For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved hearing about how my parents met and the various details related to their war-time courtship. In a battered box in their closet, Mom once kept a stack of letters Daddy had written to her during his service in Europe in World War II.
Whenever I got the chance, I’d snatch one or two letters from that box and steal away to my own room to read them. (They were only slightly romantic, just accounts of news and whatever drama his friends were experiencing.) Of course, every letter had to first pass through the censor’s oversight before it could be posted!
Sadly for their offspring, those letters are gone now. In the days after my dad knew death would likely come within the year, he and Mom walked out to the beach near their home, sat down and re-read the letters one final time before dropping them into a campfire. I know they chose what to do with the letters; but I’ll always be disappointed that part of their legacy went up in smoke.
Near Mom’s 80th birthday, I asked her to write down the story of meeting Dad. (She still had her sight then.) I turned her recollections into a memory book prior to the surprise birthday celebration we threw for her with many family members gathered in her honor. (See more about that celebration here.) The story of their first meeting is funny and I share it below (the first of two parts with part two posting tomorrow). This is the story … in her own words.