GARY, IN, USA (Gary Post-Tribune), July 27, 2008:
By Jerry Davich, Post-Tribune Metro Columnist
They are a trilogy of love.
Three couples. Three stories. Three stages of love, from an eight-month "going together" milestone to a 65-year wedding anniversary.
Such loving relationships, though, face such cold-hearted statistics: Half of all couples living together today will break up within five years; two thirds of people 18 and older have never given marriage a try; and "I want a divorce" is too often wedded to "I do."
But today I'll introduce you to local lovebirds who fly in the face of such dire stats.
I'll tell you why Jordan Pierce calls Samantha Weaver "the most AMAZING girl EVER," according to his MySpace page, and a bazillion or so text messages they send. They're both 17, they're head over heels in love, and they've been together for all of eight months.
I'll explain how high school sweethearts Joni and Jason Vanderwoude had a fairy-tale life in the works until a cold Sunday morning when a car crash ejected their plans, but not their faith in each other. Today, their once paralyzed relationship serves as a "pitcher perfect" portrait of devotion and dedication.
I'll also shadow Ossie and Audrey as they return 65 years later to their ritzy honeymoon hotel in Chicago after eloping in Gary, and who were charged the same exact amount, $9, because they kept their original receipt. An alarm clock brought them together and they've been sharing the same bedroom ever since.
Like I said, three couples, three stories, and three stages of love that bucked the odds.
A love story, in three acts
Jordan Pierce and Samantha Weaver strolled hand in hand down Hamstrom Road, in no particular hurry, with no particular destination. The two 17-year-old high school sweethearts were "just hanging out."
Remember those puppy-love days? Nothing to do but enjoy each other's company without caring if it's at the beach, at the fair, or even on a shady side street in Portage.
"We just like to be with each other," Jordan told me. "It doesn't matter if we just sit there for hours. It's just the fact that we are together."
Jordan and "Sam" met under God's eyes and their parent's nose at Portage Avenue Baptist Church. They've had smiles on their faces ever since.
"This church just so happens to be the place where I met the most AMAZING girl EVER," Jordan writes on his MySpace page. "She means the world to me. If I didn't know her, my life would be nowhere near as good as it is."
Jordan and Sam are in love. Simple as that. Complex as that. And this past Friday they celebrated an anniversary of sorts: Eight months together as a couple, a true milestone if you're only 17.
"The past 8 months have been the most amazing months of my life," Jordan proudly states on MySpace, the popular way for teens to profess their love for each other.
This past Valentine's Day, Jordan gave Sam a giant teddy bear and delivered flowers to her house. Sam gave Jordan candy, a little toy monkey, and bottles of Mountain Dew. If that's not love...
The teens constantly tell each other "I love you." And they mean it.
So I asked them, what is love? They said it's all about "the other person," making that person happy and treating that person the right way.
I also asked them how long they figure they'll stay together. Nine months? Nine years? Nineteen years?
"We plan on staying together for the rest of our lives," Jordan replied. "We are perfect for each other. We want to be together forever and we hope it will end up that way."
Simple as that. Complex as that. Fade to black on act one.
Act two
Joni and Jason Vander Woude of DeMotte threw out the first pitch of a RailCats game this season and will be celebrating their sixth wedding anniversary in September. (Stephanie Dowell/Post-Tribune)
On Dec. 18, 1999. Jason Vanderwoude got down on one knee at Chicago's Navy Pier.
With a picturesque skyline and sunset behind him, he finally popped the question to his girlfriend of two years: "Joni, will you marry me?" Joni excitedly replied "yes," and the young couple from DeMotte became even more engaged in their love for each other.
They had grand plans - a wedding, a honeymoon, and forever together, just like Jordan and Sam. But God had other plans.
Less than a month later, as Joni drove to church on a cold Sunday morning, her car careened off the road and into a deep irrigation ditch. The crash ejected her from the car and she landed face up in six inches of water, her head resting on a slab of ice.
Joni broke her neck in three places that morning, paralyzing her body from the chest down, including little use of her hands. After being rushed to a hospital, she laid unconscious for two weeks in an induced coma.
During that time, the 19-year-old Jason had big decisions to make: If Joni makes it through, do we still get married? Will we still be in love? Do I love her enough to take care of her until death do us part?
He told himself that if Joni suffered brain damage, "it would throw a big wrench into our sprocket." But if she suffered only physical damage, they "still had hope as a couple."
