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Monday, February 14, 2011

A Story for Valentine's Day

Following the theme put forward by two of my favorite bloggers, here's the short but snazzy tale of how my parents met.  They both grew up in Akron, Ohio, although in different neighborhoods.  They both went through the Depression and both had two siblings.  Then the War came and they both enlisted in the Navy.  This was quite a stretch for my mother, who has always suffered mightily from sea sickness.  However, she only had to suffer from San Diego to Hawaii, where she spent the war.  I believe she flew back...

The War ends and, like most of their friends, they head to college, thanks to Uncle Sam.  My dad had put in a year before the War, so he was back to finish his engineering degree.  One day, in line at the cafeteria, my dad saw my mom.  She was quite the looker.  He asked all his fraternity brothers and everyone else he could get his hands on who she was.  They met at a mixer and he asked her out.  I should interject here that my dad had a reputation as something of a "wolf".  But he was persistent and she decided to take a chance and go out with him.  He was on his best behaviour and managed to completly capitvate my grandmother - not an easy accomplishment.  As he says, once he met my mom, he wasn't about to lose her.  They've been married going on 62 years.

7 comments:

  1. What a romantic story. 62 years, well I tip my glass to them.

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  2. 62 years... how amazing and inspiring! Thanks for sharing!

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  3. Aw, what a sweet story. 62 years . . . do they think it's gonna last?

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  4. Wonderful story, and oh, how I wish they lived here! I am putting together a "Living History: WWII" class for 8th graders in our homeschool co-op, and am searching for WWII veterans and others with first-hand experience of that era to speak to the students. I do have two Dutch survivors of Japanese POW camps lined up, but need some veterans!

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  5. Jane and Fiona: Yes, 62 years. Of course, they didn't have me, their eldest child, until they were WAY into their 40s. Not.

    Mama Pea: I do believe there are some days when it's iffy. For about a minute.

    Michelle: My dad can wax poetic about the war and his time in it. And he does, often.

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  6. Susan, you may tire of the frequent retellings, but the "Greatest Generation" is dying off rapidly and soon there will be no more from whom we can hear first-hand accounts. As you probably read on my blog, I went to hear a Holocaust survivor speak; same thing. I'm reading his book now, and learned that he didn't tell his story until his late 70s, because it seemed more important to "succeed," and no one, not even his wife and two sons wanted to hear about the past. There are too many in this world (and not just "skin-heads") who believe, or want to make others believe, that the Holocaust never happened. History is constantly being rewritten....

    Sorry for the soap box! Ever since I was in grade school, I have loved old people and found them far more interesting than my peers.

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  7. Michelle - don't get me wrong. I love hearing the stories and letting him relive his glory years. His recall of details during that time is amazing. The more we know about history, the more we can be aware of not letting some of it repeat itself - i.e., the Holocaust.

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