Love Stories: Boits’ devotion survives personal hardships

A night of dancing at the Crystal Ballroom in Fargo, North Dakota, turned into a lifelong romance for Betty and Vince Boit. Today the Boits celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary.

Not bad for a relationship that almost didn’t get off the ground.

When they met, Vince had recently completed a three-year stint with the United States Naval Construction Battalions, also known as Seabees.

“I spent two years in the Philippines and six months in Alaska,” he recalled. “Adak, Alaska, isn’t the end of the world, but I could see it from there.”

He went to the ballroom and quickly spotted Betty.

“I saw this beautiful girl and asked her to dance.”

Betty was working as a stenographer at a bank, and she and her three roommates often enjoyed the weekly dances.

She and Vince danced together several times and as the evening drew to a close, he offered to take her home in his black and yellow 1956 Impala.

“Later I found out she didn’t really like me because she thought I was old,” said Vince, who was 21 at the time.

In their North Side living room, Betty smiled.

“I thought he was 28 at least!”

But that didn’t stop her from giving him her number.

And though Vince insisted he was a confirmed bachelor who’d sworn he’d never marry, he didn’t waste any time calling her for a date. That date turned into to several more and one evening Vince said, “You know, everybody is saying we’re going steady.”

“Oh, really,” Betty replied.

“Yeah,” he said. “So, do you want to go steady?”

She agreed and a few months later Vince showed up at her apartment wearing a sport coat and tie. In front of all three roommates, he sat her on the couch, got down on one knee and proposed.

Vince grinned. “She said yes, right away.”

He was Catholic and she wasn’t, but with her parents blessing she agreed to convert and on Aug. 3, 1957, they married at St. Mary’s Cathedral in Fargo.

“We got married the same day as our really good friends,” said Betty. “We got married in the morning and they got married in the afternoon, so we used the same flowers.”

Vince worked for Northern Pacific Railroad. After their honeymoon in the Black Hills of South Dakota, he went back to work, and she returned to her job at the bank.

She wasn’t there long because soon their first child was on the way.

“In those days women didn’t work when they were expecting,” she explained.

Their son, Paul, arrived June 23, 1958.

Vince, an only child, wanted lots of kids.

“So many times in my life, I wished I had a brother or a sister,” he said.

Betty came from a family of seven, which was fortunate, because with the births of Jimmy in 1960 and Terri in 1961, she had three kids under 3 years old.

“I washed diapers every day,” she said.

Times were tough financially, too, so Vince took a second job as a bartender.

“In one week we had a baby, the picture tube in the TV blew, and the transmission went out on the car,” she recalled.

Vince shrugged.

“We did what we had to do, and that was it. But we made it. Everything we’ve got, we earned ourselves.”

However, financial hardships were easier to bear than what came next.

The railroad had sent them to Montana and while living there, doctors recommended that all three kids have their tonsils out.

Paul and Terri recovered well, but Jimmy didn’t. He couldn’t keep anything down. At 6 a.m. on a Sunday, Vince woke to the sound of church bells pealing. Then the phone rang. It was the hospital.

“Your son just died,” the doctor said.

More than 50 years later, Vince weeps at the memory.

“He was 3 years, 10 months and 5-days-old,” he said, wiping tears away. “You shouldn’t outlive your kids.”

When asked how they got through such a painful time, Betty shrugged.

“We had to,” she said.

They moved to Minnesota, and Julie was born in January 1965, followed by Randy in December.

“That’s right. I had two kids in one year,” said Betty.

The adoption of Timothy in 1967 completed their family, but not before more sadness touched them.

Vince contracted the mumps at age 30 and was resting on the couch. Randy, 15 months, climbed up to cuddle with him and fell. He never regained consciousness and died at the hospital a short time later.

An autopsy revealed he had arteriovenous malformation, a congenital defect that could have killed him at any time. Many years later, at 58, Vince was diagnosed with the same condition and underwent brain surgery followed by lengthy recovery process.

Thankfully, he recovered well enough to enjoy retirement after 41 years of working for the railroad.

They moved to Spokane in 1985, but spent many years snowbirding in Arizona, finally moving to Safford full time.

“That first year we didn’t know a soul there,” said Vince. “We were together 24/7. That was tough!”

They both laughed.

It didn’t take long for them to plunge into the community. Betty planned the Christmas parties and for several years they dressed up as Mr. and Mrs. Claus, taking gifts to shut-ins.

They also traveled the world, spending a month in Australia, New Zealand and Tasmania. They took five trips to Hawaii and explored Europe. A favorite trip was the time they took their children and grandchildren, 13 in all, to Disneyworld.

“We had a lot of fun,” Vince said.

Betty also took up jumping out of airplanes.

“I’ve been a tomboy all my life,” she said. “Skydiving was something I always wanted to do.”

She made her first tandem jump in Seattle at age 69. She jumped again in Arizona at 72, and a couple of years ago at 79; she jumped with her granddaughter in Ritzville, Washington.

“I love it,” she said. “Once you open the chute, it’s so peaceful and quiet.”

They returned to Spokane in 2014 and are embarking on their final adventure.

While in Arizona, Betty, 81, contracted a life-threatening infection caused by a type of bacteria called clostridium difficile. Her kidneys failed and she’s now on dialysis three days a week.

Vince, 82, has advanced esophageal cancer.

They’re matter-of-fact about the short time they have left together, treasuring each day, each moment.

“You have to love the other person more than you love yourself,” said Vince. “She’s my baby, my sweetheart, my rock.”

Betty said they’ve always been able to talk about everything.

“Communication is the most important thing in a marriage. You have to get things out in the open – you have to talk.”

Even about painful things.

“We’ve already made the decision that when he passes, I’m going off dialysis,” Betty said.

Vince understands her choice.

“When I go,” he said. “I’m going to walk really slow so she can catch up with me.”