A Tale of Travels and Promises

An Impromptu Engagement

My husband and I began dating in my senior year of high school. He was a college student in Washington DC with dreams of studying in Europe, a dream that came true the next year. He left shortly before I started classes at a college in Maryland. By the time he returned, my family had moved to Kentucky. I chose to accompany them and attend college there.

He visited in October 1975, the week my sister’s son turned three. Mom sent us to the grocery to get chocolate ice cream for the party. We sat in heavy traffic when he said offhandedly, “You know, we could get married.” 

I almost crashed into the car ahead of us. Marriage had never entered my mind. At age nineteen, I saw it as something you did later on, after you traveled and started a career and answered at least one or two of the more burning questions in your mind.

“Well,” he said, “what do you think?”

“I think you need to make a choice. We can talk about this or I can keep driving, but both things can’t happen at the same time.”

We decided to get a cup of coffee and talk. Several cups of coffee later, we’d covered every reason why this was a completely impossible notion. We didn’t live near each other, and we were broke. Neither of us had more than a vague concept of what we’d do after college.

There’s only one thing we couldn’t knock down, our feelings for one another. And so, we became engaged.

Returning to the car, we found melted chocolate ice cream all over the back seat. We cleaned it, bought more ice cream, and drove to my parent’s house. Mom was annoyed by our late arrival.

“Where on earth have you been?”

I handed her the ice cream. “Um, Alton proposed.”

Her face lit up. “He did? That’s wonderful!” Then she gave me a wary look. “What did you say?”

We married exactly three months later, over winter break from school. After so many separations, neither of us felt like waiting to plan a formal wedding. It was a simple ceremony in my parents’ living room with ten people in attendance. Our one indulgence came with the  flowers. I carried a nosegay of red roses and he wore a red rose in his lapel.

The ‘Now What?’ Stage

Alton left a couple of weeks later for his final semester. I began thinking about the adult responsibilities that lay ahead of us. Although the U.S. economy had begun to recover from a lengthy recession, unemployment and inflation remained high. This is worrisome for a new graduate. It’s also an important consideration for a college sophomore who hadn’t declared a major.

I remember a conversation with a guy at the student union.

“What are you majoring in?” he asked.

“Not really sure, but I’m leaning toward liberal arts.”

He smirked. “You mean, waiting tables.”

It was a rude but not inaccurate thing to say. Even liberal arts professors told you not to expect a job after graduation. About the only people with a shot at that were business graduates.

I also doubted my husband would fare much better with a degree in government. His long-term goal was to become an attorney, which meant law school. How could we manage that with me waiting tables? 

On the other hand, I knew absolutely nothing about business. I decided to investigate the requirements for business majors, to see if it might be possible. Before long I had it narrowed down to economics and accounting. Economics held greater interest for me, but accounting had the reputation as a better bet for jobs. I majored in accounting.

Alton came to Kentucky after his graduation, and we found an apartment. He got a job as a night manager at a restaurant. We were broke, in love and living on dreams. Each anniversary, he’d bring me a red rose from the grocery as a remembrance. 

After I finished the requirements for my degree, we moved back to the Washington area. Alton became an attorney. I became a Certified Public Accountant. The next years were a blur of long hours, commuting, and endless cups of coffee. Once we paid off his loans from school, I quit to write full time. I had supported him in his dream, now he wanted to support me in mine.

Finding Common Ground

Fast forward to 2008. The engaged couples shared their wedding and honeymoon plans. They sent shower invitations with detailed registries. One couple had an engagement party. Another announced plans for a destination wedding. I found myself thinking about marriage as a shared destination of many different journeys. From the beginning, I could tell these musings would end in a poem.

I scribbled on the backs of grocery receipts, paper towels, whatever was available when a thought came to me. These fell into three categories: the recognition of love, the decision to marry, thoughts about marriage. Everything revolved around two principles, travels and promises.

After finishing the first drafts, I shared it with a couple of people I trust. Working from their notes, I created a revised draft and then a final. I gave a copy to each engaged couple and was thrilled by their responses.

This started a tradition where I gave a copy of the poem to friends and family members who became engaged. One niece and nephew honored me by including it as part of their wedding ceremony. Travels and Promises will also be featured in the newsletter of author Jose Nodar in 2026, the year Alton and I celebrate our fiftieth anniversary.