marriage

Originally from June 2013 for Dick and Dora’s Anniversary party.

As you know, Greg and I had a unique way of meeting. We had a genuine matchmaker, otherwise known as Julea. What you may not have known, however, is that the fine art of matchmaking has been part of this family’s story well before Julea and I entered the picture. Looking back through time, a little over 50 years ago to be exact, because I like to be exact, Georgina Barene Hartig conspired, along with her young daughter, to make the perfect match.

As the story goes, Miss Dora Lucille Hartig and her mother often left the tank of the family’s ’49 Chevy on empty so that a certain young gentleman, Mr. Richard Taylor Alan Twedt, would have to fill it up. In those days Dick’s job was to fill gas at the local station where he worked weekends. Now Dora knew Dick’s younger brother, Keith, from school and Keith was a friend of her brother, Jim. Dora liked her classmate’s older brother. She liked that Dick was tall and that he had a good disposition and he was trim. Dora’s mother liked him too. Georgina liked that Richard took his own mother shopping since she didn’t drive.

Young Richard was equally smitten with Dora. After all, the owner of the station said she was a nice girl. Dick liked that Dora went to church and wasn’t too wild. According to Dick, “It didn’t hurt that she had a good family and was always smiley.”

Shortly thereafter, it was June of 1962 and Dora graduated from high school. She went on a Hawaiian vacation with her cousins Elly, Marge, and Vonnie. Dick moped around the house the whole time she was gone. They had started dating by then, you see. Dates included a visit to the Space Needle for the 1962 World Fair in Seattle and a summer trip to Sequim to visit a relative, which Dora’s mother chaperoned. Eventually Dick gave Dora a pin. Within six months it was Christmas and Dick asked for her hand in marriage. He talked to Dora’s dad first, as he should.

The wedding was held on June 8, 1963 at the home of the bride’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. G. Monroe Hartig of Bothell. Attending the groom were David and Jim Twedt, brothers of the groom, along with Jim Hartig, brother of the bride. Cousin Linda Kitchen was the maid of honor and the late Nancy Twedt, sister of the groom, was flower girl. The happy couple honeymooned in Yellowstone National Park. Upon return they set up house in a rented apartment in Fremont. Sadly, Dora’s mom passed away on September 19, just months following the wedding. After her death, Dick and Dora temporarily moved in to help her Dad and brother.

The early years of marriage were exciting ones for the young marrieds. In 1963 Dick and Dora bought their first home in Lynnwood. Two years later, on November 8, their first son, Jeffery Alan was born. Five years after Jeff was born they became a family of four when Gregory Thomas was born.

The Twedts owned property on Lake Washington. It was never Dora’s dream to live near water so in 1974 they sold and bought 5 acres of land in Bothell, near Mill Creek. They started building the following year and by 1976 their new home was complete.

The house on Third Avenue has seen many changes over the years. If walls could speak they would certainly entertain us with tales of young Jeff and Greg scouting the land. Surely your own children were there, tagging behind the Twedt boys on their grand adventures, riding 4-wheelers, go-carts and eventually cars through the pastures. If walls could speak, we would have the pleasure of hearing first hand the inception of their family business and the building of the shop. Many of you were there, but oh how I wish I could go back through time to get a feel for what it was like to raise a young family on Dick and Dora’s farm. I don’t just want to hear of ponies being born and dogs like Jake and Jodi roaming the property, I want to see them, touch them. As a mom, I would give anything to see the look on Dora’s face when she caught Greg leading Bill the pony through the kitchen door.

If walls could speak, they would state that Dick and Dora brought their boys up right. Diligent work and good parenting molded Jeff and Greg into the honorable, hard-working and God-fearing men they are today. Dick and Dora, you raised your sons well. You did an amazing job bringing up your boys. They are good men, gentlemen.

If walls could speak, we would hear details of the story of how parents of sons became parents of daughters when Jeff and Julea married in 1996, and again when Greg married me in 2005. But most of all, I would love to hear shouts of radiant joy when Dick and Dora became grandparents for the first time in 1998 when Brad was born.

But those walls remain silent. After all, I’m not a crazy person. And since I wasn’t around in those days, I had to physically get into my minivan and drive across town to the green house on Third Avenue to hear the story of how Dick met Dora. I remember sitting in the living room laughing with my in-laws as I gathered enough scraps to write this tribute to be shared at their anniversary luncheon. To this day, that afternoon is one of my most cherished of memories of Dick and Dora. I would give anything to hear how they met and fell in love just one more time.

Dick and Dora mostly joked during our time together. The secret to sustaining a 50-year marriage, according to Dick, is that “She can cook and I’m glad of it.” By the way, chow mien and Dora’s signature apple and pumpkin pies are his absolute favorite. Of course, all the talk of food led to Dora cracking a few jokes about Dick’s waistline.

