My first wife, Cindy, and I celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary in 2009 with a trip to Niagara Falls. It was an attempt to compensate for the low-budget honeymoon we experienced in 1969 when we were a pair of nearly broke newlyweds.

The year 2009 was about the time that a few friends our age were going through life changes that involved dating. Cindy and I didn’t agree on everything but on this issue we were in lockstep thinking. We both agreed that we were happy we didn’t have to go through the process of dating again.

We were happy being a predictable old married couple.

In early 2013 Cindy died suddenly and unexpectedly. I was devastated and thought my world had ended. We had our own interests but Cindy and I did a lot of things together including going out for supper on Saturday nights and taking a long ride exploring our part of Iowa. I worked long hours and got through my work days okay but evenings and weekends were dreadfully lonely without Cindy.

A month or so after Cindy’s passing I decided to go out for the first time for a fast-food meal on a Saturday night. As I sat alone in the restaurant I noticed that most tables were occupied by couples and families. It was a miserable experience.

Several more weeks went by. My family had a potluck meal at my brother’s house. My siblings and their spouses were kind and considerate but I felt so alone.

When I left for home later in the evening and was alone in my car I threw a little hissy fit. I hated being alone.

On the one-hour drive home, I passed by a familiar small town and it occurred to me that a widow of my acquaintance lived there. I silently wondered how she was doing and if she would go out to dinner with me.

The rest of my way home I thought of all the reasons why she wouldn’t go out to dinner with me and why I shouldn’t even ask her. Besides, I thought, Cindy had been gone only three months. It was way too soon to be thinking like this.

By the time I arrived at home I had put my widow friend out of my mind. Upon awakening the next morning she was the first thing I thought of. After another mental argument I put her out of my mind again.

This occurred every day. I would think of this woman, mentally argue with myself and put the thought out of my mind … until the next day.

After nearly two weeks of this, I finally decided either God was trying to tell me something or I had an obsession.

I called my sister who was a good friend of the woman I couldn’t get out of my mind. When I asked my sister what was wrong with the gal, I was scolded. There was nothing wrong with Julie Keller, she said adamantly. But, hey, an old newsman must ask hard questions.

I decided I would call this Julie lady and ask her to go out to a meal with me.

All of Cindy’s and my conversations about being happy not to have to go through the dating game again came back to my mind. I punched Julie’s number into my phone several times, disconnecting immediately thereafter to ensure the call didn’t go through. I had done that before, even as a terrified 20-year-old when I called Cindy the first time in 1968.

I finally touched the number and let it ring. Long story short I asked Julie if she would go out to supper with me, she said “yes,” and a year and a half later we were married.

That wedding took place 10 years ago this month. Even though it was difficult to make the first call it was easy to ask for her hand in marriage.

Marrying in your 60s is different than the first time around but it is just as wonderful and meaningful. I knew Julie’s first husband and Julie knew my Cindy. We speak of them often and cherish our memories. I had 43 years with Cindy and Julie had 27 years with Bill. She loves my children and I love hers … including her five smart and good-looking grandkids.

I am still of the opinion that I would hate to go through the dating game again, but I must tell you: it was worth it both times!

Arvid Huisman can be contacted at huismaniowa@gmail.com. ©2024 by Huisman Communications.