The first time that I heard the name Sutton Papanikolas my daughter, Elizabeth, was telling me about a new guy that she had met that wanted to take her fishing. She was living in San Diego and I wasn’t sure if he planned to take her “deep-sea fishing” or “lake fishing” like we do in Michigan. Turns out he never took her fishing at all. I’m not sure where they went or what they did on their first date. Really doesn’t matter now. When I heard the Greek name I envisioned that Sutton would be about five foot ten or eleven, be of medium build and have jet black hair. I obtained my vision of what a Greek man might look like from the movie “Beneath the 12 Mile Reef”.
The first time I met Sutton was late spring, or early summer, of 2008. Elizabeth and Sutton met Ruth and I in Las Vegas. This seemed a good place for our initial meeting because if the meeting didn’t go well, we’d all have other things to do to pass the time. He wasn’t anything like I first envisioned. He wasn’t truly Greek. He just had a Greek last name. An adoption had taken place somewhere up the relative line and he had a Greek name but no Greek ancestors.
I knew from Elizabeth’s description of him what to expect. He was six-foot three and change, sandy-haired, smooth talkin and handsome. He commanded a presence when he walked into the room. I liked him.
He had been the member of several bands dating back to his college days and still performed with a group called “The Wagon”. He played guitar and was the lead singer. I looked up the group on-line and discovered from their website that they planned an European tour within the year.
When I asked him about his European tour he explained that was no longer in the group’s plans. It was a dream that wasn’t going to come true. Music was a hobby, not a vocation. He probably sensed from my questions that I didn’t want my daughter to speed her life living on the road lugging guitar cases around the country for “her man”. As I continued the interrogation, I asked him another musical question. It went something like this. “In a perfect world how often would you play a gig?” (That’s showbiz lingo for you novices.) “About once a month.” was his reply. I could live with once a month. It sounded like a hobby.
Later that summer, Sutton and Elizabeth came to visit us in Michigan. We knew that Elizabeth had been looking for a new home in San Diego. She and her two current roommates, Megan and Josh, were being forced out because the home owners planned to move back into their house. Megan, Elizabeth and Josh had a “Threes Company” type relationship.
When Ruth and I picked up Elizabeth and Sutton at Detroit Metro, I asked how the house hunting was going. Elizabeth told me that they had found a three bedroom home that Megan, Josh, she and Sutton planned to share. (I hadn’t considered Sutton’s involvement.) I quickly did the math, two females, two males, three bedrooms. I asked the obvious question, “Are you and Megan sharing a room, or will Sutton and Josh be sharing?”
Fearing the worst, I held my breath as Elizabeth asked, “Are we going to talk about this now?”
“Yes. I’ve got you both in the back seat for the next hour and twenty minutes so this sounds like a good time to me.”
As Elizabeth explained that she and Sutton would be sharing, I knew that Megan and Josh would have rooms of their own. I really didn’t care about the Megan and Josh arrangement, but that’s how the math worked. While we continued our conversation I did my best to not be judgmental. I listened intently to the explanation, offered up a few words to the conversation and soon realized that I was heading south towards Toledo instead of west towards Jackson. (So much for keeping my cool.) Ruth simply asked when the wedding would be taking place.
My third meeting with Sutton took place in California the following Thanksgiving season. The week-end prior to Thanksgiving, Sutton, Elizabeth, and our youngest son, Mike, joined Ruth and I in Palm Springs. We played golf and hung out together for a couple of days before they all headed back home.
Ruth and I drove to San Clemente on Thanksgiving day to have dinner with Mike and his fiancé, Kate, at Kate’s parent’s home. Sutton and Elizabeth drove up from San Diego and joined us there. We had a great time. The following day Ruth and I traveled to San Diego where we had breakfast with Sutton and Elizabeth. Sutton and I were alone for a brief period and he took the opportunity to ask me a question. The conversation went something like this.
Sutton: “Bob, you know that I love your daughter very much. I’d like to ask your permission to marry her.”
After a brief pause, and a deep breath, I asked. “Not that Elizabeth needs to be taken care of, but if the time came and she did need your care, are you ready to take care of her?”
Sutton: “Yes, sir.”
Me: “Well, Sutton, you know as well as I do that Elizabeth is going to do what she wants to do. So, if she’s in, I’m in.”
My reply wasn’t grand, but my blessing was sincere. I knew that they loved each other.
They married in April of 2010, lived for a few years in San Diego, and moved to Flagstaff, Arizona in November of 2015. While they’ve enjoyed their time in Flagstaff, they aren’t really ready to settle down, stay put, and establish permanent roots. Which brings me to today.
TBC
Looking forward to Sunday’s post!!! Question is it hard for you not to be judgmental?!??
I always pass judgement but do my best to keep my opinions to myself. You raise your children to be independent and then you don’t always like it when they are. I try to offer praise and keep my criticisms to myself. Doesn’t always work.
I like this story. Looking forward to what happens next.