When you’re a child you tune your parents’ conversations out unless the words “cake,” “candy” or “toys” should crop up. Then when you’re old enough to be curious about your family history, often it’s too late because all the people with the answers you seek are gone.
Even though I didn’t pay close attention, my mother was always regaling me with stories from her childhood and how she met my father. It seems originally my father was dating my aunt. Then at some point, whether he had a chance meeting or was introduced, he met my mother – the younger sister. Both women shared the same apartment in Salt Lake City, so it was bound to happen.
It always struck me as amusing that the North and the South came together in my parents. My mother was a farm/country girl from Lewisville, Idaho, and my father was a pilot at Hill Air Force Base near Salt Lake City.
I don’t know what sort of dates they went on or how long they dated, but eventually marriage was proposed. My mother related how her brother, acting as chaperone/father figure, drove her to Mill Valley, Calif., where my father was stationed. On Sept. 21, 1946 they were married.
Three years later I came along. Every three years like clockwork, we were moving to a new city, state and Air Force Base.
Despite the hardships of unpacking only to re-pack a whole household of goods, my mother seemed to relish seeing new places, scenery and people. I, on the other hand, hated it.
So, where is the unusual or Earth-shattering love story? It’s very simple. I lived with parents who set high standards in the relationship department. They lived by example for their child to see what a good marriage can truly be. I never heard an unkind work; they always showed each other support, gentleness, affection, respect and pride. I never heard a raised voice in all my childhood, nor any words of discord or profanity. I lived in the land of bliss.
What better legacy or love story to leave behind.
There’s a quote I love and don’t know who wrote it.
It is “The greatest gift a father can give his child is to love their mother.”
Vickie Hewett, Loomis