October 3

Sitting down to write a BLOG about this date causes me to rejoice and cry.  Sixty-six years ago, in my parents’ living room, I was married to the love of my life.  I promised to “love, honor, and obey.”  OBEY!  I am usually not and have never been a liar – but, full disclosure – I lied!  I obeyed my parents, but had no intention of obeying another human being.  Much less, someone who was six months younger than I.  But, I wanted to marry this man – so I lied!

Larry and I met in the library of Western State College (college, then – university, now).  It was my weekend to work; I was by myself.  It was 1956; I was a freshman, and students didn’t generally come in to study on the weekend.  This tall, young man needed help finding materials for a research peper.  I think that using the library was not very much a part of his high school education, so, I helped him.  That was my job.  I remember taking him into the stacks to find what he needed.

 

He told me later (and, yet, I have no real proof) that he went from the library to the Student Union and told his two buddies that he’d just met the woman he was going to marry.  Whether this is true or not, at the time he told me about that, I chose to believe him.  Our relationship from that point was somewhat interesting.  I am not a person who takes kindly to being TOLD to do something; so when Larry approached the table in the cafeteria where I was having dinner with my roomy and said, “You’re in the play this weekend, right?”  The music class I was taking required that we participate in the chorus of the operetta, “Of Thee I Sing.”  And, yes, I was in the Friday night performance.  “I’ll meet you after the performance, and we’ll go to the Student Union.”  Not, will you go with me?  Do you want to go with me?  No!  Just, I’ll pick you up.  He had simply made the statement and walked away.

I knew that another freshman was going to ask me out after the performance.  I just knew it!  I decided I would simply go with him.  But, when Friday came and the performance was over, I went with Larry.  After that first date, we dated, studied together, drove the countryside; he had his own car.  I was taking an ice skating class, fell, hit my elbow, and needed to see a doctor.  Who did I call?  Larry.  He had a car.

As spring approached, it became clear to me that I was relying on him more and more.  We talked about marriage.  I think I was astounded – that someone would want to marry me.  It had never crossed my mind that someone would, and what did I really know about marriage?  Very little, actually.  My parents.  Two married sisters.  I didn’t think I wanted to use those marriages as a model for mine.  By the time spring quarter ended, we had decided that the two of us could live as cheaply as each alone.  So, marriage was in our plans.

I stayed at the college for the summer quarter and work in the library.  Larry went home to work at the Deline Box Company, working on the assembly line – a tough job.  I was not a very regular letter writer.  He would write on a regular basis; I did not.  His sister said that he would walk down the lane to the mailbox every day to see if there was a letter from me.  After summer quarter, I stayed at the college to be a counselor during their summer band camp.  I was checking in the female high school students who would be attending, when a tall, man stood in front of me.  It was Larry; he had come to what was going on and why I never answered his letters.  My supervisor allowed me to leave the student check-in desk for the afternoon.  We went for a drive.  During the afternoon, while we talked again about our future; he made a statement – statements that he became famous for during his life.  This time, he said, “So, are you going to marry me or what?”

He didn’t ask.  He told.  It has occurred to me that, when I’ve heard other women talk about being asked to marry their husband, I was never asked, “Will you marry me?”.  I was told.  Point blank.  “So, are you going to marry me?”  That is not asking.  Of course, I told him that my plan was to marry him.

Larry was ready to buy a diamond ring for me.  But, I’m not enamored of diamonds – I like color.  So, no engagement ring was purchased.  He said he felt that he needed to get something for me.  Rather than a ring, we went to the town’s fanciest clothing store and bought a “fur” coat – which I still have, today.  It is not an animal fur coat.  Rather, it was made at a time when “fake fur” was all the rage.  I still have one of the finest examples of these coats ever made.  When my children were born, I photographed them sitting on that coat that I had spread atop our bed.  We did select beautiful gold bands from a local jeweler.  Sometimes, today, I wear both bands for an evening.

At that time of history, men who were not twenty-one years old had to have parental permission to marry.  Women did not – go figure!  I told Larry that his mother would never sign for him to marry.  Especially, me – a Northern Baptist, by religious faith.  His family was Lutheran, Wisconson Synod Lutheran – very conservative.  She finally gave in and signed the necessary papers.  You figure out why!

Time was short.  We set our date for October 3, my parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary; less that two months away.  We registered for fall quarter and started classes.  My parents painted the entire inside of their house.  Guests were invited.  Our cake was made by my cousin.  My dress was definitely not a traditional (for today) dress, but it worked.  And, Reverend Vollmers performed the ceremony.  A college friend took our photographs – black and white.  Our short honeymoon was at Mesa Verde, where a restaurant server recognized us as newly weds because of our shiny rings.

I’ve always thought that many members in our invited audience were thinking – three weeks.  I’ll give them three weeks.  Little could we have known that we almost celebrated our sixtieth anniversary; we made it about three months short of that anniversary.  There were many times when I wanted to be able to say to those present, “We fooled you.”.

 

Larry had been a uranium worker in his twenties; in his later life, it caused him to have chronic lymphocytic leukemia, prostrate cancer, COPD, and pulmonary fibrosis.  Twenty years of treatment impaired his immune system, and sepsis took his life.  We were planning for our sixtieth anniversary party; instead, it turned into a celebration of his life.  I’ve estimate that about one hundred twenty guests attended Larry’s Celebration of Life.  They brought pot-luck meals and talked about Larry, sharing stories of their experiences with him.  Daughters #1 and #3 and son-in-law created a wall of memories to help the attendees remember the different phases of their dad.  The attendees heard Larry’s granddaughters entertain with harp and piano.  And singing was in place.  It was a great send off for a great man.  As his daughters wrote a few of weeks ago, their dad was a renaissance man!

Larry opted for cremation; his ashes float above Denver in the winds from Lookout Mountain and are, as well, in place at Ghost Ranch, New Mexico, where his name plate is on el banco at the camposanto.

October 3, 1957.  The most wonderful day of my life; superseded only by the births of my three children.  October 3.  One of the saddest days of remembering, every year.

Be safe and Be Well

The Cranky Crone

Thoughtful comments are appreciated.