He was from the city, she was from the country. He was a lady's man, and she was a tom-boy. He had a nice car, and she needed a ride. I used to love listening to my grandparents giggle while telling both sides of the story of how they met and fell in love almost 70 years ago.
They met in their senior year of high school, and Bev wasn't exactly in Tom's plans. He had dates lined up for every night he had off work, and she didn't go steady with boys who dated around. Much to her surprise, he actually cancelled his dates in hopes of going out with the pig-tailed, Levi's wearing girl from Navarre. As stubborn as she was, she still said no to him and chose to sit at home and listen to the radio, while he called into the station with a series of romantic songs dedicated to her. Well alright, she thought maybe it might be fun to go for a ride in his snazzy new convertible after all. And so with throngs of broken-hearted ladies behind her, Grandma got a ring on her finger by '48, and Grandpa left for military duties, but I found the stacks and stacks of letters he wrote to her while they were separated.
The yellowed letters are held together with rotting rubber bands, and the painfully neat handwriting of my grandfather is starting to fade away. But tonight I'm going to look through those letters and remember what a great example they were to me of true love and commitment. Miss you, Grandma.

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