After five months of surgeries and rehabilitation, Joni returned home, confined to a wheelchair. Still, her brain, emotions, and quick wit returned home intact. They still had hope as a couple.
Three years later, on Sept. 21, 2002, they married, just days after Jason finished building a new home, through donations, that could accommodate Joni's unique needs. If that’s not love...
They've been together ever since "by God's amazing grace," Joni told me this past week at the couple's home.
Jason and Joni, both 28 years old, have since used the tragedy as testimony to young members of the Community Christian Reformed Church. There, they serve as youth group leaders and mentors, coaching soccer, and coordinating activities for high school kids.
"They are our inspirational leaders," said Patty Roodzant, church secretary.
So much so that during a Gary SouthShore RailCats baseball game earlier this month, the couple was chosen to throw out the game's first pitch.
On that Friday night, "Faith Night" at the U.S. Steel Yard, Joni maneuvered her motorized wheelchair to the pitcher's mound, and Jason followed. With 186 of their church members cheering from the stands, Joni gave the baseball to Jason, and he pitched a high hard one to the catcher.
"Teamwork," Jason said.
Teamwork indeed.
Fade to black on act two.
Act three
Ossie, 93, and Audrey Ritz, 92, display their wedding picture from 1943 at their home in Crown Point. (Scott M. Bort/Post-Tribune)
Ossie Ritz walked to the corner of Van Buren and 5th Avenue in Gary, looking for a store that sold alarm clocks. U.S. Steel's newest industrial engineer needed something to wake him for work each morning during the summer of 1942.
He looked to the left, looked to the right, and walked westbound, into Handley's Drugstore. There he found an alarm clock, for $1, and there he found the love of his life working behind a counter, Audrey. He's managed to hang on to both ever since.
Audrey went home that day and told her sister, "I met the most interesting boy."
The two twenty-something lovebirds began courting and a year later, on July 17, 1943, they eloped. For their honeymoon, they took a South Shore train into Chicago and stayed at the Palmer House.
For at least one night, Ossie and Audrey Ritz were puttin' on the Ritz.
"We didn't want to settle for the YMCA," Ossie figured. Their fancy-pants hotel stay cost them $9.90, including a charge for a phone call that Audrey made to her mother, telling her she's OK. That night they exchanged wedding gifts. She bought him a watchband, and he bought her a large bottle of stuffed olives. If that's not love...
Anyway, they returned to live in Gary. They raised two daughters, Janice and Nancy. And a collection of alarm clocks ticked away the decades of their life together, all the precious memories and metals - silver, gold, and diamond anniversaries.
The couple lived in Indianapolis for 40 years, and moved back here a year ago, to Crown Point, just a backyard walk to daughter Janice's home. Ossie is now 93 and Audrey is 92, and they're still in love, 65 years after they eloped to the Palmer House.
For their anniversary gift, Janice remembered that they still had their original "honeymoon hotel" receipt. She also remembered hearing that the Palmer House honors such dusty documents, charging wrinkled married couples the same price if they return there for their anniversary.
So this past Monday, the Ritzes returned to the ritzy hotel. Dressed to the nines, they checked in, using their 1943 receipt to pay for the now $500 honeymoon suite. The hotel offered a three-night stay, but the couple preferred only one night, just like their honeymoon.
As they walked through the lobby, a dozen or so hotel staff erupted into applause on both sides of them.
"Welcome back!" they said as a Chicago TV news camera captured all the hubbub.
Ossie whispered to Audrey, "This is like a dream."
That evening, the two lovebirds were wined and dined by the hotel. By 9 p.m. they had enough of the royal treatment and retired to their 17th floor suite, a "Do Not Disturb" sign dangling from their doorknob.
Fade to black.
Jerry Davich jdavich@post-trib.com.
http://blogs.post-trib.com/davich/
© Copyright 2008 Digital Chicago, Inc
Joni and Jason Vander Woude of DeMotte threw out the first pitch of a RailCats game this season and will be celebrating their sixth wedding anniversary in September. (Stephanie Dowell/Post-Tribune)
On Dec. 18, 1999. Jason Vanderwoude got down on one knee at Chicago's Navy Pier.
With a picturesque skyline and sunset behind him, he finally popped the question to his girlfriend of two years: "Joni, will you marry me?" Joni excitedly replied "yes," and the young couple from DeMotte became even more engaged in their love for each other.
They had grand plans - a wedding, a honeymoon, and forever together, just like Jordan and Sam. But God had other plans.
