Publisher Column: Persistence pays off

By Randy Capps

Unless you’re a tortoise or a tree, 25 years is a long time. By the time this issue sees the light of day, that’s how long I will have been married to the lovely and talented Shanna Capps.

We’re planning to celebrate the occasion in Jamaica, which is a notion that sits in stark contrast to the winter morning that’s unfolding around me right now. It has been a remarkable journey, resulting in a lifetime of happy memories. But it almost wasn’t so.

I met Shanna in the fall of 1997. I was a senior at Gardner-Webb, and somehow I had a weekend free at home. I decided to ride around Dillon (S.C.) with some friends, and they introduced me to my future wife.

It was not love at first sight. I think Shanna would say that I was cute, but also a slang word for a donkey. I would say that she was breathtaking, but not exactly my type.

At that moment, she became my type. The problem is that I still wasn’t hers. I asked her out the first time, and I think she literally laughed at me before saying no.

I was as stubborn then as I am now, so I kept at it. Finally, I hatched a plan. Years before Barney Stinson coined the phrase, “super date” on “How I Met Your Mother,” I decided to plan one.

I called Shanna at work (which she loved, by the way), and I made her a deal. “Go on one date with me, and if you don’t have a good time, I’ll never ask you again.”

She agreed, seeking a chance to be rid of me. What happened instead was the best a poor recent college graduate could manage in rural South Carolina with limited access to the Internet and a nearly maxed out credit card.

We drove to North Myrtle Beach, and the hour or so in the car gave me a chance to introduce her to one of my favorite bands, Better Than Ezra. We had dinner at Fuddrucker’s and went to see BTE in concert at the House of Blues.

No trip to the beach is complete without a moonlight stroll on the sand, so we did that as well. And, with an eye on keeping her parents happy, I still had her home on time.

She kissed me in the driveway, and the rest is history.