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CHAPTER 10
A Serious Step
I
've always been called Candy,” she said, “but my name
is Lacena Rustin.”
Momentarily I stared, mesmerized by her smile. “Nice
to meet you,” I replied.
She was one of many freshmen I met that day at the
Grosse Pointe Country Club. Many of Michigan's wealthiest
citizens live in Grosse Pointe, and tourists often come to
admire the homes of the Fords and Chryslers. Yale was
hosting a freshmen reception for new students, and I,
along with a number of upperclassmen, attended to
welcome students from Michigan. It had meant a lot to me
to have some connections when I first went away to
college, and I enjoyed meeting and helping the new
students whenever I could.
Candy was pretty. I remember thinking That's one good
looking girl. She had an exuberance about her that I liked.
She was bubbly, sort of all over the place, talking to this
one and that. She laughed easily, and during the few
minutes that we talked she made me feel good.
At five feet seven, Candy was about half a foot shorter
than I am. Her hair fluffed around her face in the popular
Afro style. But most of all, I was drawn to her effervescent
personality. Maybe because I tend to be quiet and
introspective, and she was so outgoing and friendly, I
admired her from the start.
At Yale, mutual friends often said, “Ben, you ought to
get together with Candy.” I later found out that friends
would say to her, “Candy, you and Ben Carson ought to
get together. You just seem right together.”
Though I was beginning my third year of college when
we met, I definitely wasn't ready for love. With my lack of
finances, my single-minded goal to become a doctor, and
the long years of study and internship that I faced, falling
in love was the last thing on my mind. I'd come too far to
get sidetracked by romance. Another factor entered into
the picture, too. I'm rather shy and hadn't done much
dating. I'd gone out with small groups, dated now and
then, but had never gotten into any serious relationship.
And I didn't plan on any either.
Once school began, I saw Candy occasionally since we
were both in the premed program. “Hi,” I'd call out. “How
are you doing in your classes?”
“Fantastic,” she'd usually say.
“You're adjusting all right then?” I asked the first time.
“I think I'm going to get straight A's.”
As we chatted I'd think, This girl must be really smart.
And she was.
I was even more amazed when I learned that she
played violin in the Yale Symphony and Bach Society—not
a position for just anybody who could play an instrument.
These folks were top-grade musicians. As the weeks and
months passed by, I learned more and more intriguing
things about Candy Rustin. The fact that she was musically
talented and knew classical music gave us something to
talk about as we'd pass from time to time on campus.
However, Candy was just another student, a nice
person, and I didn't have any particularly warm feelings
toward her. Or perhaps, with my head in my books and
my sights set on medical school, I wouldn't let myself
consider how I really felt about the bright and talented
Candy Rustin.
About the time Candy and I started talking more often
and for longer periods, the church in New Haven which I
attended needed an organist.
I had mentioned our choir director, Aubrey Tompkins,
to Candy several times, because he was an important part
of my life. After I joined the church choir, Aubrey would
come by and pick me up on Friday evenings for rehearsal.
During my second year my roommate Larry Harris, who
was also an Adventist, joined the choir. Often on Saturday
nights Aubrey took Larry and me to his home, and we
grew to know his family well. At other times he showed us
the sights of New Haven. An opera buff, Aubrey invited me
several times to go with him on Saturday nights to the
Metropolitan Opera in New York.
“Say, Candy,” I told her one day, “I just thought of
something. You're a musician. Our church needs an
organist. What do you think? Would you be interested in
the job? They pay the organist, but I don't know how
much.”
She didn't even hesitate. “Sure,” she said, “I'd like to
try it.”
Then I paused with a sudden thought. “Do you think you
could play the music? Aubrey gives us some difficult stuff.”
“I can probably play anything with practice.”
So I told Aubrey Tompkins about Candy. “Fantastic!” he
responded. “Have her come for an audition.”
Candy came to the next choir rehearsal and played the
large electric organ. She played well, and I was happy just
to see her up there, but the violin was her instrument. She
could play anything written for the violin. And although
Candy had played the organ for her high school
baccalaureate service, she hadn't had much of an
opportunity to keep in practice. She had no idea that
Aubrey Tompkins liked to throw us into the heavy stuff,
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