For Better! for Worse! Forever!: Twenty True Stories of Fifty-Year Love Affairs

By Ann Weed Cushing

Every happily married couple has a love story to share. In a world where divorce is a frequent option, here are twenty marriages which have stood the test of time. Ach couple has been married one man to one woman for as long as they have lived. For most the marriage has been for at least fifty years.

At least one of the two in each married couple was a student at Carson-Newman College in Jefferson City, Tennessee, in the early fifties. Here each of the twenty couples share in their own words their love story.

As you read the love stories, you discover common threads that run through each story, the qualities that create for these enduring forever love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 10, 2009
• ISBN: 9781469105499

Ann Weed Cushing

Ann Weed Cushing is a graduate of Carson-Newman College in Jefferson City, Tennessee, and has been married to Harrell Cushing for over fifty years. As a minister’s wife, Ann has led conferences and retreats for women in the U.S. and in several foreign countries and with her husband has led marriage enrichment retreats for couples. For over fifteen years Ann has taught English as a Second Language to internationals in the U.S., Hong Kong, and Japan. With her husband Ann has traveled in more than fifty countries literally around the world. The Cushings are the parents of three daughters: Connie Cushing, Jama Webb (Mrs. Steve) and Charlotte Cearley (Mrs. Tim). They have three grandsons and three granddaughters. Currently the Cushings reside in Montgomery, Alabama.

Book preview

For Better!

For Worse!

Forever!

TWENTY TRUE STORIES

OF

FIFTY-YEAR LOVE AFFAIRS

Compiled by

Ann Weed Cushing

Copyright © 2009 by Ann Weed Cushing.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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52807

Contents

Preface

Introduction to Love Stories

Marian Mason and Forrest Bibb, Jr.

Barbara Collier and Harley Brooks

Charlotte Hicks and Ralph Brunson

Lois Jean Blanchard and A. G. Bullard

Theta Overton and Wert Campbell

Ann Weed and Harrell Cushing

Shirley Ledford and Ligon Duncan

Freddie Tumlin and John Ford

Barbara Compton and Charley Goodgame

Della Jo Galyon and Audley Hamrick

Hilna Waters and Dolian Daniel Long

Dorothy Rogers and Wayne Flub Maddox

Mattie Carroll and Kelver Mullins

Anna Joyce Burgin and Tommy Northern

Willodene Gentry and Bob Peek

Jama Rubin and Leon Seahorn

Micki Sommerkamp and Tony Stella

Betsy Watkins and Lamar Tribble

Nancy Sewell and Ralph Voris

Olive Belle Murrell and John Paul Young

Conclusion

Endnotes

Thanks to Freddie Tumlin Ford for first suggesting the title

FOR BETTER! FOR WORSE! FOREVER!

Dedication

To the love of my life, my husband of more than fifty years, Harrell Cushing

To our children—Connie Cushing; Jama and Steve Webb; and Charlotte and Tim Cearley—that they will have loves that last a lifetime.

To our six grandchildren with the prayer that they will find the one with whom they will build a home for better, for worse, forever!

And with gratitude to the nineteen couples, friends for over fifty years, who have shared their wonderful love stories with you and with me.

To God be the glory!

Preface

Every married couple has a story to tell. The stories that follow are written by each couple themselves. Sometimes he wrote; sometimes she. Usually both shared into writing.

Hence, some stories are shared in the first person and some in the third; some have a combination.

Each of us shares our stories with the desire that you will know the joy of one man with one woman for a lifetime of love for each other and devotion to our Lord who makes such a marriage possible.

These are stories of marriages that have lasted thirty, forty, and over fifty years. Each of these couples included the Lord in their courtship as well as in their marriage. Their years together have not been perfect, but through all of their experiences, each couple has trusted the Lord; and He has guided them through difficulties, illnesses, tragedies, joys, and deep happiness as they have walked down the long road of marriage together.

Bobby Bowden, legendary coach of Florida State University, speaking in convocation at his alma mater Samford University in 2000, said this:

I have already made the journey you are about to make so I can look back and see what is ahead for you. Many pathways will open up before you, all leading toward that one great mountain you will spend a lifetime climbing. Some of those pathways are dead ends. Others lead to unexpected forks in the road, And a few are downright dangerous. Alluring voices will call you in one direction. The voice of conscience will call you elsewhere.

I know those roads. I have heard those voices.

Now let me tell you what I have learned along the way.¹

This book is written by those who have heard all kinds of voices, but each couple has chosen the high road, and that has made all the difference.

