What do you get for Anniversary #72?

My parents have been married 71 years. SEVENTY ONE YEARS. They met when my father's classmate Carl Langmark brought George over to the Broadmoor where my mother Bebe lived. The boys were both juniors at Western, and Bebe was a sophomore. Just fifteen and love struck, she never forgot the exact date. April 8, 1932. The two of them soon ditched their friends for alone time which Bebe accomplished with free passes to the movies at the Avalon which used to be called the Chevy Chase Theater.

George and Bebe eloped on Memorial Day 1935. George’s buddy, Fred came along as a witness, and  drove them up to Elkon, Maryland  in a 1932 Desoto convertible. (My dad has a thing about cars.) Bebe was only 17, and George had just turned 18. Besides the hurdles of being too young and pregnant, my mother was Not Greek. The deck was stacked, but they were both determined.

 As a wedding present, Fred took everyone out for fried chicken which set him back $1.25 per person. Then the newlyweds snuck back -each to their own homes- to figure out what to do next. About a week later, the jig was up.  A friend of the family in Havre de Grace saw their wedding listed in a Baltimore paper, and called my grandfather Pete. George was thrown out of the house. Pete asked the Greek community not to hire or help his son in hopes that George would come to his senses, but my dad did not give up. He had a job, plus their friend and matchmaker Carl Langmark arranged for them stay at his house that summer while his parents were away.

When my older brother, Peter was born that fall, they named him after Papou which was the tradition in Greek families. (Yes, that’s the deal with all the same names) George took the baby to see his parents, but Bebe wasn’t included on this visit or any other. She had to wait in the car.

It wasn’t until after my sister was born that my Papou relented. He would come to the Hollywood Inn where they lived, and help George and Bebe make hamburgers for the weekend customers. Sometime after my brother Roger was born, my Yiya finally threw in the towel and accepted Bebe, too. Three children and six years later.

Bebe took it all in stride. She was and is the peacemaker. She did whatever it took to help everyone get along, and to make George’s life easier.  I know it has not been easy all these years, but they are still together.

Two years ago, I remember commenting to my father on the longevity of their relationship. He was standing on the front porch with a broom in his hand and I was below him raking the yard.   Looking off into the distance, he wistfully said "You know, your mother is my best friend." Then he paused to let this thought sink in. He rarely said anything so sentimental and  I was a bit stunned. "Well, that's so nice, Dad," I managed to mumble, feeling a little choked up.

Then, putting things into perspective with his irrepressible sense of humor, he said " Of course,  all of my other friends are dead." And he finished sweeping off the porch.

Happy Anniversary, you two!