If my Dad were alive, it would be the 40th anniversary of his marriage to my mom today. When they married she was twenty-three, he was thirty-five. They met each other when my mom was an upperclassmen at a Catholic liberal arts women’s college in Minnesota. He had graduated from the partner men’s college years before. The occasion of their first meeting was a talk given by my father at my mother’s college. She was in charge of the committee that had invited him to speak. At that time, he was director of pre-Peace Corps, international development organization, very much like the Peace Corps. My mother was interested in serving overseas after graduating. When they met, a friendship started….and probably a few sparks, but my father had made a commitment not to get married and instead dedicate his life to his cause (he had also trained to be a priest, but decided not to take vows). He made it charmingly clear to my mom that he had decided not to get married.

After finishing college, my mother spent three years teaching in Africa through a Catholic service organization. She and my father exchanged letters during this time. Near the end of her three years, my mother let it be known that she had received three marriage proposals. She was interested in knowing his intentions. When she returned to the states, my father picked her up in New York and drove with her back to Minnesota. Charmingly again, my uncle was with them. A week or so later, on a snowy day, my father picked my mom up at my grandparents house. They took a walk in a snowy canyon. She was wearing a red turtleneck sweater. He proposed. They sat on a log. This was the story we heard over and over again as children.

My grandmother had about a month to prepare for the wedding. They were married in the local Catholic church and had their reception in the firehouse. My grandmother made the wedding and bridesmaid dresses. My mom’s dress was very nice, made in a Jackie Onnaisis style. I should know, because I wore it at my own wedding. I used to also wear the red turtleneck (engagement) a lot when I was a teenager.

Despite his awkward start, my father was a loving and devoted husband. They had a fulfilling, rich and happy life together. They were intellectual and spiritual soulmates. They felt a calling from God to service and they dedicated their lives to it. I have never felt that kind of a calling, so it is very much of a fascination to me.

It’s been almost ten years since my father died. I called my mom this morning to wish her a happy anniversary.