Commemorating 75 Years

My mom and dad married 75 years ago today. The union lasted more than 65 years. My dad died almost a decade ago; my mom died last month. Ironically, my parents cautioned me against marrying young, even though at 20 I was the same age as my dad and a year older than my mom. I will celebrate 34 years with the same woman next month. So all those statistics about couples marrying young and not working out aren’t quite true. My parents actually hid their wedding from their relatives until July. Still in the grips of the Great Depression, my mom continued to live at home and worked to support her family. My dad drove back to Springfield on weekends after attending Park College in Kansas City, Mo., during the week. Rather than their regular church minister, a high school teacher who also was ordained performed the ceremony. Not until recently did my brother and I learn that my dad actually picked up the marriage license in Clinton en route one day. The discovery of the clandestine nuptials came a couple of months after the event when my mother became ill and had to visit a local hospital. My grandparents took her to the hospital and when my dad showed up he divulged the relationship had moved beyond courting.

I guess it says something about the longevity of the marriage to consider they still had a child — me — 21 years into it.