilarity in the evening was when Robert saw the hanging Alvin the Chipmunk doll. He kissed me on the cheek, told me everything would be okay and left.

He hightailed it back to his place where Alvin was waiting and told him all about the chipmunk doll hanging by a noose.

As funny as this story is now, at the time, I was very heartbroken and struggling to keep up in my classes. My friends and Alvin's friends surrounded me and supported me in the most amazing ways. Thor Salanoa, one of BYU's linebackers and one of Alvin's closest friends, offered to beat Alvin up. He would kiss me on the cheek, tell me I looked beautiful and ask if I was doing okay. There were days when I thought Alvin writhing in pain from a Thor Salanoa induced pummeling would make me happy, but I just couldn't get pass how much I loved him. So in the end, the love and support of friends from everywhere got me through and life went on.

The years passed. Alvin and I spoke on a yearly basis, but rarely more than that. I pursued a career in writing and film and was happy. In the spring of 1993, I was 28, still single and had decided that marriage was not in the cards for me. While this was not an easy conclusion to come to, it was the more attractive alternative to the less than stellar individuals I had been dating.

About that time, Cosmopolitan magazine (I recommend this magazine to no one) had published excerpts of a particularly vitrolic anti-Mormon book written by a disgruntled member. One of my little sister's friends happened to be reading this excerpt and grew disturbed by what she was reading. It was about midnight or so when she called, and we had an early morning breakfast where we went over what she'd read. The article, as well as the book, was particularly offensive to any thinking Latter-day Saint woman. My sisters and I, a writer, a composer/artist, and a lawyer, found it particularly offensive as it described all LDS women as uneducated, subjugated and dominated. Needless to say, the three of us were a trifle annoyed. I, of course, took it a step further.

Not too many days later, I was curled up on the couch reading a book when a message flashed across the bottom of the television screen mentioning the author of this book was going to be on the Phil Donahue Show. Well, I had already written a letter to the editor of Cosmo (if I'd known it was Helen Gurley Brown I probably wouldn't have bothered) and now it looked like this woman was going to get even more press because she hadn't figured out how to get a handle on her life. It annoyed me for a few days and then I decided to fax the Cosmo letter to the Donahue Show. It only took my sister fifteen minutes to get the appropriate number and the letter was off. Of course, I used a fax cover sheet that was particular to the Donahue Show, but not the letter, it was the same one, addressed to the Editor in Chief of Cosmopolitan magazine.

To make a longer story short, by Wednesday of the following week, April 23, 1993, I was in New York taping the Phil Donahue Show. My stance? Complete and total defense of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the men of the church and the rights and role of the priesthood. I've never been shy to stand up for what I believe in . . . and this time was no exception to the rule. It was one of the most incredibly spiritual experiences of my life. But one more thing happened because of this show, Alvin called me and we began to speak more frequently.

Time went on and a year or so later I was in California visiting my sister, Crystal, when Alvin and I went out on a date. It was fun and I knew within fifteen minutes of being in his company again I had never stopped loving him. I was 31 years old by this point and it took a major shift of understanding to accept that perhaps I ought to rethink the marriage thing. Alvin was that shift. At the end of that visit, Alvin and I decided to keep in touch and see each other when we could. We spoke often on the phone and not more than a month later I was in California again and we went out again. It was cool! I have to admit. And then . . . he stood me up again.

Major difference, I was thirty now, not twenty-one, and more than willing to express my thoughts. I wrote the man an eight page letter, front and back, told him eight things that would have to change if we were to have any chance at all and if he couldn't make those things happen, have a nice life. Now I loved him, but there was no way on God's green earth I was heading down that road again. We lived in two different states, as well as seven other problems. I gave that letter to my cousin to deliver to Alvin's house, hopped in my car and headed back to Utah.

By the time I pulled in, it was 5:00 a.m. and I had to be up in an hour to be at work. I checked the messages and heard three from Alvin. I wasn't sure I was up to hearing "see ya", so I decided to rest on the couch until it was time to get up and get ready for work. Ten minutes later, the phone rang. It was Alvin. He told me he was flying up to see me on Wednesday (this was Monday), and we'd talk then. I didn't know what to make of it but it made me hopeful.

As the week went on numerous things happened. Alvin's trip was delayed until the following Monday, but I knew what he was coming to do. He was coming to say thanks, but no thanks. Well I spent that week in prayer, temple attendance and fasting. I had my answer, just not what I was going to do about it.

The day dawned when Alvin would arrive. Ladies, have you ever had one of those days where your hair was amazing, your makeup perfect, your clothes hang just right and you feel like a million bucks? Yep, it was one of those days for me. So I headed off to the airport determined to make Alvin pay for being unwilling to give us a chance. (No, I swear . . . no stalker mentality. Just someone who'd been down this road once before and unwilling to not make him sweat, just a little.) Since this was pre-9/11, I was able to wait for him at the gate. So I stood against the wall, at the back of the crowd, and waited.

It didn't take long, Alvin walked off the plane and straight to me. With only a carry on, we were back in my car and on the freeway in no time at all. Lots of small talk, some music and we finally got to my apartment. Before too long, Alvin was breaking the news. We couldn't be together because he had too many responsibilities to his family. As I listened to him explain I wondered what I would say, what would I do? As he finished, my response startled me as much as it startled him.

"No, Alvin." I said. "That is not acceptable."

It's a toss up to which one of us was more shocked.

We talked, really talked, for hours that night, addressing concerns both of us had. At the end of the evening we decided we would give dating a shot and see what happened.

The next day we were having lunch at Bamboo Hut in Provo when we ran into quite a few college friends who happened to show up the same day. Many asked Alvin what he was doing there and he looked at me and said, "I'm here on eternal business." Again, who was more shocked it was hard to say. From giving it a shot to eternal business was quite a leap in less than twelve hours.

Twenty-four hours later Alvin proposed to me in the sweetest, most romantic way -- very special and it showed how well he knew me by saying what was most important to me. We have been happily married for nine years and counting now. I happen to believe I married the most wonderful man who could not make me any happier than he does.

And there's our story.