My dad’s parents met when my grandfather helped a young woman up, who had fallen while roller-skating. His name was Bill. Her name was Jeanne. I never knew if she skated regularly or if this was a truly chance encounter. The helping hand lead to iced cream or sodas and a whirlwind romance. They were married by the justice of the peace while he was a weekend pass. Not long after that he shipped out. Not long after that my father was born. My grandfather remained stationed in Europe until late 1947.
My dad would not meet his dad until he was almost three, not an uncommon occurrence in those days. But one that left a strange mark on their relationship. Life for a single mother, war bride was not always easy. She ended up moving across country to live with his relatives, who she did not know before she got there.