Great Grandma Katie and Doug --A Love Story in Two Parts

 

GG Katie and Doug: Katie's 80th Birthday

He is survived by his wife of 33 years, Kay K. Cook 

    I begin this remembrance of our Doug by telling you how he became a part of your family. 

    Yes, we were married for 33 years, but if you do your math you will see that we got married later in life, after we had both been married before and after we had children of our own. We had been together since 1989, and we married June 22, 1991 at St. Aidan's in Boulder.  I was 51 and Doug had just turned 54.  Because we lived into our 80s, those 33 year were a gift.

    So how did two older people with families of their own get together?  Doug was a professor in the English Department at the University of Colorado, and I was a graduate student working on my doctorate. We had known each other in passing for quite a while and sometimes had conversations. Doug's specialty was Early British Literature and Shakespeare, but I was specializing in 19th Century British Literature and also women's literature, so our paths never crossed that way. I was never a student. Doug was, however, Director of Undergraduate Studies, and that meant he assigned classes to all faculty and to doctoral students, who were given lower level literature classes to teach. So I would submit my class requests to him every semester.

    In the fall of 1988, André and I rented a large house on University Avenue with my friends Jill and her son William  and also Robin. Jill and Robin were also doctoral students.  We had lots of room and we could afford to live there since we were sharing the rent. It was a good time.

    It was Jill who started it all! I think she was assigned Introduction to Literature for fall teaching. Doug had called all those teachers together before the semester began, just to go over with them what genres they were expected to cover, and possibly the number of papers and exams to give, just so there would be some consistency across the 20 or so classes that would be taught that semester.

    Jill came home from that meeting and swept into the kitchen with one important takeaway from that meeting. "I am convinced you and Doug Burger should be together," she announced to Robin and me.  We both nodded, but I didn't think much about it. I liked Doug, certainly. Everyone did. But I certainly wasn't looking to "get together" with anyone. 

    But Jill got to work. She called Doug's secretary to ask if Doug was seeing anyone. She learned that there was a woman who called him frequently, but other than that, she didn't know.  Then we all got caught up in the semester with our teaching and working on our dissertations and parenting, so the idea of Doug was pushed into the background.  Until the end of the semester, that is. That's when Jill got back to work.

    "We'll have an end of semester Christmas party for all our friends and we'll invite Doug," Jill announces. Robin and I were fine with that. We worked hard cleaning house and making food, and inviting people. Jill issued the invitation to Doug. He was sorry, he said, he couldn't make it. He had a final to give that night. But Jill persisted. "Fine. Then come after the final. You'll be tired, and we'll have plenty of food and wine, and you can relax." I'm pretty sure she kept on it until Doug had no choice no choice but to say,"Yes." 

    He in fact did show up around 10pm when our party was in full swing.

    I’m not all that clear about all the events of that night, but I do remember the piano episode quite clearly. We were singing and dancing when Jill decided I was time to sing Christmas carols . Only Robin and I knew that she had been practicing the carols on the piano she brought with her when we moved in. Everyday we had had to listen to her tortured and careful working out the chords. She thought she was ready for the big night, but when she started playing, it was with that same tortured pounding on the keys with her eyes glued to the music. We tried to sing, but it was like “Deck. The. Halls. With. Bows of. Hol. Ly. 🎵🎵

    After we sweated through that song, Keith Thomas took over, very gallantly and really not condescending, although we were all wondering how we would get through the evening dragging out each note. “Here,” he said. ‘Let me relieve you and you can get back to dancing,” in that smooth British accent we all swooned over.

    Alas. Keith was much better than Jill’s attempt, but still. With great confidence he began “Silver bells. Silver bells. It’s Christ…mas timeinthecity.”

    I later told Doug that he had literally shoved Keith off the piano bench. As Keith staggered to get his balance, Doug began a beautifully executed performance of “Silver bells,” followed by any number of other carols and we all sighed with relief and sang heartily.  

    I have to say, some little ember in my in my somewhat hardened heart caught the musical notes that came from Doug’s playing, like a fresh breeze blowing over a tiny ember, awakening it to life. Doug played so easily and happily and the mood of the party changed and so did mine. A man who played the piano. I wanted to know more.

    The rest is history, sort of. Just as Doug and I were getting to know each other—we took a hike and had coffee together, (A side note: getting to know someone in the Rocky Mountains always involves taking a hike.) I accepted a teaching job in Utah.

(To be continued…)

Doug and Brett. The only picture I have of him at the piano