Friends sharing a ‘really good life’

“A word of advice: Never tell your kids to stay away from something,” Sharon Jeske said as she recalled her parents’ admonition in 1969 to “stay away from that guy” who lived across the street. After all, he had a motorcycle.

The “guy” was Randy Jeske, and as it turned out, Sharon’s parents were off the mark on this one. Sharon and Randy have been married for 37 years.

“So you disobeyed your parents and met him anyway?” I asked.

“I didn’t disobey them,” Sharon said. “I ignored them.” She smiled at Randy. The Jeskes smiled frequently at each other during our chat.

“I was a senior at Mead High School and his cousin also was a senior. She knew I wanted to meet him, so she introduced us.”

Love was in the air – not the fleeting, infatuated type of love but one that personifies soul mate.

“It was like we’d known each other all our lives,” Randy said. “The more we were around each other, the more we could finish each other’s sentences.”

While many struggle with relationship bumps, Randy and Sharon managed to steer around them or through them together.

What’s their secret?

“We’ve always been friends,” Sharon said. “When you’re friends first, the relationship is so much better because you talk about everything, and the communication in a friendship is, a lot of times, better than a married couple.”

“Marriage is tough,” Randy said. “As long as it’s your soul mate, you work together, you get through it. Our big deal was we never went to bed mad.”

“And don’t say things you don’t mean because you can’t take away those words,” Sharon added. “So, screaming and name-calling – we never went there.”

Sage advice, but even best friends clash at times. How do they handle that?

“Oh, I just stop talking to him,” Sharon laughed.

“Yeah,” Randy grumbled, “the silent treatment. I’m pretty good at the silent treatment myself.”

Randy worked at two jobs as a carpet layer and a pit mechanic in the stock car industry for 13 years while Sharon “chased two boys around.” The Jeskes’ sons were born “on the same day four years apart. That’s planned parenthood,” Sharon laughed.

The “stock car wives” also became part of the pit crew. “We were one of the first crews with women on the team,” Randy said proudly.

As the boys grew, family outings took precedence. Leaving the stock car trade behind, they took their kids camping, water-skiing and boating and got involved with school and sports.

“And we’ve always had the motorcycle,” Sharon said.

But in 1997, Randy became disabled, and they put their motor home, boat and motorcycle up for sale. “Of course, the motorcycle sold first,” Randy said.

With that sale came a promise – when he got better, they’d buy another.

In October 2001, Randy’s health improved, and the search for a motorcycle was on. A trip to the Harley-Davidson dealership turned into a stunner. “They had this gorgeous aqua blue touring bike,” Sharon said. “I told Randy, ‘I’ll buy that for you.’ ” Most would jump at such an offer.

“He said, ‘I don’t want it.’ As he walked away, the salesman said to him, ‘She’s willing to buy you a bike and you don’t want a Harley?’ He was shocked. So was I,” Sharon said.

“Why the reluctance?” I asked.

“I wasn’t reluctant really,” Randy said. “I just didn’t know. … The way my health had been, I didn’t know if I wanted to spend the money.”

On Randy’s birthday five months later, the couple returned to the Harley shop. “I told him to pick any bike he wanted,” Sharon said. “He bought a 2002 Heritage Softail.”

So what changed from October to March?

“Nothing changed other than we learned from then on that you’ve got to live your life,” Randy said.

In 2003, Randy had a heart attack.

“We’ve done so many different things on Valentine’s Day,” Sharon said. “This time, we were at the hospital and Randy said, ‘Boy, this is really fun for Valentine’s Day,’ and I said, ‘Hey, look at the bright side – we’ve never spent the day in a hospital.’ “

It wasn’t long before Sharon joined the ranks of motorcycle riders by getting her endorsement.

The Jeskes’ ever-present communication signals pulsed again when one morning at the Harley shop, Sharon had her eye on a bike but never mentioned it to Randy. Later that day, to Sharon’s surprise, they returned to the store and bought the bike. “He instinctively knew I wanted it,” Sharon said.

During our conversation, Randy repeated his philosophy about living life to the fullest.

“Have fun – life’s short,” he said. “Time passes you so fast that you sit back and you’re wishing you would’ve done things. We don’t like to do that. We like to go and do it.”

I asked if the heart attack was the defining moment for him.

“Actually, the moment for me was when my brother passed away. He was only 51, and it makes you rethink your theories on life – what’s important and what’s not. To us, it’s the Harleys and the grandkids,” he said.

“It’s great having grandkids. They’re awesome,” Sharon said. “Our granddaughter’s old enough now that she rides behind grandpa on the Harley.”

The Jeskes have clocked thousands of miles on their motorcycles over the past three years. Whatever life has thrown at them – illness, loss of family or a swarm of bugs smacking their helmets – these best friends have stuck through it together.

“I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat,” Randy said, smiling.

“We’re having a blast,” Sharon said. “We’ve had a really good life.”

“A really good life,” Randy said.