Introduction to Love Stories

The generation who shares these love stories with you grew up during World War II and the years which just preceded and those which followed that tremendous conflict. Our parents had survived the Great Depression, and consequently, most of us knew how it was to work hard and to do without what we could not afford. Few of us would have been considered wealthy. However, we are rich in memories, friendships, and blessings from God Himself.

Some of us can remember, during the war days, the rationing and the careful conservation of gas and oil and tires. There was often the scarcity of goods. Shoes were not always plentiful or the money with which to buy them. We were patriotic and listened with respect to our President Roosevelt’s fireside chats on the radio as we gathered with our families.

World War II ended in 1946, and we began to arrive at Carson-Newman College. Most of us who share our stories came in the fall of 1948. Fresh on our minds were friends and family who had lost their lives for our freedom. We came with an awareness of how fragile life could be.

We came from north and south and east and west. Some traveled by train or bus or perhaps by car driven by parents. Few of the men owned autos, and none of the girls were allowed to have vehicles. Some of the preacher boys owned cars, but they were few and far between. Girls were not allowed to ride in cars without special permission. We arrived in the small East Tennessee town of Jefferson City, beautifully situated in the Smoky Mountains between Asheville and Knoxville.

Most of us came to stay for four years at C-N. These were years of growing spiritually as well as academically. Our dreams were big, and our goals were high, and life was rich and full. Most of us lived simply and frugally. A movie was a very rare indulgence. Eating out was a super treat. Even a hamburger was special. A prayer date cost nothing at all. An occasional venture to Gatlinburg or Knoxville was a treat.

On long Sunday afternoons, we listened to the radio and heard big-band music of Sammy Kaye and his orchestra. His music was interspersed with romantic love poems. We dreamed big dreams and set high standards for the man, the woman, with whom we would someday share our lives.

Our dates were often dinner dates in the cafeteria or prayer dates or special times of worship on the steps of the ad building at sunset for vespers. Noonday prayer meeting was a regular for many of us. The music was glorious. The messages were from students and were very inspirational.

A few early birds attended morning watch. Many in this group were members of the beloved a cappella choir. Most of us had little money to spend; but our days were full, our studies meaningful, and our friendships lasting.

As graduation approached, love was in the air. Spring brought sparkles on the left hands of many. Such an announcement brought on a cold surprise shower for the bride-to-be by friends who wanted to celebrate the occasion. Weddings were planned soon after graduation. The proverbial knot was tied for better, for worse, ’til death do us part.

So here are our stories. At least one of each couple is an alumnus of Carson-Newman College. Most are graduates, and each has a marriage which has lasted a lifetime or over fifty years. We hope, as you read our stories, you will find principles of a lasting marriage. There are many common characteristics. We hope those of you who are older will look back and remember your good times and the joys you have shared. For those of you who are our children and our grandchildren, we hope you will read our stories and be inspired and convinced that God’s ideal is the best—one man for one woman for a lifetime.

We are ordinary men and women with extraordinary marriages. None of us would say our marriage has been perfect. We are imperfect people! However, many could echo this phrase: My husband, or my wife, has made all my dreams come true!

These are our love stories. They are written with grateful hearts for the blessings of God which have been ours. What a wonderful experience it has been to share these special thoughts and experiences of college friends whose friendship spans fifty years. My role has simply been to be a vehicle for compiling these stories so they can be shared with our children, our extended family, our friends, and those who will read these love stories.

Jesus said these words in Matthew 7:24-25:

Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock: And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock. (The Bible, King James Version)

These twenty couples built their homes upon the rock, the Lord Himself; and when trials came, as inevitably they do in every marriage, the homes stood firm. We share our stories with joy.

Ann Weed Cushing

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Marian Mason and Forrest Bibb, Jr.

I was fifteen years old the very first time I laid eyes on Robert Forrest Bibb, Jr. It was at Springfield Baptist Church in Springfield, Tennessee, one Sunday evening while the youth were getting ready to occupy the choir loft for the evening service. I could not stop looking at him, for I thought he was the most handsome fellow I had ever seen. We made eye contact, and he started to turn so red in the face I thought he would burst into flames! I remember thinking he must be extremely shy. I found out later that I was right about that.

Bettye Brandon Burr might have been my cousin, although distant; but she was indeed my friend, even though we lived in different places. She lived in Springfield, Tennessee, and I was living with my family in East Tennessee and West Tennessee. However, we would visit each other during the summer. Since my grandparents lived in Springfield, I would always fit in a few days’ visit with Bettye whenever we came to visit family, and she visited me. She was a year ahead of me in school, for she was born the first month of 1931 and I was born the last month. I was visiting her that Sunday evening in the summer of 1947. I had finished my sophomore year at Central High School, Savannah, Tennessee.

