Magnificent Desolation (25 page)

A few weeks later, in mid-January I invited Lois to accompany me to another event, in Hawaii and Lois readily accepted. The day before we departed, however, Lois called my house, and a former girlfriend of mine answered the phone.

“Who are you?” Lois asked.

“I’m a friend of Buzz’s. Who are you?” she asked belligerently.

“Please have Buzz call me,” Lois replied, and hung up the phone. When I called, of course, it took some explaining to convince Lois that the woman who answered the telephone was a friend from my recovery group, a feature from my past, rather than a present girlfriend. Lois reluctantly accepted my apology, and agreed to go along to Hawaii for a space conference in Honolulu. Following the conference, we spent a couple of days at a good friend of mine’s hotel in Kona on the Big Island. It was the week of my fifty-sixth birthday, and Lois wanted to celebrate, but after a day or two in Kona, for no explainable reason, I felt that I was falling into a blue funk. I didn’t want to leave our hotel room; in fact, I didn’t even want to get out of bed. In Honolulu, I had presented my Mars cycler concept to President Reagan’s advisory panel on the U.S. space program. The members listened attentively, but I came away disappointed, wondering if my words had fallen on deaf
ears. That partially explained my emotional turmoil. But perhaps I was also suffering from a guilty conscience, since I had planned to go see a former girlfriend in Florida following this trip to Hawaii.

Lois was baffled. Here we were, in a gorgeous, picturesque, romantic setting in Kona, and I didn’t want to go outside. So I didn’t. I stayed in bed and watched the news.

One afternoon, Lois returned from the beach and overheard me talking on the telephone: “Okay, Scott, my dear. I just wanted you to know that I’m not coming to Florida.”

Lois’s interest was immediately piqued. “Oh, are you going to Florida?” she asked. “Who were you talking to?”

“Yes, I was scheduled to go to Florida.”

“Oh, why were you going?”

“I have a friend there whom I was going to see.”

“Male or female?”

“Scott, an old girlfriend,” I answered honestly.

“You were planning to go there, while I’m here with you in Hawaii?” I could see the hurt and disappointment in Lois’s face.

“I’m not sure I can handle this,” she said quietly. “I think I’ll go back to Sun Valley to ski.” The remainder of our time in Hawaii was rather cool, and I don’t mean the air temperature. Lois was clearly upset, and I couldn’t get outside of myself far enough to understand why she was angry. We returned to California, and Lois set off to Idaho. “I’ll be back at the end of March,” she said, “but don’t bother to call.”

I had thought that Lois was the love of my life; instead, it seemed that our whirlwind relationship had come to a sudden and ignominious end.

   13

A
LONE AGAIN AT MY CALIFORNIA HOME, I TRIED TO GET
back into the normal swing of life—life without Lois. I was not expecting the emptiness, or that gnawing in the pit of my stomach, and I was surprised at the pervasive sense of loneliness I felt without her. I couldn’t understand it. I had broken up with women before, and simply gone on to the next interesting person I met. I mentally reviewed all the usual lines: “There are plenty of fish in the sea.” “Too bad; her loss.” “Don’t let the door hit you as you leave.” I knew I could go to another party somewhere in Beverly Hills, flash my medals or tell a few stories about the moon, and leave the party with a beautiful woman on my arm. But I didn’t want to do that. More and more as the days passed between January and March, I wanted Lois. Strange as it may sound, I liked
me
better because of her; I liked the person I was when I was with her. She motivated me, and she jolted me out of my scientific studies and space dreams long enough to enjoy social gatherings filled with new and interesting people.

I smiled as I thought of her. How had that petite bundle of positive energy so boldly entered the inner recesses of my psyche and stolen away with my heart? And how had I been so foolish as to let her get away? I liked Lois; I didn’t want to lose her; Lois was unlike any other woman I had known. Lois was different. Lois was … special.

L
OIS’S MOTHER
, Effie Olena Killian, was a beautiful woman of Norwegian descent, whose family lived in Thatcher, Arizona. Her father, Douglas H. Driggs, hailed from Driggs, Idaho; his family had founded the town, set in the picturesque valley west of the Grand Tetons, that today hosts the popular ski resort Grand Targhee. In 1921 the family traded all of their holdings, including a bank, hotel, and wheat farm for over 300 acres of farmland planted with cotton near Phoenix, Arizona. As cotton prices plummeted, they lost their entire investment and had to start over. But that did not dissuade either of Lois’s parents, who were from hardworking, prominent pioneer Mormon families, and who followed their faith with every footstep.

