Kat's Rambling Mind

On Saturday, June 21, 1958, my parents got married. Today marks what would have been their 67th wedding anniversary, had we not lost Dad in 2021. My mother (Miss Janice) is still very much with us, though, and so we made a trip up to Dad’s grave so she could leave roses for him. I feel certain that he’s looking down and remembering the day.



The love story of Richard and Janice is a classic one that started when they were still teenagers. From the moment those two clapped eyes on each other, it was meant to be. Miss Janice says that from the first time he held her hand, she knew he was the one. And Dad felt the same way about her. You couldn’t have melted another woman and poured her on Dad. They were devoted to each other from day one.



Their wedding day was a whirlwind, because Dad had accepted a job in Gastonia, North Carolina, and they were from Hogansville, Georgia. Mom said their wedding, which was held at her home, started at 3:00 pm and by 3:15 they were married; they had cake until around 3:45, and then by 4:00 they were on the road for the long drive to North Carolina.

The expressway system was still in its infancy in the South, so the drive was at least eight hours. They stopped at a drive-in called Pete’s No. 5 in Anderson, South Carolina, for a wedding dinner of cheeseburgers, fries, and Cokes. I’m sure a T-bone steak couldn’t have tasted any better. Some forty years later, they would return to Pete’s No. 5 for another anniversary dinner. Alas, Pete’s No. 5 is no more, but the memory lives on in my family.



In July of 1959, they welcomed their firstborn son, my older brother Russ. I would follow in 1965, and our youngest sister Jennifer kind of sneaked up on them in 1970. Eventually, they moved back to Georgia, first here and then there, until they finally settled in the northeast GA mountains, in Cleveland, Georgia, in late 1964.



Growing up with parents who were genuinely in love with each other was a great experience. We never doubted that they loved each other, their kids, and our family as a unit. We did things together; where they went, we kids went with them. We rarely had babysitters because we were included. We grew up with parents who were involved in the church and community, and our school activities. I cannot stress how grateful I am for my childhood, watching two people in love lead a strong family.



After we were older they started having more time to themselves, going on vacations and trips and focusing on each other more. They rarely argued, except for a little back and forth now and then, which was to be expected as they aged. But you hardly ever saw one without the other; as they always had, they did everything together. They were truly the best of friends in addition to being in love. Dad didn’t go out with the boys, and Mom didn’t have girls nights. They hated being apart, and it worked for them. (In later years, I’d tell them how weird they were.) Dad spoiled Mom rotten, and she spoiled him in return.



Having been diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis at the age of 40, Dad’s illness became more challenging as he got older, and he lost some mobility. Mom was right there to take care of him and help him with any health issues he experienced. She was his dedicated caregiver until he passed away. I can honestly say I’ve never seen a better example of a dedicated wife. She helped him bathe and dress, and made sure they got out of the house every day to keep them both involved in life.



Mom decided that routine was very important as Dad became more frail. In addition to taking him out almost every day, she made sure they went to church on Sunday mornings as often as possible. I moved in with them around 2016, and tried not to upset their established schedule. Their days consisted of errands around town, eating out now and then, and watching TV and movies. I became the designated cook and tried to keep things simple but interesting. As Dad’s health began to fail, I helped Mom as much as I could, but as always, she tended his every need.



Eventually, the time came for this beautiful loving couple to part. Dad passed away in October, 2021. I know that Mom still misses him every day, and so do his children. But they’ll be reunited some day, and that will be a happy day. It was a privilege to grow up in a home filled with such love and devotion. Watching their love story made quite an impression on their three kids, two of which are in loving marriages of their own, as is their granddaughter. I’m the lone singleton in the family, but perhaps my story will take a turn one day. (It had better hurry, though!).


And so there you have it. I grew up witnessing what love and marriage truly meant, and it was an honor. I wish my parents a “Happy Anniversary” today, and I will every June 21st, because a love story like theirs deserved to be remembered.