Carol and I met through music. We didn’t socialize at the time but we both performed together at Anchorage Community College when the Wendy Williamson Orchestra was entertaining audiences with jazz and swing music in the late 1970s. It turns out that, years earlier, Carol knew my sister Karen when they sat together performing in the pit orchestra for the musical Cabaret at Alaska Methodist University’s Grant Hall Theater. Carol alternated between Alto Sax and Clarinet as did my sister who was also quite talented.

Time passed and eventually Carol and I crossed paths again in a pep band for University of Alaska basketball games. Eventually, I took over direction of that band and called it The Front Row Seats Band. The name was a tribute to baseball broadcasting legend Bob Ueker. He always claimed that he had the best seats in the stadium even though it often meant sitting in the nose-bleed section. His logic was that any seat in a stadium is the best seat, much like any day fishing is better than a day sitting behind a desk.

Another reason for the Front Row Seats Band name was that we were nearly always placed in the front rows of the bleachers. It turns out that no one really enjoys sitting in front of a 20-piece group of musicians who know that playing loud is the key to earning floor seats at a sporting event. It was no coincidence that we were always seated directly behind the opposing team’s bench. Home field advantage included the noise factor. More than a few coaches from visiting squads may have been put off by the seating arrangements.

Anyway, Carol and I continued to float in similar circles in the early ’80’s. I noticed her and she probably denies noticing me at the time. Without a trumpet, camera or pen in my hands I’ve always been on the shy side when it comes to engaging others much less courting someone. I decided it was time to get up the nerve and ask Carol out on a date.

I love romantic comedies. Sleepless in Seattle, While you were sleeping, You’ve got mail … they all make me feel happy. I wanted my first date with Carol - if she said yes - to be a perfect Alaska-style meetup and came up with the idea of skating and a followup dinner. I did my research and learned that Carol was working at KTVA Channel 11. I mustered up the nerve to call her, expecting the best or worst possible outcome.

Here’s the conversation beginning with the receptionist at KTVA:

One of Carol’s many Alaska jobs included working for KTVA. KBYR was associated with the station and eventually they shared the same building. This photograph of KBYR is from the 1970s.

Me: Hi, may I speak with Carol? 

Receptionist: Sure, one moment, please.

 Carol: This is Carol. Me: Hi. This is David Jensen. We’ve talked before in the band. I’ve been thinking, ummmmm, that it would be nice to go out together. Would you like to join me to go skating at Westchester Lagoon this weekend and perhaps have some dinner afterward? 

 Carol: Oh, that sounds so nice and sweet and I’d love to. But I’m afraid you must have wanted to talk to the other Carol in the office.

 Me: Oh. Sorry. Is the other Carol available…

Eventually, the correct Carol picked up the phone. Since I’d already completed a dress rehearsal, I repeated my request with the correct Carol. She said Yes to My Mess either through pity, interest, comedy or a combination of it all.

One date turned into two, and Thirty First Dates and more. I’ve since learned that she never liked skating and never will.

We still laugh, cry and make music together. We’re two characters in three acts of our very own romantic comedy with a roll of the credits that includes friends and the truth about cats and dogs.