When I sat down with my parents to ask them about their love story and what’s kept their marriage strong over the years, I expected to learn some cute anecdotes, maybe a few laughs. What I didn’t expect was how grounded, intentional, and enduring their relationship really is. As they spoke, I realized that their connection isn’t built on fleeting romantic highs, but on friendship, shared values, hard work, and a lot of mutual respect.
Their story began when my dad moved to Millington, New Jersey. It was 1985, and he had just turned 18. My mom was 12. Their new neighborhood was the kind where community mattered — block parties, potlucks, families that actually knew each other. That’s how both sets of grandparents became friends, and over time, so did the kids. My mom became friends with my dad’s younger brother, Matt, who was around the same age as my mom. Back then, my dad was just “Matt’s older brother,” nothing more. But the families were tight-knit. They even spent Thanksgivings together and vacationed as a group.
My parents didn’t think of each other romantically during that time. Their relationship was rooted in a deep familiarity that grew over the years. It wasn’t until much later, after my mom had gone off to college and returned home, that things started to shift. She remembers meeting up with my dad for a beer, just hanging out as adults, exploring potential feelings for each other, and then… radio silence for two years.
“I had to figure my shit out,” my mom laughed, recalling that time. She eventually moved back home to the suburbs, and one night, in the car with her mom (my grandma), she was asked the kind of question that can pull a memory right to the surface: “Is there anyone you really regret it didn’t work out with?”
“Jamie,” my mom admitted. “Oh my god, I messed up my relationship with Jamie (my dad). How am I gonna get him back?”
Her solution? Pretend she had a parking ticket and needed help. My dad, a little wary, wasn’t immediately receptive. But fate—or maybe their families—had other plans.
Enter what’s now known as the “Nantucket scheme.” Their parents, clearly rooting for a reunion, while on vacation with one another, worked together on a scheme to get my parents back together. The idea was simple: get them in the same room, let the sparks fly. And it worked. After that night and being reunited, they soon started dating for real.
They were together for ten months before getting engaged. “I just knew,” my mom said. “I had to lock that shit down.”
The proposal happened at Hacklebarney State Park. My dad had planned to tie the ring around their dog Dixie’s neck — an adorable yellow lab who was basically my mom’s first child. But Dixie had other ideas and was splashing around in the river. Not wanting to risk losing the ring, my dad brought her to the side, called my mom over under the guise of “look at this,” and proposed right there. Later that night, they celebrated with their families at a dinner party — a full-circle moment for a relationship that started in community.
They were married for two years before my brother and I were born. Twins meant chaos, partnership, and a serious test of teamwork.
When I asked them what makes their marriage successful, they didn’t hesitate: we actually like each other.
“We’re different in a lot of ways,” my dad said. “But we balance each other out. We make each other laugh. We want the same things.” My mom added that coming from similar upbringings helped. Neither of their parents divorced, so they had a shared vision of commitment and longevity from the start.
They also talked a lot about communication. One of their daily habits is something they call their “little meetings” — dedicated moments to sit down, check in, go through lists, and just talk. They have built natural routines around staying connected: sharing about their days, making space for each other, and not bottling things up.
“Be honest,” my mom said. “Always. Even when it’s uncomfortable. That’s how you avoid the build-up.”
“No one has a perfect life,” my dad added. “No matter what you see on social media, everyone’s got their shit. When you hit the shit, you’ve gotta dig in. That’s where the work is.”
They stressed that marriage is not a linear journey. “Where you start is not where you finish,” my mom said. “It will change and grow many times.” Their advice for anyone considering marriage today is simple but profound: expect imperfection, but stay committed to working through it.
When I asked how having children changed their marriage, they were candid.
“It’s the hardest thing you’ll go through as partners,” my mom said. Having twins meant they were thrown into the deep end immediately. “From day one, your dad had to be an equal partner. He had no choice.”
She mentioned seeing other couples where the husbands didn’t step up in the early parenting years, and how that led to deep resentment. “You have to zig and zag,” my dad said. “Figure out what each person needs, and adjust.”
The workload, the exhaustion, the emotional toll — it was all real. But they leaned on each other. They understood that raising a family requires mutual effort and flexibility. And through it all, they made sure to maintain their friendship.
When I asked what lessons they wanted my brothers and me to carry forward in our own relationships, they didn’t give some grand, romanticized answer. They pointed back to everything they’d already said: be best friends with your person, communicate honestly, laugh often, and respect each other, even during the hard stuff.
“Your dad is my person,” my mom said, not as some movie-perfect statement, but as a truth that’s been earned over decades.
Hearing their story, I realized something: love doesn’t have to start with fireworks to turn into something extraordinary. Sometimes, it starts in a backyard in New Jersey, at a Thanksgiving table, or on a dog walk in a park. What matters is how you nurture it, how you grow together, and how you show up for each other — every day, through all of life’s zigzags.
Allie Richter is a senior psychology major who owes her existence to a fake parking ticket and some very sneaky grandparents. She can be reached at [email protected].