How Did You Meet?

I’ve always been interested in how people met. I have heard the most incredible stories. My grandparents met in New York. My grandmother’s well-to-do family would not have approved of my grandfather’s station in life, but you can’t stop love! In the bustling heart of New York City in 1912, where horse-drawn wagons rattled over cobblestone streets and the energy of commerce filled the air, Grandfather arrived from his homestead in Saskatchewan and took a job. Why he picked New York City is unknown, and the historical account of “the job” he chose was vague; it could have been a laborer or a drayman, but we knew he had planned for this to be just a short stop to make some money and head back to his homestead. Grandmother, who was accustomed to a life of comfort and tradition, was no stranger to curiosity. (Even I remember the mischievous twinkle in her eye). One day, their very different worlds collided, and when their eyes met for the first time, there was an instant spark between them. Despite her parents' reasoning with her to not see him, she was smitten by this handsome young man. The more they tried to talk her out of marriage, the more she wanted to marry this young Canadian. They married in 1913, and Grandpa brought her from a life of luxury and privilege, indoor plumbing, summer houses, and winter houses to a bald ass prairie Saskatchewan homestead to eke out a living as a farmer. She was so excited and thought it would be a great adventure! They had a long life together and many children (who would be my wonderful uncles and aunts). Grandma died in 1959.

A few years passed, and Grandpa became very lonely. Love sometimes travels vast distances, crossing borders and oceans. His dear old heart found its match in Belgium with a lovely lady his own age, Elizabeth (we called her Betty). They had been pen pals for several months, which led to a remarkable chapter in both their lives. Grandpa, retired by this time and living in a small town in Saskatchewan, found comfort and companionship in the words that arrived from across the Atlantic. The Belgian lady, too, looked forward to each envelope stamped from Canada, reading about the changing seasons and the unique quirks of prairie life. Grandpa gathered his courage and proposed marriage to his pen pal, a life-changing request sent across the ocean. To his delight, Betty said yes. They were married in 1963 and seemed to have a remarkable relationship.

My parents’ story began on the polished floorboards of a small-town dance hall in Marwayne. In 1948, such events were the social highlight of rural Alberta life. Among the swirling crowd, a young man stood out: tall and composed, dressed sharply in a navy-blue pin-striped suit that spoke of both confidence and charm. And then he saw her. She moved effortlessly among the dancers, her dark hair catching the light. She had a beautiful smile. As the next song began, he gathered his courage and approached, “Would you care to dance?” She accepted, and together, they moved in step, their laughter blending with the music and the shuffle of other dancers. This was the beginning of a life-long story. The memory of meeting amidst swirling skirts and lively tunes is a classic Canadian prairie romance of that generation. They were married in 1949.

In my generation, some of my friends married high school sweethearts. Some met at dances (similar to my parents’ story) and are still dancing today. Some met at the weddings of their friends, some met in the workplace, some met in the rodeo community, some met at church, one couple met in the courtroom, many met in college, and some met on the job.

The next generation made internet dating popular. Now you don’t have to write letters, you just go online.

Each of these stories is a testament to how love and friendship often arise from a mix of chance and choice. Dances and rodeos may seem worlds apart from online dating platforms and courtrooms, but they share a common thread: people meeting where their lives intersect. Share your stories.