Following my junior year in high school, strangely enough, my minister father accepted the call from Grace Baptist Church in Springfield; and our family moved back to the place of our birth. As a sixteen-year-old getting ready to finish high school, I was overwhelmed; but fortunately, I already knew a few who would be my classmates. Some of them were related to me but were almost strangers. My family made this move in June of 1948. My brother had graduated from Carson-Newman College the month before and planned to be married that same summer.

My first cousin had married one of Forrest’s good friends. He had been the best man in their wedding earlier that spring. My cousin, Nelle, had probably told Forrest that I thought he was one fine-looking man. One day Forrest called me to ask if I would double-date with him and one of his friends. He and his friend would pick me up, and we would go to Goodlettsville to pick up the other girl and go on to Nashville to see a movie. I was thrilled!

There was a problem, however, because my father did not think it would be proper for a sixteen-year-old girl to ride with two guys that distance, even though he knew these were nice boys, having known their families for a long time. I was crushed to have to call Forrest and tell him that I could not go. I just knew he would never ask me out again.

He did not call again until December. By then I had dated some of my classmates and some of the young men in our church, but I kept remembering how my chances of ever getting to know Forrest Bibb were ruined. I mentioned this to my mother one day, and she told me Forrest’s parents had visited us when I was born. They arrived with food and gifts, as was the neighborly thing to do in those days. Mother thought of the Bibb family as being the salt of the earth kind of people. In the meantime, I set about learning all I could about Forrest.

I already knew he had graduated from Springfield High School in 1947. He chose to forego college because all he wanted to do was farm. His mother had bought the farm where they lived when Forrest was fourteen because she knew of his love of that occupation. His father was not a farmer, but his mother had come from a long line of people who worked the land. Her father had a law degree, but his first love was the land. I learned that Forrest did not seem to know he was good-looking, and he did not want anyone to know how intelligent he was. He had been an excellent student; but his love of the outdoors, nature, plant and animal life, and anything associated with agriculture lured him to stay close to home and pursue his dream. Making money was not high on his list of priorities. He enjoyed hard work and could fix anything that was broken.

On December 4, 1948, we had our first date. We went to a basketball game between Springfield High and one of the other high schools in Robertson County. He was driving his family’s new ’49 Ford. I was giddy with excitement. On the way home, I asked him why he had asked me out. He thought for a few minutes and quoted the words to an old blues tune that said, It takes a long, tall, dark-skinned gal to make the preacher lay his Bible down. After another long pause, he said, It takes just the opposite for me! For the first time in my life, I was glad to be only five feet tall!

From the time I was in my early teens, I had experienced crushes on boys my age or thereabout. I had enjoyed being with a group of young people and usually had a current boyfriend, although we did not spend much time with each other and rarely alone. The way I felt about Forrest was a new emotion, and I kept thinking it was too good to be true. He was the still-waters-run-deep type, so if opposites attract, we fit that category. I was gregarious while he was reserved and did not have a lot to say. Eventually he began to open up, and he let me see rare glimpses of his real self, an enigma of simplicity amid complexities. The next fifty-eight years I tried to figure him out, but I was never fully successful.

After graduation from high school, it was a given that I would be going on to college while he stayed on the farm. We decided we would be free to date others while I was away. We corresponded, and he wrote wonderful letters to me, so carefully constructed with no mistakes in spelling or punctuation.

I had one all-consuming fear. I did not think I was worthy to have someone in my life as wonderful as Forrest Bibb, Jr. He quietly lived his Christian faith and demonstrated all the qualities any girl could possibly want in a future mate. My parents and my brother let me know they approved of him as a trustworthy person of great integrity.

It was my decision to leave college after only two years. I wanted to work for a year before I got married. Forrest gave me a ring the summer of 1951. We were married on a very hot Wednesday afternoon in June of 1952. He worked until noon that day combining wheat. When he came in to get into his wedding clothes, he discovered the pants was not altered correctly. He and the best man had bought their pants to match, and both were altered to fit the best man. He was several inches taller than Forrest. Forrest borrowed suspenders from his father and pulled the pants up under his arms. To my knowledge, he never wore them again.

We went all the way to Colorado Springs for our wedding trip. He wanted me to see the world from the top of Pike’s Peak because he had been there and loved the view. We had a 1951 Ford Victoria and took turns driving. While Forrest was asleep, I looked down at the speedometer, and it told me we were traveling at a speed of one hundred miles per hour. The road was so straight with very little traffic on the Kansas prairie that it did not seem possible I was driving that fast.

