I was married on this day (August 27) in 1966 to my high-school sweetheart. (I wish I could find the picture of Alan and me on that day, but I can't.)
Alan only attended Triton for one year, and for the one year he was missing from my high school life, I mourned. At least I think that's what I did. He was in Kenya, Africa and there was very little opportunity for communication. Air letters -- they were blue, tissue thin, cost 12 cents for air mail, and held only one page of communications. Not at all like today with instant messaging anywhere in the world, Skype, etc. That would have been so very nice.
I spent hours at the post office, going twice a day to check our family's mail box to see if I had received a letter from him. Most days I didn't, then I would get several all at once. Mail from Kenya to USA was iffy at best. And I suppose it was the same on the other end, although Alan never complained.
When Alan returned to the US in 1963, we picked up where we left off -- sweethearts once again. Three years later we were married. We had to get married at a time when his parents were home from a five-year missionary stint in Kenya, and that happened to be in 1965-66 (late '65).
FINALLY, we were getting married. Alan was still at Rutgers. I was out of college. So I worked after we got married and we lived in married student housing while he finished his bachelors in civil engineering, then work on and got his masters.
It's been happy most of the time. We had financial difficulties for part of our years and that was hard, but with three children the happiness was augmented.
I love my husband. I almost lost him in 2001 from bone-marrow cancer, but he's been in remission for 16 years. His oncologist says it's a miracle. He was given a year, maybe two with treatment. He beat the odds. I thank God every day that he is still with me.
I really, really love that man.