I said to myself, 'Someday I'm
going to marry that gal'
By Gordon Garnos
EXPLANATION:
It probably all started when I was asked to join the 100-voice
Cestrian Welsh Male Voice Choir. It was in Chester, England, and I
was stationed with the U. S. Air Force nearby. Some may remember
that choir as it toured eastern South Dakota, presenting some 12
concerts, almost 25 years to the day I left England. But that is
another story. Different members invited me into their homes, some
for a cup of tea and others for a meal, something a serviceman would
never turn down.
IT WAS ONE OF
THOSE invitations that brought me to the home of Mr. and Mrs.
William McFarlane and their two children, Bill and Elizabeth (Beth).
While they had lived in England for many years, the family were
Scottish 100 percent, coming from near Glasgow at the start of World
War II.
Beth was there with
her boy friend. I just couldn't take my eyes off of her. Somewhere
during that second cup, I think, I said to myself, "Some day I'm
going to marry that gal."
I had just sold my
car, a little Morris Minor. How was I going to date her, on my
bicycle built for two? You guessed it. Yep! It had to be that
bicycle, purchased WBB (way before Beth).
A bunch of us were
going to Liverpool to a movie (WBB). As we went by a rather decrepit
looking second-hand store, there it was, a very used bicycle built
for two--with a booster mini-motor over the rear wheel--just to help
us over the hills.
There were many rides
on that bicycle built for two, a few movies, and many nights around
the fireplace with her folks. Rumor was the air base was going to be
closed down and I would be transferred, probably back to the states
for discharge. I had to make my move.
The PX sold
engagement rings. The next thing I knew I led Beth to her dadıs
apple trees. It was April 1957. The trees were in full blossom. She
said, "Yes," and that was the start of the promise I made to myself,
"Some day I'm going to marry that gal."
Come June, I was
transferred to southern Germany. The wedding date was set. It would
be September 7th. In my travels around Wales I discovered the
neatest little, ivy-covered hotel on Anglesey Isle, just off the
coast of north Wales. We agreed. That would be our honeymoon and its
location was our secret. The hotel was in the town of
Llanfairpwllgwyngyll, which is the short version for the community's
real, historic name. That has 58 letters in it. It's understandable
why it is the town with the largest name in the world.
The wedding was the
traditional kind. She said "I do." I said, "I do." And I think there
was a "We will" in there somewhere. The reception was great. In
America it is rice that dirties up everything. In England itıs
confetti. Then it was off to our secret honeymoon location.
Arriving late that
night at that neat little, ivy-covered hotel, every step toward our
room was covered with that blasted confetti. We had hardly closed
the door when we heard the vacuum cleaner coming down the hallway. A
short time later there was a knock on our door. A very elderly hotel
clerk asked, "Mr. Garnos. You have a phone call from Chester,
England. Shall I tell them you haven't arrived yet?" What else was
there to say.
The next morning we
came down for breakfast and discovered we were the youngest people
in the dining room by at least 40 or 50 years. That little
ivy-covered hotel, we discovered, was for retired elderly people on
vacation. That was just one of at least a million laughs we have
been able to share in our 50 years. Although, at the time, the new
bride didnıt see a lot of humor in it.
In those 50 years
there were five times I couldn't have been more proud and happy. The
first was that "Yes" under the apple blossoms and the other four
were the births of our children even though the birth, illness and
eventual passing of our second son, Christopher, was, I believe, the
most tragic period of our married lives.
But neither Beth nor
I have dwelled on that sadness, nor any other. Sure, we have had our
ups and downs like any married couple. The smiles and shared
laughter have drowned out the tears. Both of us, I believe, feel
living the Golden Rule and having faith in God got us through the
tough times. While the arguments were never mountainous, they have
become less and less important as the years go by.
Looking back, if I
have any regrets they are I haven't said, "I love you" nearly
enough. Thinking about that, if I added up all the newspapers in
which my column appears and then multiply that with their thousands
of their subscribers, there will be a lot of "I love yous" being
printed that maybe, hopefully, will make up for some of those days I
failed to do so.
I can't believe it
was 50 years ago this Friday that I did marry that gal. And after
writing this column on the eve of our Golden Anniversary, there is
one promise I am going to make. There will be at least one "I love
you" every day for the next 50....
Gordon Garnos was long-time editor of the Watertown Public Opinion and
recently retired after 39 years with that newspaper. Garnos, a
lifelong resident of South Dakota except for his military service in the
U.S. Air Force, was born and raised in Presho.
