An Old Fashion Love Story

James F. Gauss

February 3, 2025

Ahh, February.  Spring is in the air (sort of) and the heart springs eternally.  It’s the month of Valentine’s Day.

About 64 years ago I began courting the love of my life—although I did not know who she was yet. But, I’m getting ahead of the story, so let me back up a bit.

I graduated from high school in June 1960.  My entire formative years were spent in one house, one community and one school system where I had many friends and associations. My father had passed away a month before my 14^th birthday in 1956. It was now over four years later, and my mother felt it was time to move on with a change of location about 80 miles south.  I was bummed. Moving to an unfamiliar town and knowing no one there right before heading to college was not in my game plan.  The saving grace, so to speak, was that the new home was a stone’s throw from the popular Jersey Shore (not the one on TV). So, I tried to make the best of it.

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One summer evening I happened upon a group of older teens and young adults playing softball in a local sand lot (with real sand)—the area was nothing but sand.  After standing around watching, I was asked if I wanted to play.  I played baseball throughout high school but never played softball, but gladly joined in.  It became an almost evening summer ritual, and I developed new friendships.  One of the young men had a sister (Miss M) who consistently came to watch, and we got to know each other somewhat (not who this story is about).

In late August I headed off to Clemson University to start my freshman year and Miss M headed to nursing school in Trenton, NJ.

When I returned home over Christmas break, I was a little lonely, so I called Miss M and asked if she wanted to go to a movie and burgers.  No romance intended, just friendship. At the end of Christmas break I asked if she would mind writing to me occasionally to keep in touch.  She agreed, and we became pen pals for a short period. Until about March, when I received a kind of “Dear John” letter. She had found the love of her life, and he did not want her to write to me anymore.  Kind of controlling, don’t you think?

I wrote back to her with a kind of “tongue in cheek” response (that is, not to be taken seriously, for you young folks).   I wrote, I’m happy you found someone, now please find someone for me.

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Shortly after, to my surprise, Miss M sent me the name of a fellow nursing student and her address. She thought we would be a “good match.”

Now, I was always told that I was a mostly shy kid.  Not an introvert, but quiet.  However, for some reason, I wasted no time in firing off a letter to this new young lady who went by the nickname of “Kit.”

I eagerly awaited a reply.  One week. Nothing! Two weeks. Nothing! Three weeks. Nothing! Okay, that was a dead end, I thought. However, unknown by me, on the other end, there were the unrelenting forces of female peer pressure fervently at work.

Back at the nursing school, Miss M and her student cohorts were hard at work trying to convince Kit she should write to this nice, but unknown young man.  However, Kit was reticent, not wanting to write to some stranger. Finally, her fellow students drew the line and locked her in her room until she produced a letter to this “good looking” Clemson man.

I finally received Kit’s letter and the “flood gates” were opened. No photo, but kind, inviting words.  I quickly sent off a response.  She replied. We eventually exchanged photos, and hers blew my socks off.  She was gorgeous.  We talked on the phone frequently and shared the same ideals.  I loved her sweet voice.

What a beauty and she still has that tantalizing “cowlick” in front.

I couldn’t wait for the spring semester to end so I could drive the 750 miles back home and set a time for our first in person meeting and date. I wasted no time, and in late May 1961 I was ringing the doorbell of the nursing student residence. The house mother invited me to wait in the parlor as she summoned Miss Kit. My heart was fluttering as I awaited with anticipation.

As Kit came walking toward me, I was overwhelmed by her grace, character and beauty. We went to a movie. I do not remember which one.  Kit says we talked through much of it. Afterwards, we got something to eat and talked more.

By the end of the evening, I knew without a doubt that I had found my soulmate, my help mate.  Not that I was looking. It just exploded onto the scene unexpectedly. She later confessed that she felt the same, even though she was scared to death about our blind date meeting.

We spent a lot of time together during the summer of 1961 even though she was an hour away continuing her nursing studies during the summer. We got to know each other well and grew close together.

Gifts for Her

Gifts for Him

I dreaded the thought of having to return to college so far away.  I had a good summer job.  However, at the end of the summer I was still far short of self-financing another year at Clemson. So, I decided to continue working with plans of returning to campus in the fall of 1962. The thought of being able to continue the relationship with Kit was certainly a prime motivating factor. It was a great two-pronged decision.

Making the long drive back to Clemson in late August 1962 was emotionally painful.  I dreaded leaving Kit behind, but we remained in contact almost weekly.

Sometime during that fall of my sophomore year, three fellow students from New Jersey and me, all lovesick for our girls back home, hatch a hair brained idea of a round-trip excursion to visit our sweethearts over a long weekend. We ditched our Friday classes and headed north in my tiny English Ford Anglia right after our Thursday classes. The “plan” was to drive the 750 miles straight through to Trenton, drop the other three off at the Greyhound bus station to catch their buses home by noon on Friday.  That was the plan.

My 1958(?) English Ford Anglia (3 on the floor).

As night fell upon us in Greensboro, NC, we discovered that the car had no headlights. We quickly got behind a semi and then took the next exit into Greensboro. As we limped cautiously into town, we discovered that there were no car repair shops open but parked in front of one for the night. We were forced to “sleep” like sardines in the car. First thing Friday morning the nearby repair shop determined the alternator was shot, but he could fix it for $35.  Between the four of us we barely had gas money, so I decided to call home to see if mom could wire some money. That did not materialize, and we were stuck. We took inventory of our total resources and decided to check the cost of an alternator at Pep Boys. We bought the alternator and were able to borrow some tools from the repair shop, replace the alternator, and were on our way. However, now it was late afternoon on Friday, and we were way behind our planned schedule and without any sleep.

We arrived in Trenton in the early morning hours of Saturday. My three buddies still had to catch a bus to their final destinations.  Kit was at her fellow student’s home in Trenton anxiously awaiting my arrival and had no idea where I was or why I had not arrived. By the time I pulled up to Kit’s girlfriend’s home I had been up over 48 hours, and I was exhausted.  As happy as I was to finally wrap my arms around her, I desperately needed some sleep (and a shower).  I fell on the bed in the guest room and I’m not sure how long I slept, but it certainly diminished our time together. We had precious little time together and before we knew it, it was time to meet the other guys at the bus station and make the long marathon drive back to campus before Monday classes started.

After that debacle, Kit (Kathleen) and I seriously started talking about our future life together. Over Christmas break we got engaged, with plans to marry right after she graduated from nursing school.

There is much more to the story, but I’m not writing a book and want to get to the most important part of this love story.

On September 7, 1963, we were united in holy matrimony (as it was referred to then). What made our union unique by today’s standards was that we made a promise—a covenant—with each other, that no matter whatever we faced in the future, we would never separate but would work out any challenges life brought to us together.

Last September we happily celebrated our 61^st anniversary.  Life has not been easy.  We’ve had our challenges, disappointments, our financial difficulties and painful losses of loved ones. Two things have brought us through each one: our covenant marriage before God and our common faith in Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior. Without either, we our convinced our marriage would have rested on the dung heap of failed unions. Praise God we did not, and we are the stronger for it and still madly in love.

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