I
don’t know if I was still in high school when Howards moved into the house
where Blacks had lived. I don’t recall
how many children they had as Blaine was the only one living at home. He had an older brother who was serving a
mission. I met him for the first time
when I was going to Ricks College in Rexburg, Idaho. He had come to drop something off. I don’t even remember what. I recognized him as I thought he looked so
much like his dad.
I’m
guessing that Bob and Irma were in their sixties when they had moved into our neighborhood. Over the years we learned a bit about where
they were from, how they met, why Bob’s speech sounded as though he were
struggling to get the words out. Everybody
in the ward had to have known that they were from Logan and had been raised in
much different generation in which things were always a certain way and there
was no change. They missed seeing the
world evolve around them.
But
oh, what love and devotion each of them had for the other. We especially
noticed it with Bob after Irma had surrendered her mind to Alzheimer’s. She became fragile and he kept her at home
and doted on her. I did not see them so
much after I got married, but had heard about how each of them was doing.
My
own parents saw the world differently. They
knew life outside of Logan, Utah. They
experienced change. They were aware of
diversity. And they loved each other
every bit as Bob and Irma loved one another.
Many years before Bob took care of Irma with her unstable mind, my mom
had catered to my dad’s needs as his brain stopped sending signals to
control his muscles. Both couples
experienced unconditional love for one another – the kind of love I would be
willing to adapt into my own marriage.
Making our love stronger with each passing year and giving to one
another more than 100%.
