It Pays To Know Second Language
Dear Ann Landers: After reading several letters in your column about World War II brides, I decided to tell you my story, which is more than 50 years old but still gives me a thrill.
In 1945, after the war, I was stationed in Steyr, Austria, in command of a constabulary troop. Steyr at that time had no facilities for entertainment, and I wanted to provide my men with some social activity. I hired a hall and musicians and advertised in the local paper for “ladies who like to dance and who might be interested in meeting some nice U.S. servicemen.” The response was surprisingly good.
As the only German-speaking member of my troop, I made a point of interviewing the ladies who considered themselves good dancers. One of the first to apply was a beautiful 19-year-old who made quite an impression on me. Even though she was half my age, I escorted her home, met her parents and decided that very night she was The One. I asked her to marry me after two more dates and was very surprised when she said yes.
Because of my security clearance, the Army refused my request to marry. So I left the service, returned to Chicago and brought my bride to the United States. My mother did not greet her new daughter-in-law with open arms. Her first comment was, “That girl married you so she could get to the United States. In a couple of months, she’ll leave you.” My mother was wrong.
A year and a day after our wedding, our first son was born. Shortly after, we moved to Berlin, and it was there that my wonderful wife gave birth to a beautiful set of twin girls. She converted to Judaism in 1956, and we remarried in a religious ceremony.
Last month, with children and grandchildren present, we celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary. She has been the most devoted wife a 92-year-old man could hope for. - Max in Seaside, Calif.
Dear Max: Thanks for a beautiful love story. So much for the old saying, “Mother knows best.” You certainly can attest to the fact that it pays to know a second language. Keep reading for another one:
Dear Ann Landers: Here’s one more for your how-we-met collection. For me, it was love at first sight.
On a late January evening in 1941, I arrived home to find a strange guy sitting, fully dressed, in my bathtub. His company had sent him on the wrong day to tile our bathroom, and my roommate had let him in. I had a bridge party scheduled for that night, and he knew I would be angry at the clutter in the bathroom, but he stuck around anyway. He had made quite a mess, and I was furious.
Ten days later, he called me. He apologized profusely for his behavior and asked me for a date. I reluctantly accepted his apology and agreed to have dinner with him the following evening. He came to pick me up in a car that was beautifully polished. He opened the door, looking terrific, smelling of wonderful cologne and carrying roses and a box of chocolates under his arm. After six months of a romantic courtship, he paid a preacher $15 to marry us in a funeral parlor chapel.
Our romantic date lasted 50 years, including four years of separation during the war. We had one son and four grandchildren. He is gone now, but our life was never dull. He kept me entertained for a lifetime. - Dorothy in Farmington, Mo.
xxxx