Today, February 17, 2024, we are celebrating our 52nd wedding anniversary. I consider any time given to us to spend together over the half-century mark, which we celebrated in 2022, as an “omake (o-mah-keh)” or “special extra.” It reminds me to savor every moment of every day that I get to spend with the love of my life.
I still remember our wedding day like it was yesterday. David’s family could not travel from the U.S.A. to Japan for the occasion because it would have cost an arm and a leg, even for just one person, let alone the entire family.
Only a handful of family (my parents, brother, aunt) and friends were invited to the ceremony. We honored David’s mom’s wish for us to be married in a Catholic Church. It was in the City of Tachikawa, next door to the City of Yokota, home of the U.S. Air Force Base where David had worked. In retrospect, we were “kids,” who were merely 22 years old, head over heels in love with each other. We paid for everything for the wedding ourselves. After all, we were both gainfully employed. In addition to David’s military service, I was working at Newsweek Tokyo Bureau.
The reception was held at David’s rented house, off military base. It was a celebratory occasion of sushi and bologna sandwiches. That was when most Americans gagged at the thought of eating “raw fish.” Unlike today where almost everyone knows what sushi or sashimi is, in 1972, over a half-century ago, most Americans interpreted “raw” to mean “uncooked” and, therefore, “gross.” Back then, what most Americans did not realize was that it was a dish that only skilled chefs – who went through extensive training to be qualified to do what they do – could prepare. (Chef Anthony Bourdain would understand. Oh, how we miss his keen observations and sharp wit!)
In July 1972, five months after the wedding, David completed his military service, and we headed back to the U.S.A. Upon our arrival at David’s mom and dad’s then home near Hartford, Wisconsin, they more than made up for their absence at our wedding in Japan by showering us both with nothing but love. We lived at their home until we were ready to move into our own home in Oconomowoc. I distinctly remember his dad asking me, with a bit of an annoyed tone, “Why do you have to move?” By then, Grandpa and Grandma McKendry were both attached to their first-born grandchild, Jesse, and did not understand why we couldn’t just stay at their home. I experienced, for the first time in my life, what a “normal loving family” is supposed to feel like.
Shortly thereafter, Uncle Al (one of David’s mom’s younger siblings), Aunt Katie, and their entire family – with all six children – came to see us in Hartford. I still have a vivid memory of that day, meeting them for the first time. The oldest of the six is Butch. That was when I first met Butch and his bride, Sheila. I continue to cherish the moments when we get to spend time with them, typically once a year, engaging in one of my favorite activities – fishing. Thanks, Butch and Sheila!
As time went on, I realized that the way David’s mom – Mrs. Lois Mae Zinkle McKendry – lived her life revolved around her weekly visits to the Catholic Church. She was a devoted mother of five children: John (Johnny), David (Davy), James (Jimmy), Sharon, and Gary.
David’s mom was genuinely a loving person and a great role model. I felt like the luckiest daughter-in-law in the world. Sadly, however, she passed away at the tender age of 51, less than a year after her husband, David’s dad, died. I had the privilege of knowing her for less than five years. To this day, I continue to miss her very much.
In any case, happy 52nd, my love!
