So it happened in Chicago in the Austin neighborhood. Late-40’s, early-50’s, mid-50’s, late-50’s…. beats me. But at some point, it happened. My Mom lived on Lorel Avenue. My Dad lived somewhere nearby, no idea what street even though I have been told a million times. It was maybe across the alley.
At some point, they met.
And as it turns out, that’s all I know about my parents courtship. It occurred to me recently (yesterday) that while I have heard endless stories of their youth, I have no idea when they started dating, when they fell in looooovvveee, when they got engaged, how he proposed, nothing. I know none of it.
All I know is that they got married 49 years ago today, October 13, 1962.
I asked my mother the questions above. She decided that NOW is the time to be mysterious:
We met right after he moved in, but he was too old for me at the time. I thought he was cute. I am sure he would say getting married was my idea. He asked my dad and then bought me a ring for Christmas. Nothing blog worthy here…..well maybe we had a few secrets. I’ll leave it in a letter to be read after I die. Thanks Mom
Thanks Mom. Not even LOVE. Thanks. Like, thanks for asking!
Nice try — they ain’t getting off that easy.
The 50th anniversary is the Golden Anniversary. The 49th has no traditional specification, though a random website told me that in modern times, the theme for 49 glorious years is luxury. So I am giving my parents the luxury of starring in my blog.
And to this day, my mother will in fact tell a stranger that she HAD to get married. She always waits for the look or the gasp or the “well good for you for admitting it” before she spouts out, “Yeah, we HAD to get married if we wanted to have sex.”
Oh, those crazy kids.