Louisville Magazine is Louisville's city magazine, covering Louisville people, lifestyles, politics, sports, restaurants, entertainment and homes. Includes a monthly calendar of events.
Issue link: https://loumag.epubxp.com/i/453014
10 LOUISVILLE MAGAZINE 2.15 Inter-office MEMO Illustration by Kendall Regan My dad was a police offcer and pulled my mom over for speeding. He told her that he wouldn't give her a ticket if she went out with him. Heather Dougherty Business manager My parents met at a bar in Cincinnati, on a double date with their then signifcant others. Lynn Hafele Events and marketing Greta Reams and Winston Bacon met at a bus stop when they were 11. Wesley Bacon Contributing writer My dad was enrolling in classes at a seminary in Memphis, Tennessee, when, across the room, he saw a little bleach blonde in a red dress. She left before he could talk to her. Fast-forward about a year. My dad is sitting in the balcony of a megachurch in Memphis. He looks down, sees that little blonde on the main foor, and sprints downstairs to introduce himself, even though she's with another guy. She shakes his hand and moves on, but remembers him. A few months later, someone tells my dad, randomly, "I've found the girl you should marry," and he responds, without missing a beat, "It's Carol Galyen, isn't it?" It is. And now, 26 years of marriage later, they have six daughters together. Elizabeth Myers Editor, Louisville.com My dad was good friends with my Uncle Buck. (Yes, I really have an Uncle Buck.) They were working in Buck's garage on a beat-up car they would wreck for fun. Buck's younger sister was inside the house, and the phone rang for my dad. She yelled out to the garage while hurling a rotten banana down the stairs. (My grandmother kept half-eaten baggies of food in the fridge; the Depression had that effect on her.) Afraid of her temper, my father went around front and rang the doorbell. He asked politely to use the phone. Next thing you know, they were going to prom together. They have been happily married for 46 years this month. Suki Anderson Art director Bill Doolittle Sr. and Muriel White met at Indiana University, both playing in the IU symphony. Mu- riel's parents, Dr. J.H. White and Estelle Odle, also met as undergrads at IU. Naturally, I am very cautious during visits to Bloomington. Bill Doolittle Contributing writer A shy, handsome med student from southern Illinois spots a Sicilian knockout in a New York City library. The petite, raven-haired beauty (who could double for Sophia Loren) falls for this simple, mustached farm kid. A Manhattan connection. So much in common, these two! Like a love for opera and...cannoli. So they marry in six months' time. A whirlwind love affair. Three brunette daughters later, they move to sunny Los Angeles. They love their girls. They still love opera. And can- noli. And, um.... OK, this love story ends after 12 years with one epic divorce. Pavarotti and ricotta flling are weak relationship adhesives. Anne Marshall Senior writer At the sperm bank. Arielle Christian Associate editor My parents met in 1946, shortly after my dad returned from WWII. Both of my grandfathers worked in the circulation department at the Courier-Journal, and their families were acquainted. Everyone was invited to a summer weekend gath- ering at General Butler State Park in Carrollton, Kentucky. Story goes that my dad walked into the cabin, saw my mom standing there in her swimsuit, and fell for her right then. Gail Kamenish Photographer My mom was a waitress in Dayton, Ohio, at Smuggler's Inn, where my dad was a DJ. I like to think they fell in love the frst time she heard him spin "You Dropped a Bomb on Me" by the Gap Band. Josh Moss Editor My parents met in alternative school when they were 14. My mom was there for her poor attendance, and my dad was there for beating up some guy outside Razzles, the local gas station in Mount Vernon, Illinois. My aunt was there for the same attendance issue, and she insisted to Mom: "If you don't date him, I will." Every time I hear the story, it ends with Mom saying, "If you think I screwed you up, could you imagine having your aunt for a mom?!" Jaren Cooley Editorial intern They both worked in the same build- ing for Seven Counties Services. She had seen his name on the employee roster and thought: Chellis Austin. What a strange name. It wasn't until they worked a health fair at Valley High School that she, having lugged in boxes of posters and pamphlets, noticed his minimalist approach to a booth — a sign with a hand-drawn smiley face: "Crisis and information center. Ask me anything." Mary Chellis Austin Deputy editor At a drive-up soda shop in Tampa, Florida, in the late '50s. He was 19 and in the Air Force; she was a server at the soda shop. Chris Witzke Photographer My parents aren't together. They met at a roller-skating rink. Mickie Winters Photographer My dad was an Italian-American from Pittsburgh living his Army years at Fort Knox. My mom was an Eastern Air Lines fight attendant living in her hometown of Louisville. His weekend pass took him to Whispering Hills, the dance hall where the frst sight of my mom foored him. He asked her to dance, and for the next 42 years they never looked back, until her untimely passing 10 years ago. They say you don't meet your great love at the club, but my folks' frst dance formed a legacy of love and family that will last far beyond my lifetime. Ted Tarquinio Photographer After completing a stint in the Navy, my father went into the local high school in Mobile, Alabama, to get some information about the G.I. Bill. My mother, who was 16 (he was 20), worked in the offce after school and waited on him. When she left to go home about an hour later, he was outside waiting by a new car he claimed was his but actually belonged to his sister-in-law. When he offered her a ride home, she explained she was not allowed to get into a car with a stranger. So he pulled out a Good Con- duct Medal. Convinced he was safe, she jumped in. He was the only boy she ever dated, and last August they celebrated 64 years of marriage. Stacey Hallahan Advertising director My mom was just out of college, working for the agency that designed Louisville Magazine — then owned by the Louisville Chamber of Commerce, where my dad was the vice president for economic development. My dad, not quite comfortable with simply asking her out, asked her to do some design work for him, aka his excuse to get to know her better. She asked to be paid for the freelance work with dinner at Cafe Metro. So thanks, Louisville Magazine. I wouldn't exist without you. Andrew Spalding Contributing artist How did your parents meet?