Today my husband turned 85 years old. He grew up in Wisconsin and joined the Marine Corps when he graduated from high school in 1959. He was 20 and I was 13 the first time I met him. He showed up in his Dress Blues to take his then-fiancé to her high school graduation. I was babysitting her two younger brothers. A few months later, he got a Dear-John letter when he was overseas.
When he was discharged from the Marines, he asked the mother of his former fiancé if she knew any “good Catholic girls.” She didn’t, but she gave him my phone number. Our first date was August 11, 1966, and we were engaged less than a month later September 9. We waited until the following April to get married.
We have been married nearly 58 years. Neither of us had good home lives growing up and we were determined to raise our children differently. I have watched this man rock a sick child with a high fever for hours overnight. I have watched him work hard, leaving before the children were awake and getting home long after they were asleep.
While he drove old vehicles, he always made sure the ones his children drove were in good working order. Being in construction and enduring many recessions, I watched him sacrifice his “retirement fund” so his children had food on the table and good shoes on their feet.
His motivational gift has always been Service [Romans 12:7], and I have watched him use it in many ways in many churches. His “love language” was never more than in evidence than when he would call me on Friday’s nights to tell me he deposited his paycheck.
He’s older now. His short-term memory isn’t what it used to be. He struggles with some things … but his love for me and for his children and their families has not diminished. His life was not, is not, always easy, but he lives it to the best of his ability.
Happy Birthday Bob!
