On January 3, PGH and TED get married!
[from my 2003 GH letter:] January 3, 1943. My father and I are sitting in the minister’s study in Roslyn, Long Island. It is a few minutes before twelve, but I am totally relaxed. When Dad and I left the house half an hour ago to walk the short mile to the church on a beautiful sunshiny day, there was no way that the women were going to be ready on time for the scheduled noon start of our wedding ceremony. And I can use the relaxation. It has been a rather hectic week.
December 28 Thea and I had gone for a long walk in a Winter Wonderland and discussed the future of our two-month old engagement to be married. There was a war on – – it was one year after Pearl Harbor. It was not an easy time for me. I could not see that we had any alternative to the war against Hitler and Japan; but I could not see myself killing another human being. I had just finished my last course at Antioch College so I was due to be drafted. And there was “us”. In the sublime certainty that is only possible in one’s twenties, we knew that we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. But should we get married now? Or wait until the war was over? What about children? So we didn’t Build a Snow Man. We talked.
When we returned to Conspire as we Sit by the Fire, these are the Plans that we Made to Face Unafraid: I would join the Maritime Service, we would get married, and we would wait until after the war to have children. So, in the space of a week we found a church and a minister, got marriage licenses, took blood tests, bought wedding rings, invited family members and close friends, made train and hotel reservations for a brief honeymoon in Boston – – and I enrolled in the U. S. Maritime Service to be trained as a sailor in the Merchant Marine. – –
Omigosh! The clock is striking twelve. The organ is playing Here Comes the Bride. We’re on! – – And a few minutes later we are Mr. and Mrs. Philip Hodge. Sixty years ago.
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