Of course you are all excited for the next episode of Dad's little black book journal.
As promised, I am sharing the next two pages of the little book where captured his memories. These sentiments include some of my favorite stories Dad used to tell, like the time he and Mom spent the whole evening in the kitchen preparing the food for the dance. Mom never protested. Dad said that was an important characteristic of Mom; she worked hard and did what had to be done without complaint. Here are two more pages exactly:
FALLING IN LOVE
My first date with Marjorie was to a University of Utah football game. Oliver and Bev double dated with us. I liked Marge and wanted to take her out again.
But only with time, though it didn't take very long, did I really begin to love her. In fact, after taking her to the football game and leaving her at her home, I took another girl to a dance that night.
I took other acquaintances out for a few weeks, but soon took Marge to a Sport Dance at the Union Building. I liked her more and when the Lamba Delta Sigma Formal Dance was held at the new Institute I asked her. I was careful to ask her well in advance, and was very happy to find she could go with me.
That night we saw Dave there and I knew when he came and asked to trade a dance that I had asked "his girl."
Thanksgiving, 1950, found me still interested in this beautiful soul whom I had just began to know for what she was.
I took Marge to the afternoon football game and out to a show that night. She asked me to come to her place for Thanksgiving dinner. It made me very happy and I did.
The following night afraid five formal dances in a row would be too fast a rush, I took another girl to a formal dance at the BYU as guest of Reed Page.
This was the last time that I took out any other girl. Being with Marge all day, and enjoying a beautiful dinner at her home was opportunity enough to see unfolded the angelic traits that she possessed.
Marjorie was the twenty-third girl whom I had dated, as I could remember, since my mission. She was the third of all of them whom I had cared to kiss, and did. I think it was the night of the formal. If not, it was Thanksgiving.
It is not strange that I should remember this so poorly, for throughout our growing friendship this never became an end or a preconceived desire.
I grew in love for her and admiration with each hour spent together. Feeling my love grow caused me to exercise caution. But I constantly found myself starting to say that I lvoed her when I knew it should wait until a deeper friendship grew.
We soon limited ourselves to one date a week, plus Sundays at church together. Not all dates were play though all were wonderfully fun. We painted her room and papered it, spent New Year's Eve Celebration in the kitchen at the Institute preparing food for a Smorgasbord--instead of eating it and dancing as we had planned, with the other 260 there that night. These are just a few of the many things we did together.
To tell them all would be to tell the story of how I learned to love her for her kind and considerate ways, her emaculate and dignified manner, her love for God and man.
We worked, planned, prayed, and grew together. And I knew that I loved her.
There you go. You'll have to wait a little bit for the next two pages PROPOSING, which I will share shortly.
These glimpses into Mom and Dad's lives make me feel close to them and remember well how lucky we are to have them both for parents. I wonder how we've been so fortunate to have the best parents a family could hope for. Their legacy lives on.
It's late and time for bed. Sweet dreams.
“Having been born of goodly parents"