They shared stories that are funny and dear to them, like when the obnoxious cemetery salesman from Floral Hills came to the house. They felt so bad for him that they bought two plots just to get him to go away. They also laughed about the real reason Dora does not cook breakfast. Jokes aside, Dick and Dora noted, “You have to have patience and try to get along. You gotta work your problems out.” And get along they did for 50 years.

In closing, Jeff, Julea, Greg and I would like to honor the remarkable 50 year marriage journey of Richard and Dora Twedt. Dick and Dora, it couldn’t have been easy, but you did it. In a society where honor means little and the lack of fidelity would make Georgina Hartig blush, you did it. We applaud you and honor you for upholding your wedding vows for the past 50 years. Just think of it, 50 years ago a match was made, and it was the perfect match.

Our thirteenth wedding anniversary is on Sunday. Thirteen years is something to get excited about, especially since one of us is an INFJ and the other is an ISTP. All the same, I admit to feeling blah about this one. For some reason I thought our fourteenth anniversary was coming up and fourteen is nearly fifteen. Thirteen is sort of a letdown compared to fifteen. Who am I kidding? Every year is worthy to celebrate, even and especially year thirteen since it was a killer of a year. So celebrate we will, Star Wars style. You know you’re with the right person when they’re willing to share their anniversary with Luke Skywalker. The Last Jedi was a letdown for some, I’m aware of it. But I happened to love the latest in the Star Wars franchise. I cried through the entire movie when Steven and I saw it on New Year’s Eve, yes I did. Even my snack-sized bag of Sour Path Kids was a distraction. And nothing stands in the way between me and my Sour Patch Kids.

Anyway, I’m going to try to keep this brief. Emphasis on try. Brief isn’t what I do well, but every week I try. If it’s your first “Weekend Roundup,” all you need to know is that a Weekend Roundup is what happens when I share the work of my friends at Hope*Writers, an online writing group I belong to. Much to my surprise, all five posts kinda-sorta have to do with the New Year or at least winter. I love it when randomness forms a pattern.

First off is an organizing-gone-wrong story by Karen Gauvreau. It’s the perfect read for a snow day. Here it is for your enjoyment. Since organizing-gone-wrong happens to be the story of my life, and if I actually knew Karen outside of Hope*Writers and Facebookland, I’d want to meet her once a week at Starbucks. We’d go there to laugh about our parenting fails over lattes or whatever it is that Karen drinks.

Moving on.

Are you the kind of person who chooses a word for the year? I am. It’s been my practice since college, before choosing a word was a thing. It’s worth mentioning that I never really choose a word. The word always finds me, and I don’t want it initially, especially 2017’s word. You can read about it here. Anyway, I wanted to write about my word for 2018 but haven’t had the chance. I was set to spend Tuesday writing in my comfy leggings and the raspberry sweatshirt with the thumb holes, the one like Amy’s from Old Navy. It was going to be the epitome of cozy writing time. And it was until I logged onto Facebook at 10:15 a.m. Much to my horror, the vast amount of back-to-school posts clued me in to the fact that Tuesday, not Wednesday, was the first day back for our district. Parent Fail. (I should share this story with Karen at Starbucks, but I’m not a stalker.) By some miracle, we made it to school by 10:50, which is impressive since Emily and Lauren were still in their jammies and I had three lunches to pack. Good thing I received a few CC beanies for Christmas — showering wasn’t an option. In the chaos of it all, I forgot to write about my word and ended up at Target once the Twedtlings were safely deposited at the elementary school. So you see, I’ve got nothing to show for my word for 2018. However, Dorina Lazo Gilmore wrote a splendid essay on her word in Embracing a Sense of Wonder for the New Year. Check it out.

The following essays deal with having the right approach to the New Year. Jenny Howell writes about having a fresh heart perspective in January. Here you go. Niki Hardy took another approach in New Year No Thanks. You can’t hear me, but I’m shouting Amen and Hallelujah in response to both pieces.

I know it’s a stretch, but the final essay is also winter-related, well sort of. Who doesn’t need a little help in the self-care/soul-care department going into the new year? Emily Sue Allen kicks off a brand new series over at Kindred Mom about self-care. According to Emily, the series “explores various facets of how mothers might invest in the health of their whole family, beginning with themselves.” Warning: this isn’t a post or series about escapism in the form of bubble bath. You can read the first essay of the series here.

That’s all I’m going to link to today. I need to jump in the shower at some point. It’s true that my new CC Beanies and dry shampoo cover a multitude of sins, but at a certain point, showers are no longer optional. Have a wonderful winter weekend everyone!