A Love Story

Where was I?  ah, my parent’s whirlwind love story.  Let’s see how many of the details I can pull out.  All of this is collected from my memory, bits and pieces, of what they’ve told me over the past 28 years.

Right about this time, 30 years ago, my parents were getting all the details down for their wedding about to happen in four days, and my mom had just proposed a couple of days before.

Let’s start from the beginning though.  My mom worked at a Korean bar, owned by Vietnamese people that she knew.  This was in Kansas, by the way.  That’s not important except that I find it funny that there’s a Vietnamese-owned bar specializing in Korean food anywhere in Kansas.  One of my goals in life is to go back one day.  I was born in Kansas, but haven’t been back since I was 5 months old.  My mom has told me that there’s nothing there, but I’d just like to see it, feel it.   I doubt the bar is still there, though.

My mom grew up in Vietnam.  She came to the US when she was 17 and a newlywed.  Things happened that I’m not going to tell and ruin this love story with, and they divorced.  There she was, in Kansas, newly divorced.  My dad, meanwhile, grew up in Rhode Island.  He enlisted in the ARMY, and went through the whole boot camp thing.  It was time for his first assignment.  My grandfather, his father, had also been in the ARMY, which is why my dad was born in Kansas.  He requested to go back to Kansas for his first assignment and they sent him to Ft. Riley.  Now there he was, in Kansas.

Back at the bar, my mom cooked there.  Best food my dad ever tasted.  After eating there once, he tells me that he went back every single day just because of the food.  (Yeah, it couldn’t have been because my mom was hot, right?    I know that I just called my mom hot, and that should never be said by a person’s child, but I’ve seen the pictures of them at the bar together.  She was amazingly pretty.)  So, my dad loved the food *snort*.  He still thinks she’s the best cook.  In fact, I know that a couple of those Korean recipes is, and always has been, on permanent rotation with the rest of the food they cook at their house.

For the next two months my parents didn’t see each other at all.  They hadn’t dated, yet.  They started dating about 3 or 4 months after my dad first starting going to the Korean bar. Then my dad went back.

They had their first date in August.  I don’t know who asked who out, but they decided to have a picnic together.  How romantic right?  A picnic in August first date.  My mom offered to make all the food for the picnic, and, of course, since my dad loved her cooking agreed to let her.  My mom wanted to make something that would go well with a picnic and decided that sandwiches were her best bet.  I happen to agree.  With a sandwich you don’t need utensils and it helps with the whole picnic thing.  She made her favorite sandwiches and took them on the picnic with her.  They go on the picnic and my mom hands my dad his sandwich, a cow tongue sandwich.  I imagine his reaction was much the same as you probably feel now, unless you happen to be like my mom and like cow tongue sandwiches.  I don’t remember if my dad actually ate the sandwich.  I do know that my mom has never made cow tongue again, and that my dad told me this story when I was about 12 at a grocery store when I spied an odd-looking piece of meat, cow tongue, and asked what it was.

They dated for a full week.  They were out on another date, I believe it was a Friday night, but I don’t know if I’m remembering that correctly.  No matter.  They were out on their date and my mom turns to my dad and says, “let’s get married.”

Just like that.  There was no ring, no romance, no down on one knee – hell, it wasn’t even my dad that proposed.  My mom just knew, and from experience, well, my mom doesn’t mess around.  She just does it.  I do love that.  That she just knew.  My husband said something similar when we first started dating, that the first time he ever saw me he just knew he was going to marry me.  Ah, but this isn’t my love story – another time.

My dad thought it over and agreed.  They spent the next week, one full week, preparing for their wedding.  It kept them busy getting ready that week, but it was simple.  They were surrounded by friends.  Had a party.  After the wedding my dad called his family to tell them he was married now.  And my mom, after they were married, had to call the other 3 men she had been dating at the time that she was no longer available.    Well, I told you she was hot.

It’s 30 years later.  I am beyond happy for them.  The rest of the stuff is great, the beginning, but this is what I love.  The 30 years of love, of family, of raising me, of being with their grandkids, of knowing each other more than anyone has ever or will ever know them.  That’s the love story – the 30 years that they spent building their life together.  That’s what I want – a love story, a lifetime together.