Fifty years

It was a cold Sunday afternoon in February 1971. The dorms where I lived as a sophomore at Northern Michigan University in Marquette, Michigan, didn't serve dinner on Sundays.  That was not a problem. There was the Brat House, just off campus, or Burger Chef or Togo's, and they even delivered.  I wasn't concerned.  

My roommate walked into our room just about the time I was starting to mull over my meal plan, returning from wherever he had been spending his Sunday afternoon, and announced to me. "How would you like to get a free meal tonight?"  

He went on to explain that he had just heard that N.M.U.'s International Club was in the midst of a membership drive and was providing a buffet dinner for anyone interested in learning more about the club.  Shoot, for a free meal, I'd have gone to just about any club's gathering.  I grabbed a fairly clean shirt out of my closet and was ready to go.  

When we arrived, we hung our winter coats over a couple of chairs, taking possession of that bit of table and went off to explore what weird foods we were about to sample.  

When we got back to our table, plates piled high, we discovered that a couple of girls had taken the places directly across from us.  Wow, we thought, this was interesting.  

While I got along just fine with the girl directly across from me, I soon realized that the girl I was attracted to was sitting across from my friend Jim. Her name was Jeanne.  And it was clear that he preferred Renee', who sat in front of me.  (Fortunately, the girls seemed to share our views)

At the end of the meal, we paired up accordingly and went our separate ways.  

In those days, rules about having a guest of the opposite sex in one's dorm room (go figure) were very strict. However, Jeanne and I could  sit in the lobby of her residence hall and talk all we wanted. So we did.  For several hours as it turned out. Finally, at midnight, the lobby closed and I had to head home. My life was forever changed.  

As I came into my room, my phone was ringing. Oh, no, I thought. This isn't good.  

I answered it with some trepidation and rightfully so. It was my mom as I feared on the line and she asked, "WHERE have you been? Do you realize it's after midnight and you have classes in the morning? This was delivered at a volume just short of a shout.  

"I met a girl," I said.  That statement, while appearing very simple, was not. I had actually not just met A girl, I had met THE girl, and I could not have been more excited than if I had won a million dollars. The word 'girl' no longer meant what it had before that night, the word now meant Jeanne, and there could be no finer name in all the world.

(And suddenly that name, will never be the same, to me. Say it loud and there's music playing, say it soft and it's almost like praying.)  -from West Side Story

"WHAT KIND of girl keeps you out until midnight on a Sunday night, I'd like to know?" Mom shouted it this time.  

Oh boy, I realized that the gulf that separated my mother and me at that moment was impossibly wide. I realized that she had probably been redialing my number all evening and had stayed up late to reach me.  I didn't try to explain. I told her I would certainly go to my classes in the morning, and not fall behind in my work. When she hung up, I got ready for bed and thought, "Whew, what a Valentine's Day this has been."  

Fifty years later to the day, again on a Sunday evening, Waitakere Gardens in Henderson, New Zealand, is offering a Valentine's Day dinner, and Jeanne and I are going. (Gee, that's certainly international. Interesting, huh?)  Instead of deep winter like our very first Valentine's Day together in the north, we are enjoying a balmy evening during the height of summer in the south seas. Tonight, instead of a buffet of mostly Thai food, we are having a starter of shrimp and smoked salmon, a main of roast lamb and mash, dessert, and a bottle of champagne. 

I took just a few pictures during dinner, but maybe you'd like to see some of them.  

We had our own table. 

    

Obviously, since here we are fifty years later, it all turned out alright, despite the misgivings of my mother that first night. My parents loved her as soon as they met her. She wowed my dad with her knowledge of literature. She had graduated at the top of her class in high school, was working on a double major of English and Spanish at N.M.U. and would go on to  earn a 4.0 at the University as well.  The parents became suitably impressed. (Probably wished that more of her study habits would rub off on me.)    

We've had an interesting life. We made decisions back then that lead us to what some might think of as a non-traditional life, but we were quite successful in it and are now enjoying 'the fruits of our labors.'  

And, since I'm doing this blog, I'll be able to let you all know how we're doing on our 60th, and and 70th Valentine's Days, and well, after that, who knows....    

Thanks for sharing our continuing adventure.    -djf