Carla Anderson with her husband, Lieutenant Colonel Michael Anderson

Carla Anderson with her husband, Lieutenant Colonel Michael Anderson

REO Speedwagon says it best….”what started out as friendship has grown stronger.” In 1987, we met in the dining hall Holcombe and Futrall shared. In the beginning I thought he was totally obnoxious and even told my roommate that I hoped he never learned my name. This was because he came into the dining hall and shouted across the room to the girl he was dating at that time. I still remember the look on her face, and I certainly did not ever want to experience that feeling.

He was an ROTC guy, I was a music major; our paths certainly would never cross. Boy was I wrong. Our worlds crossed second semester when our circle of friends became one and the same. I wanted to remember that declaration of hoping he never learned my name, but as time passed, that feeling passed as well.

Valentine’s day 1988 was fast approaching, and he knew this would be my first, in a long time, without a valentine. He went out and got a rather large — as in a foot tall-card, and had all of the guys in our circle of friends sign the card. He wanted me to feel special. Special is definitely what I felt, and I was no longer afraid for him to know my name.

Military Ball falls around Valentine’s weekend. I encouraged him to ask a girl he used to date. Secretly I found myself wishing it was me that he wanted to take. The evening of the ball arrived and he looked so dashing in his uniform, my heart skipped a beat. He departed for his date and I went with my friend to the Holcombe/Futrall valentine mixer. One of the decorations at the mixer was a sticky note heart that read “I love my man in uniform.” Without thinking, I grabbed the heart from the wall and stuck it to my shirt. He came in from his ball, still looking dashing. He approached me, looked at the sticky note on my shirt and smiled. He asked if that was for him, I blushed and quietly answered, possibly.

Ten days later, he was my valentine. Three years later he proposed on the night of Military Ball. Twenty one years later, I still have that sticky note heart that reads: “I love my man in uniform,” and I still do.

Have a Hog Tale of your own? Submit your story today and have it featured in a future issue of @Arkansas or Alumni Matters!