My parents met at Northwestern University while doing their graduate work.

 Mom was working toward a PhD in Inorganic Chemistry and Dad was going for his PhD in Organic Chemistry. Between them, they had the Periodic Table covered.

Here they are, right after their civil ceremony. They found a magistrate in NJ who married them in his living room on Thanksgiving Day, 1956.

As happy as they appear, they knew their marriage meant both of them would be “disowned” by their families.

Mom came from a staunchly Lutheran family that emigrated from Czechoslovakia and homesteaded a farm/ranch in Nebraska. Her parents didn’t even think she should go to college. In spite of that, she was determined to get an education.

She worked as a seamstress to pay her way through college and graduate school. Her first choice was medical school and she was among the first women to be accepted. Unfortunately, it turned out to be too expensive and she had to find another path - she chose chemistry.

She was accepted into graduate studies at Northwestern University. There were 13 men in the PhD program and 1 woman, her. As she put it recently, to my shock, Dad was her “pick” because he was cute, played tennis pretty well AND he had two checks coming in - quite a catch among their relatively humble fellow scholars.

Dad came from an Orthodox Jewish family that settled in Milwaukee after emigrating from Poland (Dad was 1st generation American in both sides). Dad’s family wanted him to get an education, but his father ran a Hebrew print shop in Milwaukee and couldn’t afford to help Dad pay for college.

At 16, Dad joined the Navy and served in WWII. The GI Bill helped Dad get his college education and begin his graduate program.

He was almost done with his thesis when the Korean War started. Dad had top secret clearance (from his WWII service as a printer’s mate where he printed orders for some of the North Atlantic Fleet). Anyway, they called him back up and, when he was done, he had another government check to pay for finishing graduate school.Since Dad’s studies were put on hold, Mom finished first (only by a few months). She still ribs him from time to time about that, but they were both done in 1956 (Mom being 1 of only 4 women in the US to receive that degree that year). Esso recruited them and they were to start work after graduation.

When they announced they were getting married, neither of the patriarchs was AT ALL pleased - “You’re marrying a WHAT?”

Rather than be proud of her amazing accomplishments (for a woman of that era), her father declared all family ties would cease if she married a Jew.

Dad’s father was exactly the same. Instead of admiring his youngest son who served the US in two wars, paid for his own education, and achieved the highest degree in his field, he said something like “Marry that Lutheran girl and you’re no longer a member of this family.”

They loved each other enough to defy their families. They got married, spent the holiday weekend honeymooning in Washington DC and went back to work on Monday.

6 years later, when my brother was born, I think they hoped the families might relent, but when they sent the news, there was no response. Same thing happened 18 months later when I came along.I know lots of people are discriminated against for marrying outside their faith and it’s horrible. But Mom and Dad were not kids who eloped on a whim - they were in their mid-late 20’s, well-educated, employed, and Mom went so far as to learn Judaism and bring her children up as Jews.

It made no difference, Dad’s family followed the NO CONTACT rule put in place by his father. That drove a further wedge between Mom and her family.

So, silence ensued until both those terribly stubborn men were dead and, only then, did the grandmothers decide “enough is enough.” I finally got to meet my hilarious, vodka-drinking Jewish grandma, as well as my tiny, quiet Lutheran grandma and go to Nebraska to visit the extended family and spend time at the homestead.

I think when Mom and Dad are gone (hopefully not for years yet), I’m going to find my grandfather’s grave sites. I’ll visit them after drinking a great deal of something potent and then relieve myself on their sorry heads for causing my parents years of grief (they hid it well, but I can’t imagine it was easy).

First, however, I’ll explain that, in spite of their horrendous parenting skills, their children could not have been more supportive, accepting, and loving parents. This Thanksgiving will be their 63rd wedding anniversary - they’re 88 and 91 and still going strong!