by Bettie Miller
s en io r s A
Story
There it was- — wedged between boxes on the storage shelves. I hadn’t looked at it for many years so it was with some trepidation that I pulled it out. The scrapbook had survived several major moves since 1948 and it was in delicate condition. The paper pages were deteriorating but when I opened it to the first page I was swept back 60 years to a more innocent time. The year was 1947 and I had taken a summer job with a stained glass studio in Chicago. The first person I met was a young artist who was also recently employed there. His name was Charles and he was very handsome. The mutual attraction was undeniable. He had been discharged from the army two years before and had attended the Chicago Academy of Arts. Days became weeks and we saw each other before and after work and sometimes at lunchtime Finally he asked me out! I turned to another page — a postcard from the Edgewater Hotel. Our first date was at the outdoor ballroom with a popular band and dancing under the stars. It was obvious that he was anxious to have a career in art, as was I. Our backgrounds were somewhat similar in the fact that we were both from the northwest side of Chicago and had grown up through the depression. I had gone to parochial schools for fourteen years. I wondered if this would be a problem. My faith was important to me and I hoped to share it with someone I loved. Faith is a gift, would Charles accept it? I didn’t have to wait long to find out. I accompanied Charles on a ride to Milwaukee to look over a church in need of refurbishing. It was exciting to ride along the beautiful North Shore of Lake Michigan to Milwaukee. The church we went to see was a very old Catholic Church and the windows had been done at our studio and they were breathtaking. He looked over the entire structure and made notes while I just prayed that our relationship would develop into something permanent. He seemed to know just the right places to go and we stopped for lunch at the famous Mader’s restaurant. After a delicious lunch we headed back to downtown Chicago. On the ride back he confided to me that he was very impressed with the beautiful churches he had worked in and really wanted to know more about the Catholic church. I was silently thrilled. I offered to fill him in. At this time he asked me to call him Chuck. Bettie Miller with her husband, Charles
“Armed with faith, hope and love we began a journey that would last 55 years”
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SUMMER 2011 | her voice
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4/14/11 10:02 AM