Roasting Stephanie

“Love is blind,” they say.  But, I’d like to think that I have my eyes wide open when it comes to the love of life, my wife Stephanie Gregory, who’s here today to be roasted.

Many of you know Stephanie as an educator, a church deacon, and a wife, mother, and daughter.  But today I’m going to try to fill out your picture of Stephanie a little by sharing with you a little about two of her other traits, her mischievous sense of humor and her penchant for footwear.

Stephanie gets her mischievous sense of humor partly from her family.  And one group of people she shares it with is her students.  Stephanie teaches elementary school over in New Albany.  First thing in the morning she may be speaking with some of her students about where they live.  After reporting to her what neighborhood they live in, they turn to Stephanie and say:  “Mrs. Gregory – where do you live?”  Stephanie says, “I live in Louisville.”  And her students ask:  “How do you get here?”  Without batting an eyelid, point to her wet hair, Stephanie says:  “Well, I swim, of course.”  Believe it or not, Stephanie’s second graders usually believe her.  Her fourth-graders – not so much. 

Stephanie also shares her sense of humor with the kids at church.  For example, after worship, she might say to now five-year-old Rose, granddaughter of Martha Miller, “You’re coming home with me, right?  Little Rose looks a little worried and then says, “Uh . . . I think I’m going home with . . . my parents.”  Once in a while, Stephanie pulls out all the stops, and gets caught.  Rose loves pink, and one Sunday Stephanie said:  “Rose, you’re coming home with me.  We’ve got a pink house, and I just got a pink car!”  Without hesitating, Rose said.  “Sure!  Let’s go!  I want to see the pink car.”  Well, Stephanie doesn’t have a pink car.  I don’t remember how she finessed things, but she was caught.

We’ve talked about Stephanie’s mischievous sense of humor.  Now I want to talk about her penchant for footwear.  When Stephanie was growing up, she lived with her Grandmother a lot.  One morning at the breakfast table, she said:  “Grandma, I think we need to buy me some more shoes.  I’m out of shoes.”  Grandma Gregory looked puzzled, but she said:  “Are you sure?  Let’s go up to your room and see.”  Stephanie was a little hesitant, but up they went.  Grandma Gregory went into Stephanie’s closet, and counted 89 shoes.  She was very stern with Stephanie:  “You’re like a little Imelda Marcos.  This is way too many shoes.  Why don’t we go through your shoes?  I bet some of them don’t fit or are worn out.  And some of them you have probably forgotten about and will still fit and still look great.  They’ll be like new shoes.”

Ironically or not, Stephanie grew up to have problem feet.  She’s generally tackled this now, but one of her strategies has been to buy good, expensive shoes, especially Dansko and Birkenstocks.  Vincent and I got used to her buying these shoes.  In fact, Stephanie and I went to a co-ed bridal shower for one of her colleagues a few years ago, and we played a Newlywed-type game where Stephanie and I had to answer the same questions, separately, and then we’d see if our answers agreed.  We were asked how much Stephanie had paid for her last pair of shoes, and I didn’t hesitate.  I said “$120.”  I knew that because that’s how much all of her pairs of shoes cost.

Stephanie still goes astray occasionally, and sometimes she gets caught.  Every once in a while, Stephanie comes home and tells our son Vincent and me:  “I bought some shoes, and I got a great deal.”  “A great deal” is always a bad sign.  Vincent asks:  “How much did they cost?”  And Stephanie hesitates and says, for example:  “$65.”  And both Vincent and I yell at her.  I say:  “$65?  You know what’s going to happen.  You’re going to wear them a couple of times, and then you’re going to have to give them away, because they’ll kill your feet.”  Vincent and I have the “$100 rule.”  If the shoes cost less than $100, Stephanie has no business buying them.

Stephanie has gotten caught in other circumstances too.  One summer Stephanie lived for a couple months in my little apartment in Illinois.  The apartment was furnished kind of primitively and only had a little 1950s black and white TV, that we somehow got attached to cable.  It only got the three basic stations, plus Fox, PBS, the Weather Channel, and QVC.

One night Stephanie called me and said:  “I was watching TV tonight and saw a great deal on QVC, but they were Birkenstocks, and they’ll match a couple of my outfits great, and so I bought them.”  I said:  “Honey . . . . what . . . color . . . are . . . they?”  Stephanie hesitated, and looked nervous, and then said:  “I don’t know.”  It turns out that the shoes did match some of her outfits, but when she bought them she had no idea if this was the case, because she was watching a black and white TV.

I’ve tried to share with you something about Stephanie’s lesser known traits, like her mischievous sense of humor, and her penchant for footwear.  I’ve also hinted out how she sometimes uses these traits in her public roles, like when she kids her students and bonds with guests at church about shoes.  I feel can give you a broader perspective on Stephanie.  After all, I’m in love, but I’m not blind.

 - Perry