It was 50 years ago today...

That two teenagers stood at the altar and taught the world to play.

On a Saturday afternoon in the middle of September in 1972, a couple of lovebirds said “I do” on an altar in front of their loving, if skeptical, friends and family. 

My parents had only met a month earlier, by happenstance, at Silver Dollar City in nearby Branson. My mom had just graduated from high school. My dad was trying to stay out of mischief.

Standing in that church, her in a wedding dress borrowed from a friend and him, unknowingly, just a few weeks away from a military-enforced buzz cut, they promised to love each other until death did them part. 

That day didn’t come until 46 years later. That’s 16,924 days as one of the happiest couples on earth. 

There was no argument among their friends about whose love they envied, whose connection had that certain spark, whose partnership after which they modeled their own. 

I lived with these lovebirds for 18 years and can tell you that their marriage bore the same marks that most marriages do, but it was their commitment toward making the partnership better is what drew people to them.

Both of them loved to play — music, dancing, gardening, any kind of games — and were into self-help and self-betterment books and audiotapes long before they became mainstream. Tony Robbins, Marianne Williamson and Wayne Dyer were household names growing up, and those put those relationship wellness practices to work. Every day.

I knew how lucky I was. 

I still know how lucky I am, 50 years later, thinking back on what this good fortune meant for me as a young person and now a parent and partner myself. Watching them croon a Carole King song at each other showed me a different form of intimacy. Listening to them sort their way through an argument taught me conflict resolution. Being part of their dream to raise a family and not lose their love meant they took us epic road trips and spent weekends camping and hiking and doing the things they would have been doing anyway. 

It was a lot of fun having parents who were in love. 

For the past month, I’ve been thinking about this pivotal month in my parents’ lives. A month after the wedding, my dad got drafted and headed to basic training. They started a four-year stint with him in the Air Force and her at own, living outside Missouri for the first time.

Things happened so fast, and then they waited more than a decade to have kids.

That’s the story of how I came to be, and I heard it countless times, and it always started with them meeting at Silver Dollar City and getting married a month later.

Although I wouldn’t be here without this origin story, it’s ultimately their story to tell. After my dad’s death in 2019, it’s my mom’s story, and that’s a pretty big story to carry all by yourself. 

My mom is writing her life story on one of those Storyworth books, and every once in a while, I’ll get a preview chapter. I hope she tells the story about their first fight over Hamburger Helper and what her dad said when this floppy haired 19-year-old asked if he could marry his daughter.

What a gift she’s giving us to tell those stories from her perspective.

I became a writer so I could share my own story and leave a paper trail leading back to those things I love and cherish most. 

This morning, Frank and I picked up our marriage license. 

We’re planning a wedding next year, but we’re taking care of the paperwork side of it now. It’s the first step toward our own perfectly imperfect happily ever after. 

Meeting Frank at this stage in our lives means that we’ve already had practice marriages. We’ve lost ourselves in relationships that didn’t ultimately serve us; we’ve had step parent-like roles in other kids’ lives; we learned how to be happy without another person by our side.

And now we get to do this part of our lives together. For however many years we get.

Because the truth is that no one knows how many days we get together.

Learning how not to compare my parents’ home run-on-the-first try to my own batting average — I had two kids and a divorce before the age my parents had their first kid — has been an important part of my own healing journey.

It feels good to be able to celebrate them on a day like today. To applaud all they overcame and shared with the world. To name the pain of grief that comes with remembering such a meaningful relationship.

This was their marriage, but we’re all better for it.

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