Less than a month later, as Joni drove to church on a cold Sunday morning, her car careened off the road and into a deep irrigation ditch. The crash ejected her from the car and she landed face up in six inches of water, her head resting on a slab of ice.
Joni broke her neck in three places that morning, paralyzing her body from the chest down, including little use of her hands. After being rushed to a hospital, she laid unconscious for two weeks in an induced coma.
During that time, the 19-year-old Jason had big decisions to make: If Joni makes it through, do we still get married? Will we still be in love? Do I love her enough to take care of her until death do us part?
He told himself that if Joni suffered brain damage, "it would throw a big wrench into our sprocket." But if she suffered only physical damage, they "still had hope as a couple."
After five months of surgeries and rehabilitation, Joni returned home, confined to a wheelchair. Still, her brain, emotions, and quick wit returned home intact. They still had hope as a couple.
Three years later, on Sept. 21, 2002, they married, just days after Jason finished building a new home, through donations, that could accommodate Joni's unique needs. If that’s not love...
They've been together ever since "by God's amazing grace," Joni told me this past week at the couple's home.
Jason and Joni, both 28 years old, have since used the tragedy as testimony to young members of the Community Christian Reformed Church. There, they serve as youth group leaders and mentors, coaching soccer, and coordinating activities for high school kids.
"They are our inspirational leaders," said Patty Roodzant, church secretary.
So much so that during a Gary SouthShore RailCats baseball game earlier this month, the couple was chosen to throw out the game's first pitch.
On that Friday night, "Faith Night" at the U.S. Steel Yard, Joni maneuvered her motorized wheelchair to the pitcher's mound, and Jason followed. With 186 of their church members cheering from the stands, Joni gave the baseball to Jason, and he pitched a high hard one to the catcher.
"Teamwork," Jason said.
Teamwork indeed.
Fade to black on act two.
Act three
Ossie, 93, and Audrey Ritz, 92, display their wedding picture from 1943 at their home in Crown Point. (Scott M. Bort/Post-Tribune)
Ossie Ritz walked to the corner of Van Buren and 5th Avenue in Gary, looking for a store that sold alarm clocks. U.S. Steel's newest industrial engineer needed something to wake him for work each morning during the summer of 1942.
He looked to the left, looked to the right, and walked westbound, into Handley's Drugstore. There he found an alarm clock, for $1, and there he found the love of his life working behind a counter, Audrey. He's managed to hang on to both ever since.
Audrey went home that day and told her sister, "I met the most interesting boy."
The two twenty-something lovebirds began courting and a year later, on July 17, 1943, they eloped. For their honeymoon, they took a South Shore train into Chicago and stayed at the Palmer House.
For at least one night, Ossie and Audrey Ritz were puttin' on the Ritz.
"We didn't want to settle for the YMCA," Ossie figured. Their fancy-pants hotel stay cost them $9.90, including a charge for a phone call that Audrey made to her mother, telling her she's OK. That night they exchanged wedding gifts. She bought him a watchband, and he bought her a large bottle of stuffed olives. If that's not love...
Anyway, they returned to live in Gary. They raised two daughters, Janice and Nancy. And a collection of alarm clocks ticked away the decades of their life together, all the precious memories and metals - silver, gold, and diamond anniversaries.
The couple lived in Indianapolis for 40 years, and moved back here a year ago, to Crown Point, just a backyard walk to daughter Janice's home. Ossie is now 93 and Audrey is 92, and they're still in love, 65 years after they eloped to the Palmer House.
For their anniversary gift, Janice remembered that they still had their original "honeymoon hotel" receipt. She also remembered hearing that the Palmer House honors such dusty documents, charging wrinkled married couples the same price if they return there for their anniversary.
So this past Monday, the Ritzes returned to the ritzy hotel. Dressed to the nines, they checked in, using their 1943 receipt to pay for the now $500 honeymoon suite. The hotel offered a three-night stay, but the couple preferred only one night, just like their honeymoon.
As they walked through the lobby, a dozen or so hotel staff erupted into applause on both sides of them.
"Welcome back!" they said as a Chicago TV news camera captured all the hubbub.
Ossie whispered to Audrey, "This is like a dream."
That evening, the two lovebirds were wined and dined by the hotel. By 9 p.m. they had enough of the royal treatment and retired to their 17th floor suite, a "Do Not Disturb" sign dangling from their doorknob.
Fade to black.
Jerry Davich jdavich@post-trib.com.
http://blogs.post-trib.com/davich/
© Copyright 2008 Digital Chicago, Inc
