Love Story: After 67 years, they’re still living on love

Jeanie Fuller’s life forever changed when her high school youth group merged with the college group at the Presbyterian church she attended in South Gate, California. She was 16 and the merger meant she got to meet a lot more young men.

“Oh boy! Wasn’t that fun for me,” she said, laughing.

Bob Fuller was one of those young men.

“He’d just gotten out of the Navy,” Jeanie said. “Pretty soon he was picking me up and taking me home every Sunday.”

Getting into the Navy hadn’t been intentional on Bob’s part. He was a high school senior when his physics teacher told the class that anyone who could pass the Navy’s “Eddy Test” would automatically receive an A. So, thinking he’d earn an easy A, Bob took the test.

“That was a Thursday,” he recalled. “I must’ve passed because the next thing I knew this guy says, ‘Welcome to the Navy.’ ”

Bob sputtered that he couldn’t join the Navy – he was only 17 and finishing high school. But since his birthday was the following week, he was told to report to the federal building the next day to be sworn in.

“By Sunday I was on a train to Great Lakes, Illinois, for basic training,” he said, shaking his head. “That was February 1945. I never did go back to school.”

Instead, his parents attended commencement and received his diploma for him.

Bob was aboard ship and on his way to Okinawa on Aug. 15 when word came of the Japanese surrender. A major typhoon wreaked havoc on the island, so they were diverted to Guam, where he spent the rest of his tour of duty.

“I was in charge of the largest stockpile of beer anywhere,” he said, admitting he helped himself to a few.

“I went into the Navy at 142 pounds and I came out at 205. I wasn’t done growing yet.”

At the time he met Jeanie, he was attending Compton College and the proud owner of a 1936 Ford. He gave rides to and from church to lots of kids, but somehow, he said, “I always managed to pick Jeanie up first and drop her off last.”

On one of those rides he said, “If I could get tickets to the Rams/Redskins game, would you go with me?”

When she hesitated, he added, “I happen to have two tickets in my pocket.”

She agreed.

“All I remember is the Rams won!” Bob said.

Obviously, Bob believes in being prepared.

“He asked me to marry him on Dec. 10,” Jeanie said. “Then he went to the trunk and got out an engagement ring!”

On April 30, 1949, they were married in her sister’s home. Jeanie was 17, Bob 21.

They honeymooned in Tempe, Arizona, where Bob registered for school at Arizona State University. In addition to cheap tuition, it offered him a chance to fulfill a dream.

“I always wanted to play football,” he said.

And play he did, even competing in a bowl game – the Salad Bowl on Jan. 2, 1950.

Meanwhile, the living conditions weren’t quite what his bride had hoped. Married student housing was a 15-foot trailer that had belonged to the Army.

“It was rusty. The paint was peeling. I said, ‘Is this what I’m going to live in?’ ” Jeanie recalled.

In the year they lived in the trailer, they welcomed their first child, Steve.

“We lived on $120 a month for the three of us,” Jeanie said. “We never went anywhere and we watched our pennies.”

That Christmas she knitted a stocking for her niece. “I splurged on the yarn.”

Christmas stockings became a tradition. Jeanie is working on her 87th stocking – each one personalized for the recipient.

Another splurge was a $75 crib for their baby. That also proved to be a good investment.

“We kept that crib until 2007,” she said. “I hated to let it go. All our kids and grandkids used it.”

At the end of the school year, they moved back to South Gate, where Bob took a job as a cement layer.

“I quickly determined I was going to get a desk job,” he said.

So back to school he went. He attended University of Southern California and earned an accounting degree. Their family grew with the births of son Roy and daughters Robbie and Sally.

In 1970, they moved to the small town of Willits, California, when Bob took a job as company controller for a local business – a position he held for 37 years.

They enjoyed small-town living.

“It was wonderful,” said Jeanie. “You get to know everyone.”

They also played a lot of golf.

“He was good, really good,” Jeanie said. “But I thought I was pretty good, too!”

Bob even had a portion of the course named for him.

He shrugged. “After 37 years, you get a few hole-in-ones.”

When he retired they bought a fifth-wheel trailer and caravaned to Nova Scotia with three other couples.

In 2007, they moved to Spokane to be near their son Steve.

“He told us it never snows here!” Jeanie said.

After 67 years of marriage their love is stronger than ever, but not perfect. For example, Jeanie once complained that he never used any terms of endearment for her.

“I’d like you to call me ‘honey’ like the other couples we know,” she told him.

His reply? “I am what I am, and I can’t be anyone else.”

That’s not to say Bob’s unromantic. Every night before they turn out the lights he sings her two songs.

He grinned. “I sing, ‘Turn out the lights. the party’s over.’ ”

Turning to Jeanie, he crooned a bit of the second song, “Goodnight, my love, the old moon’s descending …”

Jeanie smiled.

“When we got married my father said, ‘What are you going to live on?’ I answered, ‘We’re going to live on love and love alone.’ ”

She chuckled. “It’s worked out pretty well.”