After four years of being in love, we were ready to settle down although I look back and think how young and naive we were. Even though we hardly had two nickels to our name, we were anxious to start a family. I prayed the prayer of Hannah and asked God to give me a son; and I, in turn, would give my son back to God. My thought was that he would be a minister like his grandfather. Our first born, David Mason, only lived seventeen years. He was the innocent victim of a drunk driver. That was an extremely sad time for our family. Forrest was a tower of strength during those dark days.

Forrest’s mother gave us three acres of land on the edge of the farm, and we built our house and moved in May of 1955. We were expecting our second child. My father and Forrest did much of the work themselves. Although my father was a minister, he studied architecture and was a skilled carpenter.

Carol Elise was born in October of 1955, and Robert Thomas made his appearance in June of 1957. Our family was complete in early 1962 with the birth of Martha Dale. Having no sisters of my own, I named her after Forrest’s beautiful sister who had died the year before at the age of twenty-six and my brother’s wife. I could not have asked for more wonderful sisters-in-law than Martha Bibb Maxwell and Dale Witherington Mason.

In 1965 we added more rooms to our house, and Daddy took on the project again. Forrest and I never made a house payment in our lives. It was a standing joke that Daddy could build a house and a wheelbarrow could hold the scraps left behind. He put new meaning to the word frugal, and we have reaped the benefits of his wise use of resources.

Instead of David going to college the fall of 1971, I returned to college and finished my degree in 1973. I received my diploma in absentia because that same night Carol graduated from high school. Forrest encouraged me every step of that journey while I juggled household duties, motherhood, and serving as the director of Music in a couple of churches in our county. Forrest served as a deacon in both of these churches. At one time he served as director of Training Union. That was a big step for him because he did not like to be up in front of people, but he did a good job. He also sang in the choir in that church.

One Sunday morning, he spotted a mouse darting back and forth between the pews and the pulpit platform. I was sitting on the front pew, Forrest whispered to his buddy beside him in the choir, If that mouse heads toward Marian, church is over! Sure enough, it happened. I stuck my feet straight out and started kicking air. Forrest lost his composure completely! When I looked up in the choir, his face was as red as could be, and it was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud. After church, several people wanted to know what was so funny that even Mr. Bibb just lost it! It was totally out of character for him!

When I got fat and forty, I decided it was time to find a church home and become a choir member instead of a choir leader. In 1972 we went back to Forrest’s home church, Springfield Baptist, and our family joined there. In the next thirty-five years, Forrest served on numerous committees and as an active deacon. The job he enjoyed most was standing at the door under the canopy, greeting people and opening the door for them. He watched a generation of children grow up while he stood there Sunday after Sunday. I could not help but think how far that shy young man had come since first I met him, for when we first married, I could not have pictured him being that comfortable meeting people and escorting strangers to the Sunday School class he knew in which they belonged.

I had begun teaching school before Martha Dale was born. I did not teach again until she was in the second grade. After the loss of David, I began to make quilts. This was very good therapy for me. Finishing my degree and teaching for the next twenty years was the completion of the dream I had as a child to be a teacher. I retired from teaching in 1994.

Bob, our son, and Kimberly Brooks were married the summer of 1979. He had finished his degree in agriculture from the University of Tennessee at Knoxville, and Kim was working on her degree in pharmacy at UT in Memphis. They moved into the main house on this farm where Forrest’s parents had lived. The weekend of their wedding, Carol became engaged to Benjamin King Jamison. They had met in Memphis where he was studying to be a dentist at UT while Carol was pursuing her master’s degree in piano performance at what is now the University of Memphis.

Two years later, Martha Dale married Kirk Williams while they were still students at Middle Tennessee State University in Murfreesboro. Following their graduation, they moved into our home and lived with us for two years. We gave them five acres across the highway where they still live with their three children. Kirk is an educator and a football coach. Martha Dale is an accountant.

In 1988 Forrest was diagnosed with emphysema. In 1998 he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. He became oxygen dependent in 2000, and by 2002 he was no longer able to engage in the outdoor activities he enjoyed so much. October 2002 was the last time he was able to go to church. I knew how much he wanted to go, but I went ahead without him.

He had a Hoveround power chair, and most days he and his dog were content to sit in the recliner. He became a baseball fan. As always, he was stoic and uncomplaining and an absolute joy to be with. Our relationship evolved into becoming best friends. He was able to take care of his personal needs. By this time, we had four grandsons and four granddaughters. In August 2002, we had our first great-grand. He loved them all dearly, and they loved their Pop.

He did not like doctors’ appointments, the constant breathing treatments, inhalers, radiation treatments, and hormone therapy that went with his illnesses. In March, the prostate cancer worsened, and the urologist suggested