Did your parents tell you stories about their early years of romance?
If they did, how did you react? Cringe or pay careful attention?
I think my Mother played the role of storyteller about right. She didn’t add flourishes to facts. She didn’t offer details. Instead, she dropped in nuggets like this one:
“Your daddy proposed to me
while we were sitting on a glider on the front porch.”
The next time we visited the farm where Mother grew up, I took a look at the glider. I wish I had a picture of it, but since I don’t, I made one from the details I remember.
Was it just chance that 22 years later, after we had just seen the movie Camelot, Stuart and I came back to the porch of the farm where I grew up, the “Home Place” setting for the memoir Blush: A Mennonite Girl Meets a Glittering World
There was no glider on that porch.
Only benches and individual rocking chairs.
Richard Harris’s singing of “How to Handle a Woman” still filled our hearts:
As I recall the moment, Stuart suggested that we go sit on the double seated swing between the barn and the garage.
There he asked me to marry him.
I said yes.
I also blurted out, “I want you to be the father of my children.”
“I can’t imagine living without you.”
Stuart’s name means steward, caretaker, responsible one. He has lived up to his name so well as husband, father, and friend.
We didn’t glide into marriage, we chose a swing to carry us there.
Interestingly, gliders and swings move smoothly forward and backward as though to warn us:
love will bring you great joy but not without pain. Love anyway.
Do you know the story of your parents’ betrothal? Want to share your own? How about any story involving a glider or a swing?
P.S. Had to add this photo at the end. Turns out that my son and his wife just added some porch furniture. What do you think they chose, without having read this post? A reconditioned vintage 1940’s glider and chairs!