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March 28, 2024

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Clark County residents tell heartwarming proposal tales

By Compiled by Scott Hewitt of The Columbian
Published: February 14, 2021, 6:02am

You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.

Maybe you’re certain this one is the one, even after just a week or two, and there’s simply no reason to postpone the inevitable. Or maybe you’ve got a strong, sweet hunch but too many immediate plans and responsibilities, so the best you can do is ask for a commitment to make a future commitment.

Or maybe, after years of happy togetherness, you suddenly realize that it’s time, for no reason at all except the obvious one: real love.

This year’s crop of Valentine tales by our readers focuses on marriage proposals. They demonstrate that sometimes you’ve got to follow your inner wisdom as it tells you when to wait, when to leap, when to enlist angel-faced reinforcements — and when to crawl into bed while the party proceeds without you.

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!

Perfectly spontaneous

Al and I lived together for 10 years. Neither considered marriage. One day, in August 2003, we were driving back from Reno and had a tiny fight. A rare occurrence. I settled in to read the local paper, as copilot to Al’s pilot. I read him the ad about $100 divorces and told him that if we got married, it would be a cheap divorce. And I was laughing as I said it.

Al got serious and said, “Let’s do it.” I thought for a split second and said in amazement, “Are you sure?” He turned the car around and drove back to Reno. We were engaged for two hours. Got married in jeans and T-shirt and flip-flops by a huge Samoan dude, an ex-bouncer with a loving philosophy. Perfect.

— Joan E. Starr, Smith Tower

Masks might have helped

“Will you marry me?” is the question I asked Vern two weeks after Valentine’s Day, 1966. I lived with my parents in Salem, Ore., and was still single at 27. Some called me an old maid, but I enjoyed being single and looking for my soulmate.

I met Vern through my parents on Feb. 1, when they asked me to substitute on their bowling team. Vern was on the other team. We ended up going dancing almost every night at Eddie’s Supper Club. On Valentine’s Day, he brought me flowers and a box of candy. This sealed my love and I decided I wanted to spend my life with him. Two weeks later, I asked him. Thank goodness he said yes.

My mother and father were going to Reno to gamble for a few days and Vern had never been to Reno, so I asked them if we could go with them and get married. The plan was to be married at a Methodist church in Sparks, a suburb of Reno, and then spend our honeymoon at The Holiday Hotel (now closed). Mother and Dad stayed there also. My mother, who used to be a cocktail waitress at the Tropics Club in downtown Reno, even arranged for our wedding dinner to be there, prepared by the Chinese chef.

My father was coming down with the flu, but because all the arrangements were completed, we still drove down from Salem. Then I started getting ill also. My mother and Vern stayed healthy.

On the morning of March 18, our wedding day, I felt pretty good but started feeling feverish after vows were said at the church. I attempted to have a good time at our wedding celebration, and prevailed, but Dad went back to his room feeling pretty ill. As soon as our dinner was over I also went back to our honeymoon suite, feeling worse.

I was asleep in our honeymoon bed when my new husband and my mother came in and asked if I would mind if they went out on the town without me and Dad! I was so ill that I told them to just go.

It will be 55 years on March 18, and we’re still married after knowing one another for only a month and a half, and the “old maid” popping the question — and my new husband spending our wedding night with his mother-in-law.

— Gail Castle, Bear Prairie

Off the fence

I had been dating Heather just a couple months. On a whim, one day in 1994, I stopped the car on a corner in a residential neighborhood in Felida. I got out and asked her to marry me.

She said, “Wait.” So, I did.

Nine years, three states, college and law school later, I took her back to the exact same corner, next to a wooden fence. This time she said, “Yes!”

We will have been married 16 years in March.

— Andrew Jurgens, Ridgefield

What happens in gym class

I did not propose to my wife. That would have been way too risky. Instead, on Valentine’s Day 1997, I visited her while she taught her first-grade class at Yacolt Primary School, to have lunch and help out in class.

I went with the class to P.E., where the teacher graciously allowed me to use that time to coach the kids. Upon returning to my wife’s classroom, on my cue, they said in unison:

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Miss Hutchins. Will you marry Mr. Strizver?”

There was no way she could say no to all those beautiful little faces. It was an extra special blessing that her mom happened to be helping in the classroom that day, and was just as surprised and delighted.

— Chris Strizver, Battle Ground

90 percent of dentists agree

“Marry the right person,” reads a poster on my wall. “This one decision will determine 90 percent of your happiness or misery.”

Nineteen more of life’s rules are listed below it and “Success” is written in big letters at the top. I didn’t have this poster before I married Dave, and haven’t followed all its rules, but somehow, 45 years ago, I got the 90 percent part right.

One June day in 1975, at Fort Lewis, Dental Clinic No. 1 was busy as usual, providing dental care to over 100 Army soldiers. Little did I know then that one of them was my future husband. He was friends with Dr. Mike Neary, the dentist I was assisting that day. They were both captains in the Army and had gone on biking and skiing trips together.

After calling Dave from the waiting room, where he was among a sea of green uniforms, I got him settled into the dental chair before the doctor came in. Our first conversation went something like this:

“I’ve been out in the field a lot, so I haven’t been able to floss my teeth,” he said.

“Oh really?” I replied. “Did you know that you can use other things, like a piece of grass or string, instead of floss?”

“No, I never thought of that. Maybe I’ll try to remember to bring some floss next time.”

A few evenings later, my phone rang, and it was Dave. He had invited the dentist, Mike, over to his place for homemade spaghetti. Whether it was because of Mike’s urging or a little too much wine with dinner, Dave asked me out. I remembered which patient he was and said yes.

One unusual part of our courtship was that Dave never proposed to me. It wasn’t long before we just started talking in future tenses and looking at wedding rings. I wasn’t disappointed that he didn’t ask me to marry him, and was even somewhat proud of it. Being together forever felt like the natural thing to do and, unlike other couples, a formal marriage proposal was not necessary.

We were married nine months later, at noon on a Tuesday, during the daily mass at the Fort Lewis Post Chapel.

Dave says he always thought that my advice about flossing his teeth with a piece of grass was weird and I must admit, it wouldn’t have worked. We sometimes joke that he was just another guy in green, but fortunately, he was the right one.

— Mary Bryant, Vancouver

True love, bad knee

I met Chris when I was about 11 years old, at Jason Lee Middle School, and he told me he was going to marry me someday.

He moved away to Indiana for 10 years, and we talked off and on throughout the years. In 2015, he decided to move back here to be with me, and we have been together since.

In 2018, my brother and (now) sister-in law called Chris and told him he should propose to me during their wedding on the beach. Chris said no, it was their day, but they insisted. They told everyone at the wedding besides my mom and myself.

We were on the beach just south of Lincoln City. They said “I do” and my new sister-in-law went to toss her bouquet to me or her brothers’ two girlfriends. Next thing I knew, the girls stepped aside and my sister-in-law walked over and handed me her flowers. “You’re next, Sissy,” she said. “Turn around!”

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I turned around and bam! He was on one knee. I instantly started bawling and said yes. Chris had a horrible knee injury, and had a hard time down in the sand, but risked further injury just to ask me.

— Jen Gregson, Hazel Dell


Everybody Has a Story welcomes nonfiction contributions, 1,000 words maximum, and relevant photographs. Send to: neighbors@columbian.com or P.O. Box 180, Vancouver WA, 98666. Call “Everybody Has an Editor” Scott Hewitt, 360-735-4525, with questions.

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