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OH, THOSE ROADS IN THE YELLOW WOOD...

The exact day that my father first looked upon my mother is forever lost to the ongoing annals of history, but my mother did know for certain that he was the ornery little boy who knocked over the small outdoor table where she and his younger sister were playing with their dolls ...circa 1929. Their parents knew one another, although the close-knit Mennonite communities in which they lived were on opposite sides of the James River and separated by over an hour's drive, thereby limiting associations. Neither of my parents could pinpoint another instance where memory brought them together until 1938, some eight or nine years later. So that's where my father's oft-told story would begin.

The groups of youth from Fentress and Denbigh would occasionally get together for activities, thereby expanding the pool of nice young Mennonite women from which the young men could cast about for future mates. My father was smart, good-lookin' and always ready to have some fun, and he was not yet ready to 'cast about' too seriously in the summer of 1938. He was eighteen. It's true, however, he'd already been enjoying the company of young women for quite some time, and had even broken the heart of at least one sweet young thing. But now the annual boat ride, a favorite event of the young people, was coming up, and he was between girlfriends.

"Who're you takin' on the boat ride?" It was his cousin Johnny asking. Johnny'd surely be traveling with him to the Denbigh side of the river, where the youth would be meeting and the boat would embark.

"Oh," said my future dad, "I thought I'd ask Edith Hertzler, I hear she's a right nice girl."

But Johnny had other ideas. "No sir!" he responded, "You can't do that! I'm already plannin' to take Edith. But hey, she's got a younger sister named Dora. Why don't you ask her?" He paused ..."Only thing is, she's pretty young. I don't know if her mama'll let her date."

Well, young Dan took up the suggestion, not daunted by the fact that he didn't recall ever meeting her; and who knew...he might get a no from her mama! Furthermore, he couldn't just pick up the phone and call her--in those days long distance telephone calls were strictly for emergencies only. What he did was march himself right up to the front door of her home on the very evening of the boat ride. And that's when he discovered that he was a little late in his endeavor; Dora had already left with her girlfriends, most of whom lived within walking distance, as was the river where the boat was docked.

What could he do now but follow her to the river, search her out amid her group of friends, and introduce himself. Would she give him a chance? Would she be his date for the evening?

I won't leave you hanging in suspense, Dear Reader...Dora was a lovely young maiden of fifteen, demure and curvaceous. Her mama had, in fact, deemed her old enough, and she had gone on a few dates prior to this evening. But now, oh. so happily for Dan, she had no escort for the ride. Clutched in her hand was a bag of Hershey Kisses she'd carried along, intending to share them with her girlfriends. Scramble and re-write history! She shared those kisses with the dashing young Dan, who quickly won her heart...and a lifetime of kisses of the infinitely sweeter sort.

Epilogue: Their wedding ceremony took place in the living room at Dora's home in Denbigh, November 30, 1941, sixty-seven years ago today.

Johnny and Edith, newly married themselves, were their attendants.

Over the ensuing 64 years and 9 months, Dan often sang to his wife, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray..."




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