Lois Adele Driggs was born November 2, 1929—just a couple of months before me—in Miami, Arizona, a small mining town. Along with two brothers and one sister, she grew up in the Phoenix area, where her father, an enterprising businessman, opened a bank during the Depression years. Douglas Driggs traveled the surrounding ranching and mining communities, using his trust-evoking and spirited enthusiasm to influence new customers to pay twenty-five dollars to open a savings account. His reputation for honesty met with success, and the bank became known as the Western Savings and Loan Association— eventually becoming the eleventh-largest state-chartered savings-and-loan company in America, with over $5 billion in assets. As the business prospered, the family rose in the social echelons of the Phoenix/Scottsdale area.

Lois’s childhood was like a Norman Rockwell painting; everything was perfect. She studied tap, toe, and acrobatic dancing, as well as the popular boogie-woogie and swing styles on the piano. She was an active drama student who participated in several plays in high school and college, and she readily made friends wherever she went.

In her deeply religious family, Lois was sometimes a bit of a black sheep, wishing for more than the cloistered, conservative lifestyle fostered by the church. Her father, however, wanted her to attend
Brigham Young University in Utah, to be in a “Mormon environment.” As a compromise, Lois agreed to go to the University of Utah (U of U). In those post–World War II days, college women rarely entered the workforce, so their education often focused on the liberal arts, rather than preparing for a career. Lois’s parents hoped that in the Utah environment she would at least by graduation find a good Mormon husband, settle down, and start a family. But Lois had different ideas. She balanced her studies and social life with a special emphasis on learning to ski during her two years at the U of U Despite the joy of skiing, Lois found Salt Lake City somewhat ethnocentric, and yearned for a more diverse college atmosphere. She applied to Stanford University in Palo Alto, California, and encouraged her older brother, John, to do the same. They were both accepted, and one September day they drove off in a big yellow Chevrolet convertible toward a new world at Stanford.

Life on “The Farm,” as Stanford is known by its students and alumni, proved to be everything Lois and John expected, and then some. John was quickly initiated into a fraternity (there were no sororities at Stanford at the time), and introduced Lois to his fraternity brothers, many of whom were football players. The star halfback, Emery Mitchell, grew attracted to Lois. As Emery and Lois dated, the reputation that followed her from high school on through college remained intact: she had high morals and was “hard to get.” She never went steady with one fellow, although she could have. Even the beaus she dated on numerous occasions suffered along without a single kiss. But that didn’t stop the many Stanford men who saw her as good marriage material, and by graduation, she had several proposals. To their disappointment, Lois was holding herself in reserve for her one true love, her Prince Charming.

Nevertheless, Lois made numerous lasting friends at Stanford, many of whom went on to great success, such as Sandra Day, a bright young woman with whom Lois struck up a friendship that flourished when Sandra and her husband John O’Connor moved to Phoenix to practice law. Years later, Sandra became America’s first female Supreme Court Justice.

Upon graduation from Stanford with a degree in education, Lois decided to take her fifth year at UCLA to satisfy the requirement to teach. She had another motivation to stay in California as well, since she was becoming increasingly interested in a young man she had dated during her senior year at Stanford, Bill Edwards, whose family lived in Long Beach. Bill had enrolled at Harvard Business School, so Lois would see him at Christmas and over the summer. Bill’s mother talked so enthusiastically about her own teaching career at Hawthorne School in Beverly Hills that Lois applied for a position there, and began teaching third grade the following year. But Lois’s romance with Bill did not last beyond the summer. The odds were against them: Bill’s father thought Lois was too short, and Lois’s father felt that Bill was unlikely to become a Mormon. Indeed, Bill married a tall, beautiful girl who lived next door. Lois finished out the school year at Hawthorne and was offered the chance to renew her contract, but decided her heart was not in teaching. She would take the next year off to tour Europe.

Lois’s European travels—with arrangements made by her family to meet and stay with many of their Rotarian friends in cities all over Europe and Scandinavia—combined two of her great passions: socializing and skiing. She met counts and barons and other titled members of Europe’s oldest families, as well as many renowned European ski racers. Somewhere between the mountains and après-ski activities, Lois came to know Stein Erickson, a Norwegian ski hero on whom she developed a crush. The relationship never developed, but Lois’s skiing did. We are all friends today, and often ski and dine together in Deer Valley, Utah.

