They were too young. Everyone said so as they wagged their heads in disapproval. The collective wisdom agreed that they were too young to know anything about love or marriage or anything else. Why ruin your lives with responsibility? Go to college, get your education, if it is real you’ll know with time. Oh, they said all this and more. It was true. They were young. They had no money and no plans, but they were in love. She was just 17 when she asked him to marry her. They both were committed to a marriage without shotguns so intimacy was postponed, but that was the time and the place where they had grown up as much as anything else. It was different then. It was their idea to get married and they would not have it forced upon because the decision would not be theirs. Besides, she was the willful child who once having made up her mind was not likely to change it.
The idea however had a major dash of ice water when she told her mother that she was in love and wanted to get married. Her mother’s shocked response was to drop of stack of dishes that she had just unloaded from the dishwasher. She screamed “No way!” to the sound of breaking glass. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Your father will never approve. You don’t even know the guy.” The emotional outburst was followed by tears and hysteria. It was not a conversation to be repeated, so the subject was not brought up again.
When he told his family that he was thinking about getting married, the reaction was just as vehement but for different reasons. Gasp! She was a Catholic and unworthy of consideration. Besides, the death of his father mandated that he take over the family business and support his mother in the manner she had been accustomed to. His life was planned as the oldest son, he was expected to take care of his family. There really wasn’t any room for discussion on that front either.
After the initial negative responses, nothing more was said, but that didn’t mean they changed their minds. Planning just went underground. Because the reaction had been so overwhelmingly against the idea, she knew that if they were to get married without parental consent, it better be done right. Now, where she knew that from is a mystery, but she was certain if they didn’t do it right, her father would hire lawyers to set it aside. In the spring of her senior year at high school she would cut class and head for the law library downtown. She’d wander in and sit for hours among the lawyers writing briefs; the clerks checking the citations and the librarians demanding silence from all. At first she didn’t have any idea how to do legal research and she was afraid to ask anyone for fear that they would realize that she had ditched class. Over time, she learned which books to go to and how to look up the marriage requirements of each and every state. It was tedious work, but soon there was a neat stack of 3 x 5 cards on which she had written all the legal requirements for marriage in each and every state. It was funny. Many states in the south allowed her to get married without parental consent when she was 14, but he was a problem – he had to be 21 to get married just about everywhere. He was only 20.
As a testament to the old saying, “Where’s there a will, there’s a way;” she finally found what she was looking for. There was one state where they could go and get married. North Carolina. They decided that was where they’d head. Now, at the time they were living in New York State, so a trip to North Carolina took some planning. It was risky. It was across state lines. They were both under age (back then the legal age was 21). None of that mattered. On her eighteenth birthday, they left armed with copies of birth certificates and less than a hundred dollars in cash. They drove like maniacs all night long ever watchful for passing patrol cars. They both had visions of an all-points bulletin being issued for their return to the custody of their respective parents and being labeled as “incorrigible”. They would be lucky to get off was stern reprimands. Both expected to spend time in juvenile detention centers if caught. When they crossed the border into North Carolina their relief was measurable. They quickly obtained the license and rounded up an ancient Justice of the Peace. Their marriage ceremony was a hasty affair witnessed by the five members of the Justice’s family and they all had to be over the age of 70. After the “I dos”, the bride and the groom turned around and headed back to New York to face family and friends. The disapproval of parents resulted in a 30 year schism on her side, and almost open warfare on his. But they were together, and they felt invincible, strong and empowered because they had each other.
The years flew by. They grew up together. Love and respect continued to grow and flourish. They put each other through college and then graduate school. There was trouble, pain and sometimes much difficulty, but still through it all their love grew. They nurtured their love into a wonderful trusting relationship where they see and admire each other’s strong points. In an instant, fifty-five years had passed and they are more in love now than the day they ran away. They have lived the words, “Come grow old with me, the best is yet to be.” Indeed, the best is yet to come.
This is a true story. I know as it is about me and my wonderful husband, Tom. This month we celebrate 55 years of marriage, and they said it wouldn’t last. It’s nice to reflect on the past and think – “Would I marry him again today?” To that question I have to reply, “Oh yes! A thousand times, yes. Without you, my love, my life would not have been whole.” Like I said, I am the willful child. My life has been of my making and this is one thing I did right.
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