The Love Story of Diane and Andy

In a boxy warehouse converted to a pub
you met while the band was on break:
the boy on the bicycle
the girl next door.
--For Diane and Andy, (c) 1984 Nancy Schoellkopf

I was indeed the boy next door; in 1982 I moved to an old house in East Sacramento; a rental. No insulation, only a wall heater, and no A/C and an electrical system that would not support more than a single window unit. It was a street of mostly widows; most 70 or older. One of them was Aloyse (al-oh-weeze) Aubery. I (rarely) played my guitar or banjo on the porch, and she used to listen; she told me once that her daughter can play guitar too, and just as my hopes rose, she added "her boyfriend taught her".

I worked at 15th and R Street in Sacramento; then a boring collection of tilt-up concrete wall offices, and next to the Palm Iron Works, a steel fabricating company. South of R Street there was all day parking along the street; my office was a window and I could see all of the cars parked next to my office. One time I noticed a young woman in an old Camaro; a couple of times she got boxed and I could see her stewing inside angrily waiting for the cars on either side to leave.

My supervisor then was young and not very good at delegating; for months at a time I had little to do other than to fetch books for him from our library at another building at 12th and S Street. Because we had so many buildings in that area, 5 of us there bought a used bike together, and I would use that bike to get those books via the alley past yet another office building past their windows.

I would see that same young woman occasionally around at lunch when walking to Sam's Market at 14th and O Streets for a sandwich. I don't think we ever talked then.

And somewhere around then, I saw her again, across the street from my apartment/house; the woman I had talked to was her mother.  I think I said hi, and that was the extent of it.  I saw her again there; a few times I saw her leaving after what I thought might have been an argument between them. 

And all of this time, when I wasn't working, I was playing with my band, Whiskey Before Breakfast.  I will note here that there are MANY bands with this name; it is the name of a popular fiddle tune.  We played old-time appalachian music, Irish music, and our own unique versions of the occasional Beatles, Rolling Stones or Surfaris (Wipeout!) pieces.

The Last Whiskey Before Breakfast Performance

In addition, I did other music things and I met various people, though most of them I did not know well. One of them was another young woman named Dolores; I met her at a short-lived Irish session and talked to her a few times. 

We had a following, and we played the occasional wedding, various public events, the UC Davis Quad, the State Fair, and Friday nights every few months at the Fox and Goose Public House, which still is located 5 blocks down from my work at 10th and R Streets in Sacramento.  It was about the only place in Sacramento that you could hear acoustic music, the kind of acoustic music I liked, that is. 

On September 9, 1983, we played at the Fox and Goose. Normally, we would arrived about 8:30, set up, and then play from about 9:30 until everyone was gone; usually about 1 am.  We would get 15% of the bar as our pay; as our bartending friend Colm used to say, your fans don't drink enough, I can't give you much.  On a good night, we would each take home $20, but more often it was less.  My joke for this is that we make enough money as a band for one person to starve. 

We played until probably midnight and started packing up and loading up our cars; and right there in the entrance, I saw the bodhran-player I had seen before, Dolores, with that gal I had seen across the street from my house and outside my office window.  I said "Hey, I know you! I live across from your mom and I see you at work!"; that was Diane, my wife of 37 years. 

I discovered later that she had noticed me, too, and was waiting for me to say something, which I never did until September 9, 1983.   Having 4 sisters, I am well versed in how to be a (hopefully) decent brother, and I had a good friend at work, Stephanie, who sat next to me and was my honorary sister. She had 3 brothers, so she had the sister thing down as well.  I told her about meeting Diane, and after a few months, she told me "You've got to ask her out or she's going to think you are not interested in her!".  
I didn't act right away.  Diane told me later that she had just about given up on me. 

But I still saw her visiting her mom; she was an only child, and her mom was a unique character in many ways, and their affection for each other occasionally boiled over. Diane did everything for her (which continued until Aloyse's death in January 2015, with the help of our children).  At 5 pm New Year's Eve, 2013, Diane brought some Greek Food over to her mom's house to celebrate; I was home; but I had been invited to my band mate Phil's party in Davis later in the evening.  I don't know what happened, but they argued right away, and Diane thought, what the hell, I'll go over and see if Andy wants to join us.  

I did, and our relationship pretty much started on that quick meal.  I did go to Phil's Party later, but my mind was elsewhere and I left after a short time.  We had a few dates; January is always a terrible movie month, but we saw a series of White Trash movies, including the movie Heart Like a Wheel, a bio of the first female Drag Racer, and then Silkwood.  We spent more and more time together; often when she visited she would park one block over so her mom wouldn't get jealous that she had stopped to see me and not her. Over the summer, I remember a 2 week period when I realized where this was going, and I needed to make the big decision.  I talked to a coworker, and that talk was not too helpful, but I knew she wanted to marry me, and I sure did, so we got engaged and married in February, 1985.  

And here we are, living in her aunt's house, 37 years later, 3 kids raised and grown, enjoying our lives immensely.