During his third year of engineering studies he made a fortuitous visit to the School of Architecture. He was awakened to the idea that this discipline was for him. He was very excited at the thought of designing and constructing beautiful buildings.

The following year he began his architectural studies. He enjoyed most of the program but two classes were difficult for him and he failed them. Analyzing works and the writing required for the course, History of Architecture, was beyond him that year. He had problems with his Structural Engineering class too. Thus he had to become a part time student and repeat those classes the next academic year. He aced both classes the next year while working during the term as well. In retrospect, I think he felt lost and depressed during that period. Of course he never said that.

Mart also began questioning his feelings for me and wanted to date other women at the beginning of this part time year. I was devastated. I did not in the least expect this. I was sure I was destined to be an “old maid” now. After all I was 22 years old!

So we both began dating others. I was less enthusiastic about it than he was, for sure. Mart still asked me to go on dates, his mother still invited me for dinner. It was weird and painful.

The upcoming year would be a year filled with changes, me moving away then coming back, Mart’s parents moved to New Orleans, so he moved to a shared apartment with some of his classmates. He was 23 years old and on his own for the first time.

It was a team effort but he did most of the heavy lifting. It was hard. He was determined and dedicated to getting through it.

He wanted to be a mechanical or structural engineer, in the beginning. He had the guidance and support of his parents and me. His father kept his thumb on him to practice calculus most nights of the week, during the academic year, both in high school and university. His mother helped him to write papers. I helped too, but that was after he had failed Introductory English twice. Mart gave up the sports he was good at and participated in, during his youth, when he began his university studies.

While it wasn’t easy academically for Mart, in his early university years, he carried the same kind of popularity he had in high school. That was easy, everybody loved him, especially the girls! Count me in!

As a result of the academic challenges, I mostly saw him one night a week during the time he was in university.

Mart failed a year of high school. From my perspective that was a lucky one. Maybe from his perspective too. It’s quite likely we would never have met since I was attending the school for the first time and it was during his last year of high school.

Summers were better for us. Come to think of it there were parts of two summers when he was away working in Sherbrooke Village doing the work to prepare for measured drawings of the historic buildings that were to be restored. I didn’t mind too much. I got some extra reading in.

We spent time in Sherbrooke Village on our honeymoon. Getting to the honeymoon was fraught with some troubles though. We broke up for about a year, I moved away, and he had another bad year of university.

Wooing lasted a long time, while it had some bumps and warts, it was mostly smooth, until it wasn’t.

After we both broke off our other relationships, we had our first date on a Sunday evening in February, 1961. I don’t think we held hands as it took place in Christ Church, Dartmouth. Mart came to pick me up and we walked there together. We married here June 17, 1967. I wish I had kept a photo from that day.

We dated exclusively for a few months but all of a sudden he started dating his old girlfriend. Didn’t tell me he was going to do that. He had a soft spot for red hair. She had red hair, I did not. She had a light blue dress on, too. His favourite.

He told me that she began calling him when I left in 1984.

In any event, he dated her again for a month or so and I began dating another. Out of the blue, he invited me to his graduation party. We were then boyfriend and girlfriend, for the next four years, exclusively. We were in love and known for that among our many friends and family. We were gonna get married someday. I was mostly over the moon during those years.

Well he almost slipped up during debutant season, after we had been dating a year or two. He was invited to the ball and other events in Halifax, but he turned her down. His father apparently suggested it would be good experience for him!

I came to Mart with lots of baggage. My father was an alcoholic, a nasty alcoholic, who abused his wife and children verbally and physically.

Our mother suffered a mental breakdown in her early forties, was hospitalized a few times and suffered shock treatment during those times. She was often heavily medicated. She loved her kids unconditionally. That helped.

I did not suffer as much as my siblings because throughout much of my pre-school years my father was away at sea during WW II. I was the oldest, working, and was able to get away from most of his abuse when he retired from the navy at age 42. My siblings and mother could not.

No doubt, I grew up too soon and developed an attachment disorder. I became quite self sufficient and independent early on. Too early. Oh yeah, and depression was with me off and on. Nobody much knew that. Not even Martin, I do believe.

Also, occasionally, I suffered anxiety that could bring on some OCD behaviour likely driven by a desire to be a perfect me.

Mart wrote a two page note to me, as we were talking about our break-up. He got upset with me because I made a joke about a guy in one of those oversized trucks with five foot diameter tires, whom neither of us knew. He wrote this about himself and his reaction.

I have never considered that. This letter shows some of those characteristics.

Obviously, he is sad, insecure, and angry. I had determined I did not want to live with this kind of anger any longer. It was unwarranted. He had not always been so insecure about me. In fact, it was quite the opposite, for many years.

That I was leaving was baked in, in my mind. My reaction to this note was he was just being controlling again. Empathy was not on my mind.

Martin before we met.

Cute chubby baby. He grew into a heart throb, over the years.

Three years before we met. He was beginning to look like the Mart I came to know and love.

August 1960

I met Mart, for the first time, in a packed stairwell in Dartmouth High, shortly after this photo was taken. It was the fall of 1960, he was 18, I was 17. Someone pushed me into his chest, he caught me in his arms. I was in love. But I had a boyfriend and he had a girlfriend. We spent some months becoming acquainted before we made the breaks with our “others” and we began dating in February, 1961. Wow! 63 years ago and it is still very fresh in my mind.