Lois returned home after her year abroad, and with the Christmas season approaching, she and her brother, John, decided to drive to Sun Valley, Idaho, to ski. On the way, they stopped over in Salt Lake City and attended a Mormon fireside singles social event. Lois was introduced to Bryant Cannon, a handsome six-foot bachelor and a former University of Utah football star who worked for IBM. He was seven years older than Lois, and quite dapper. They talked and clicked.

Lois and her brother drove on to Sun Valley the next day, but the
skiing conditions were poor, so they decided to return to Salt Lake. That night they had dinner at the home of Lois’s college friend Alice Creer. Lois was looking for someone to ski with the next day. During dinner, Bryant Cannon called Alice to confirm his date with her the following night. Alice mentioned that Lois was there, and suggested to Bryant that he take her skiing. Remembering Lois from the fireside singles event, he responded positively, possibly a bit too quickly for Alice’s liking.

Bryant picked up Lois and they skied all day together at Utah’s Alta resort. The snow glistened in the crisp winter air as they rode the chair lifts, talked, and swooshed down the hill. That night Bryant had the nerve to cancel his date with Alice and take Lois out instead. And Lois had the nerve to accept! Her friend Alice recognized that love was in the air and encouraged Lois to be cautious of this very popular Salt Lake bachelor. Disregarding the advice, Lois skied with Bryant the next two days as well. Already, their budding relationship was gathering momentum.

The following night was New Year’s Eve, and Bryant invited Lois to a party at the Fort Douglas Club. It was a gorgeous enchanting evening with mistletoe inside, and light snow falling outside as the couple danced their way out onto the porch balcony. Bryant looked at Lois adoringly and kissed her. Lois responded, and apparently bells rang for both of them. Bryant moved fast, as if he were running for a touchdown. “I think we should get married,” he said.

Amazingly, Lois found herself replying, “I think that would be perfect.”

As far as she was concerned, this was a match made in heaven. Although they had known each other for less than four days, she felt that Bryant was the man for her. He was handsome, physically appealing, highly intelligent, a great skier, and best of all, he came from one of the most prominent Mormon families in America.

They planned to marry in February, less than two months away, just in time to catch the boat to Europe for Bryant’s next assignment with IBM.

Lois and her family spent the short window of time preparing for the large wedding in Phoenix. The Cannon family arrived and everyone began to get acquainted, since few of them had met previously. Lois commented, “I am so happy to get married and raise a family, and I’m never going to teach school again.”

“Never?” Bryant asked. “What if we don’t have enough money and we need you to teach?”

“Oh, you have a good job,” Lois replied. “We’ll always have enough money.” Bryant’s concerns about money should have been a red flag to Lois, but, in the midst of her pre-wedding bliss, she ignored it.

Bryant’s brother, Mark Cannon, a Harvard Ph.D. who later developed a career as the administrative assistant to U.S. Supreme Court Chief Justice Warren Burger, unwittingly provided keen insight into Bryant’s personality As he surveyed the Driggs family home, he remarked to Lois, “I guess your reputation is true. You are known as one of the richest and cutest girls in the church.”

Lois took Mark’s words as a compliment; she should have taken them as a warning.

Lois and Bryant were married in the Mormon church, though in their daily lifestyles neither of them adhered strictly to its religious standards. After a second reception in Salt Lake, they were off to Europe. Lois and Bryant remained married for twenty-seven years. For all that time, she was as happy as a lamb and never suspected that her husband was anything other than faithful and content. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Lois and Bryant set up their home in Frankfurt, Germany, in February 1955. Ironically, at about that same time, I had just married Joan, and we were expecting our first child in September of that year. We were stationed at Bitburg, Germany, where I flew supersonic jets as part of a nuclear strike force that could deliver atomic bombs deep into Soviet-occupied Eastern Europe.

Lois and I never met during that time, despite Bryant’s work on several military computer installations. At a reception for some military personnel for whom Bryant was setting up computer systems, Lois
was her usual witty and vibrant self. Bryant, however, was not pleased. After the party, he was irate. “Lois, how could you be like that?”

“Like what?”

“You were too much. Too outgoing. You need to be more subdued.” It was the first of many instances in which Bryant attempted to squelch Lois’s lively personality. Lois tried her best to hold back and not overshadow him, but felt stifled by Bryant’s preference that she restrain her enthusiasm. She became pregnant with their first child in 1955, soon after their arrival in Frankfurt, and a daughter, Lisa, was born in November of that year. From Frankfurt, Lois and Bryant moved to England, where, nineteen months later, in June 1957, Lois gave birth to their second daughter, Brynn.