Whenever my brothers and sisters are together, someone always tells one of the stories about mother and daddy. Mother was only 15 when they married, and Daddy was just 19. Daddy loved to tell about his mother’s reaction when he told her that he planned to marry mother. My grandmother, the original Southern Steel Magnolia, cried out, “But, she is only fifteen!” Daddy, with a twinkle in his eye, would always laugh as he repeated his response, “Ah, no, mama, she is fifteen-and-a-half.” Daddy was the only one of her five sons who ever stood up to “Mama Shaw,” so they went ahead and got married –– and it was a full 10 months later before I came along. Daddy’s death prevented them from celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. His death removed only his physical, exuberant presence from our lives; his influence and all the memories are still very much alive, even in the extended family. Our reunions invariable include lots of remarks that begin, “Remember when Daddy . . .”
As a teenager, I loved to read Daddy’s mushy love letters to Mother from when he was a Marine serving in the South Pacific. As we approach Valentine’s Day, those letters and the example of a strong, faithful lifelong marriage are, to me, the essence of love. And over the years since Daddy’s death, our shy mother has come to figure prominently in her own sphere of influence with us all.
My favorite story of their young love was about my mother’s trip from Georgia to San Diego to see my father off to action in the South Pacific. That pivotal event in their lives is hard to comprehend today. Such a trip was a major undertaking in those days and speaks volumes about their relationship and the poignancy of such wartime separations.
Pin-up girls were the rage among the guys in the barracks. That close-knit unit of men shared their photos and talked about the girls they would be leaving behind. They were all impossibly young, mostly naïve, inexperienced and homesick. They were just kids — too young to be facing such a long separation. Daddy was heading overseas when he had never before even left his small hometown; he was about to endure combat duty, including the deaths and maiming of close buddies, when up to that point his life had been uneventful, peaceful and centered around the ball diamond, home and family. They were just small town boys going a long way from home and leaving behind everything they loved and valued.