Every love story is beautiful

Seriously? These are too adorable!

 

I love all the love stories I've been told by my family, by blood and by marriage.

My parents met 33+ years ago in late summer. My mom worked at a bank in a small town. Her manager, a graduate of the local high school, hooked my mother up on a blind date with a former teacher. Mom was suitably nervous, as she had been burned before (once widowed, and once divorced because of domestic violence) and her manager didn't help; any guy that came into the bank that evening, her manager teased her about, leading her on; it included a line-up of extremely sketchy guys. Finally, he showed up, still wearing his suit from work, as he was an assistant principal at the time. They went out to dinner, and they liked each other so much that they decided they needed to go out for drinks and dancing. One thing led to another, and about three weeks later, my mom moved in with my dad. By December, she was pregnant and they were visiting my grandparents in Florida. In January 1982, they got married. They celebrated their 33rd anniversary not too long ago. They're best friends, and they've been great role models.

My in-laws met 36? years ago (my best guess off the top of my head). My mother-in-law, a wallflower, happened to bump into another wallflower, my father-in-law, at a college party. Both of them, overwhelmed by the noise, decided they would be better off going for a walk. By the end of the night, my MIL was showing my FIL engagement rings in shop windows. She's not a subtle person. My FIL got the message. They are also the best of friends.

My husband's maternal grandparents met fifty plus years ago. Grandpa and his brother were driving down the street in their small town when they spotted two cute girls. They pulled over, and lo and behold, the Hopper sisters agreed to catch a ride in the back of the car, despite their reservations, as the boys were known for being wild. Grandpa asked Shorty out on a date as a result of that car ride; both were mutually convinced it was love at first sight. I have to say, since Grandpa passed away last year, the conversation I had with him about him meeting Grandma is one of the fondest memories I possess. I always found it touching that both of them were so in love from the start, and believe me, it showed right on through to the end. That, to me, is what love is.

My husband's maternal grandparents met sixty plus years ago at a roller rink. Grandpa was in Philly with the Navy during the Korean War. He and Grandma skated together, got married shortly thereafter, and she moved from Pennsylvania west to Oregon to be with him, leaving her family behind. They've been married for 62 years.

My paternal grandparents met over the back fence. My tante had dated my oom briefly in their early teens; they mutually decided that their older siblings would be a much better match. Tante Joop and Oom Aat were very right. My grandparents' relationship survived the travails of World War II, in which my grandfather was "volunteered" by the Germans to serve welding locomotives in a labor camp near Berlin (where he bought food and other things with his body--true story) and then had to escape with the help of a Swedish consul back to the Netherlands. My oma, meanwhile, moved back to Eindhoven in the south from Haarlem in the north, and there my grandfather met up with her; my great-grandfather welcomed my grandfather into his home. Grandpa shared a room with my oom Jan; at one point, the Nazis came looking for him and shot up the floor, missing my grandfather by inches. He was very active with the local Resistance movement, as he was a nothing and nobody after his escape from the labor camp. When I look back at all my grandparents survived in the early years of their relationship, I'm amazed. They survived one of the worst famines in Western Europe, and in the developed world (Dutch famine of 1944 - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia). They were separated many times but still stayed together. Ultimately, at the end of the war, they were married, and a couple of years later, my father was born. They were married for 49 years before my oma passed due to Alzheimers.