How I Met My Spouse

Searching for "His Girl"

IN 1931, when I was 16 and living in Evanston, Illinois, I was walking home after playing baseball at Mason Park when I noticed a young blonde pushing a baby buggy a few yards in front of me.

As I passed and turned to look at her, my reaction was Wow! She was beautiful. I carefully observed which house she went into so I could "run across" her again. But I later found out that she didn't live there, and no one seemed to know who she was. Over the next three years, my mother and older brothers insisted I date other girls, but I wouldn't. I kept looking for my beautiful blonde.

When I was 19, I finally saw my girl ice-skating at Mason Park. Although I'd never been on skates before, I borrowed a pair and staggered onto the ice.

The girl was at the end of a "whip," and she fell right in front of me. I picked her up and kissed her. She proceeded to slap me and said I was fresh. I told her that I'd been looking for her for three years. When she called for her brothers and cousins, I thought they were going to beat me up, but they just laughed.

I found out her name was Elda Whitcomb, and I phoned every day to ask her for a date, but she always said no. After many weeks of this, I told my mother I would call her just one more time.

I phoned Elda and said I was going to take her to a movie or else, and she accepted. I later learned that she thought I was threatening her. I guess my Italian name made her think I was a mobster. When I told her that I'd seen her entering a house with the baby buggy, she told me it was the house of an acquaintance and that she'd never gone back there.

My beautiful Elda and I dated for three years and were married in 1937.

—Rudy Maurizi
Warner Robins, Georgia

A Glance and a Wink

IN 1942, while riding the bus from Coeymans High School to my home in Selkirk, New York, I spotted a great-looking girl crossing the Ravena High School yard. I saw her glance in my direction and quickly winked at her. She immediately winked back.

I eventually found out her name was Doris and got up the nerve to ask for a date. When I went to pick her up at her family’s dairy farm in nearby Coeymans Hollow, Doris was about to herd the cows from the upper pasture into the barn. It didn’t matter that she had a date; it was her duty.

I pitched in and helped her complete the chore, and we went on to a school dance.

I joined the Navy after graduation, and when I came home on leave in 1944, we had these photos taken. One of them shows just how strong this farm girl was.

We were married in 1946, and I often think back on how quickly I was smitten with a farm girl I first saw at a glance.

—Pete Hoffman
Rio Vista, California