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Romance in Rocklin: Readers share their love stories

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She said yes

Our love story began with a phone call and a tentative, heart racing answer of yes to a friend wanting to set me up on a blind date.

I was 16 years old, a senior at Roseville High School, just a few weeks away from 17. She called and said, “I know this really nice guy named Rob Kennedy. Do you want to go to the movies with my boyfriend and I on a double date?” Not having much experience in dating, I took a leap of faith and said yes. That was the beginning of our lives together.

Six years later, to the day (just so he would forever remember our anniversary), we got married at what used to be called Emma’s Bed and Breakfast in Loomis. Five years after that, we had our first child, Sarah, and three and a half years later, our son, Matthew. We also have a dog we adopted from a friend whose name is Emma (she came with that name – fate?)

We just celebrated our 15-year anniversary (21 years to the day since we met) and we love each other more now than ever. I don’t know what the secret to a long marriage is, but I do know that from day one, this relationship was easy. We never broke up and got back together, we just worked. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with this man, my blind date. Sometimes I wonder, what if I had said no, too scared to go? I would hope that we would have found each other anyway.

I love you honey. Happy Valentine’s, my love.

Katie and Rob Kennedy

 

Blast from the past

It wasn’t until 30 years into our marriage, after our mother gave us some old pictures, that we discovered that we were standing side by side in our first-grade class picture in 1956. We were in the same class in fourth grade, as well.

At 13, we started going together. One day after school, we got a calendar and we looked ahead four years and we picked out June 22, 1968, as the date we wanted to get married. We talked about having children and that if we had a boy his name would be Rob Dwayn. Hoping we would have a girl too, we would call her Tamara Gayle. We also talked that day about one day being in the ministry.

On June 10, 1968, we walked together at our high school graduation and on June 22, 1968, we were married. On July 26, 1969, Rob Dwayn was born and on May 16, 1971, Regina Gayl was born. Unfortunately, our sister-in-law took our girl’s name, but that’s OK because our daughter’s name is just what it was meant to be. In 1972, we started working with young people as youth pastors and then we became senior pastors of three different churches. We have been serving in ministry now for 39 years.

At 13, people called it “puppy love,” but puppy love is very serious to puppies because that’s the only love they know. It’s all we knew, but now after sharing our highs and lows through the years, and a love and friendship that was made in heaven, we are still sweethearts. There’s no one we would rather spend time with than each other. True love is not a thing of the past. It’s as real today for anyone who wants to pursue it after God’s design.

On June 22, 2013, we will celebrate 45 years of marriage, but 49 years of love and friendship.

Dwayn and Judy Speers

 

Love at first bite

While a student at BYU, I worked as a food server in the dorm cafeteria. I soon learned what an opportunity it was to hone my introductory skills with the unsuspecting female patrons who came to eat.

In the fall of 1985 I noticed this one blue-eyed beauty who always came in late and sat by herself as she ate dinner. I announced to the otherwise all-female line crew that as an employee of the university and a representative of Food Services, I felt it was my duty to ensure that every student had a positive eating experience and that I was going to assist this particular student in having such an experience.

The first night I approached her and asked, “Can I get you something?”  Her reply, “Away.” The crew laughed.

The second night I pulled up a chair and just smiled. She finally asked, “What do you want?”

“To get you something,” I replied.

Again she replied, this time a bit tart, “Away.”

Again my crew responded with laughter and the gagging response to mock me.

The third night they were laughing even before I approached her. This time she initiated the conversation, “What is it with you?”

With great sincerity I responded, “I just want to be of service to you.”

Knowing that the orange juice machine was on only in the morning and that we could only serve food that was on the menu, with a gleam in her eye she asked for orange juice, cherry cheesecake and milk.

“This was progress,” I thought as I walked away, feigning rejection with a bowed head.

I returned shortly with a can of frozen orange juice, a big slice of cherry cheesecake reserved for the football team’s training table, a glass of milk and two forks rolled up in a napkin.

“What’s the second fork for?” she asked. “I don’t know,” I replied, “Maybe something will come to you.”

After eating all but the last bite of cheesecake in silence, she changed forks and offered it to me with a grin on her face.

Married 26 years.

Robert S. “Roman” and Kate Montague (deceased Dec. 23, 2011)

 

Absence makes the heart grow fonder

I knew it from the start: I loved him more than he loved me. After two years of intermittent dating, I was not even close to a ring on my finger.

So, I devised a plan. If I could get my beloved to Paris, they city of lights and love, he would realize how much he cared and propose on the spot. And, after much verbal reluctance, he agreed that a short one-week vacation might be fun.

I planned everything. I schemed, I dreamed, I shopped at Victoria’s Secret. Then, the unbelievable happened. Two weeks before our departure, my beloved (who was working on his master’s degree at Pepperdine University) told me he simply couldn’t go – just couldn’t get away. Sorry.

I was devastated, and in my heart, I knew it was over. So, I went by myself. I was miserable. I cried when I saw lovers holding hands. I cursed the moon. Every day, I wrote rambling, brokenhearted letters to my beloved that I never mailed. Instead of one week, I stayed for three. I knew that I would never love again.

Several weeks after I returned home, I received a call. My beloved was calling. He said he had missed me. He made a mistake and, yes, he loved me.

I cautiously asked, “Are you asking me to marry you?”

The rest is history. We just celebrated our 37th wedding anniversary. He is still my beloved, and I am his.

Pattee and Richard Thorpe