Wish You Were Here

This would have been my parents' 67th wedding anniversary. I wanted to put up a photo in honor of the day, so I went searching through my albums. I knew I wouldn't find a wedding photo because there weren't any. My mom and dad were married in 1942, two months after the bombing of Pearl Harbor and just before my father enlisted in the Navy. It was a sudden decision, with the ceremony performed at the county courthouse – no fancy trappings or guests. And no commemorative photos.

But just finding a photograph of the two of them together was a challenge. Neither of them really liked having their picture taken, so they rarely sat for professional photographers. This shot is one of the earliest I found – taken in 1939 when they were high school sweethearts. They "went together" for a number of years before he popped the question. According to my mom's version of the romantic tale, he told her if she'd just get a job they could get married!

Well, she never got that job – her only ambition was to be a housewife and mother. And it took the uncertainty of a World War to push my father into action. They were happily married for fifteen years – until he died of heart failure a few months before his 37th birthday. My mother never remarried.

Yes, he was very tall – unfortunately, his height is something I didn't inherit. And although in this photo my teenaged mother looks like she's dressed herself from Salvation Army bins, she ordinarily had a much sharper fashion sense!

I miss them both.