I met my “one true love,” Herman Smith, my husband of 65 years, in August of 1941 at the White Way Café in Beebe, Arkansas. The café was a “student hangout” where I worked. (I had just graduated from high school a few months earlier.) Herman had come in with a date, and he was a handsome fellow, all dressed up wearing a tie and a hat. But rather than paying attention to his date, Herman flirted with me the whole time! Of course, I told him he was very rude, and he left with her. But soon he returned (alone) and asked the owner of the café my name.

Upon learning it, Herman said to me, “My name is Smith, too.” To discourage him I replied, “I’m surprised it isn’t Jones..” Herman wanted to drive me home after work, but I refused. Then he asked how he could get in touch with me. I just planned to ignore this rude young man, but some ”smart aleck” customer overheard him and said, ”Just send it to Beebe!” Well, that did it. Beebe is a small town, and Herman’s letters (he wrote me every day for two weeks) had no trouble reaching their destination.

Soon afterward, there was a high school all star football game I wanted to go to in Little Rock. But the boy I was dating wouldn’t take me. “Too far and too expensive,” he said. So I decided to take a chance on my ”new friend.” I called Herman and said I would go out with him. The following Friday night we went to the game, and fell in love on that first date!

We married one year later, and have been together for 65 years, with two sons and one grandchild.

So that first date at the ball game, I knew it was “true love.” I’m so glad Herman wrote me all those letters, and didn’t give up when I tried to ignore him. And I’m especially glad my other boyfriend was too cheap to take me to Little Rock! It changed my life, and my one “truelove” and I have been together ever since.