How they met

Marilyn Pellini

In a previous story, I believe that I told you how my husband Al and I met when I was in the fourth grade, and he was in the second. Yes, a younger man!

We knew each other over many years and always exchanged pleasantries when I would go over to visit his sister Anna, my good friend. The summer we were 24, Anna was getting married, but I almost missed the wedding. Although I was already a teacher, I needed to earn some summer money and was thinking of going to Cape Cod to waitress. I never followed through with that idea, and at Anna’s wedding Al and I danced the night away. We made plans to go to the beach the next day, and the rest was history.

My son, Mike, had gone to Bucknell with his wife, and they met up again at their 10th reunion. He was working as a lawyer in Atlantic City, and Jane was an OB/GYN in Philadelphia. He remembered that she came from Greenwich, and she seemed to know he was from the Bedford area. Jane told Mike that she knew a number of Bucknell people in their area of southern Jersey/Pennsylvania. They exchanged business cards and Mike thought she would let him know if a Bucknell event was scheduled in their area. Jane said that she waited for a call the first week and there was none. At the end of the next week, her medical school roommate invited Jane to her folk’s house on the Jersey shore. The friend had just gotten engaged and wanted Jane to meet her new fiancé. Jane called Mike and asked if he would join the three of them for dinner. He was delighted. He had assumed Jane was not married since she was not wearing a ring, but he had no idea whether she had a serious boyfriend or not. When Mike got to the house where he was to meet up with Jane, he was introduced to everyone in the home. One young fellow said, “Pellini, Pellini… I used to have the nicest substitute teacher named Mrs. Pellini.” Mike came back with, “And you went to John Jay.”

Pellini is an unusual Italian last name, and for him to have had a sub by that name, Mike just knew it had to be me. Again, the story was all ready for the history books.

My daughter, Lynn, was changing careers at age 28. She was going to medical school. To be sure this was her calling, she would work at the hospital every chance she got. One night, one of the young doctors invited her up to the operating room to see some operations in progress. She spent many hours standing in a corner observing. When all was concluded, she walked out with the young doctor, and he said, “I’ll bet you are considering a pre-med track when you go to college because I see you here in the hospital so often.” Not wanting to embarrass him, she replied with, “I’m so glad you thought me so young, but I have finished college, taking a master's degree, and have been working for four years. I would tell everyone from the time I was a little girl that when I grew up, I would be a doctor.” Lynn succeeded in getting both the dream job and the dream guy.

My cousin went to a college that seated students alphabetically in class. She sat next to a young guy, whose last name also began with a B. They started to date, and when she broke her ankle he would pick her up at home each day, carry her down the front steps, and drive her to school. My uncle, who was very old fashioned, proclaimed, “That’s the man she should marry!” She had never dated anyone else because she had gone to an all-girls Catholic high school. At the end of her senior year of college, the twosome broke up. Each seemed to have their career in mind and wanted to focus on that. The summer after graduation, they met on the beach one day, and he told her that the following spring he was getting married. She was very happy for him, as he had not taken their breakup very well. The very next summer, they ran into each other again on the same beach. She commented that, by now, he must be an old married man. He explained that the wedding had never taken place because he went to the girl’s mother and told her he could not go through with it because he was still in love with his old girlfriend. When my cousin asked who that was, he said, “You.” Again, history ran its course.

My friend, Ann, went out with some gals one evening to a local bar. She poked her friend and said, “See that guy standing at the end of the bar? I’m going to marry him one day.” She never returned to the bar again and basically forgot that evening. Ann lived at home with her family, and her mother often told her of this kind young man who lived in the neighborhood. Whenever he saw her come home with groceries, he insisted on carrying them into the house for her. After many such helpful times and the nice chats that ensued, she invited the young man to dinner. Ann just rolled her eyes when her mom told her what she had done, but she immediately changed her tune when the young man from the bar walked in. Yes, they married, and have been together over 56 years.

My last little story is the craziest of all. I met a woman who had recently lost her husband, and I expressed my condolences. Although I had never met him, she talked so endearingly about her dear one that I had to ask how they had met. She said, “We met on the interstate.” “Don’t you mean you met on the Internet?” “No,” she corrected me, “We met on the interstate.” She was in her early 30s, living in Virginia, when she had to attend a wedding in Vermont. At the end of that special weekend, she started back home. She took Route 95 South. As she was driving, a young man passed her. It wasn’t long before she passed him. And this went on back-and-forth. She got off to get gas, and he pulled in behind her. He asked if this was a public enough restaurant for her to join him for lunch. He then followed her to her exit and waved as she exited. The next day, he called for a date and, although he lived an hour away, came often until they were engaged, and finally married. They had many happy years together.

From these stories, I have come to believe that some things are just ordained; ordained by a higher being.