My parents knew each other two weeks when they decided to get married. When my dad proposed, my mom thought about it briefly and said, “Okay, but let’s not tell anyone in case we change our minds.” They didn’t change their minds, and six weeks after they met, they were married.
When I was home in Portland last month, I drove to the coast for the day with my parents. Just like I used to do when I was six years old, from the backseat of the car I asked, “tell me a story about when you were first married.” They exchanged glances and started trying to dredge up any details they might not have told me before. My mom started remembering the second thoughts she had during their honeymoon. She said that as they were driving across the country together, from San Francisco to Virginia (for a big Subud gathering at Skymont), she started to freak out. She realized that she knew almost nothing about the man she had just married, and began to ponder outloud the fact that, for all she knew, he could be an axe murderer.
Well, my dad, being the person he is, latched on to her worries and did his best to teasingly exacerbate them. He would make faces, trying to imitate the expressions of the criminally unhinged, and do his very best to sneak up and give her a fright at the various campsites and motels they stopped at along the way. It is an amazing thing that they are still married. But, still married they are, and today makes 36 years of partnership for them. I feel immensely blessed to have had them both as parents. Happy Anniversary, guys.