Long ago, when Quincy City Hospital had student nurses living in the Gordon House, they had Friday night dances. Only a very few gentlemen were invited. On one Friday night, I was one of them, and this is where I met My Nurse, who was only a student then. And it was love at first sight.
But World War II was on, so I joined the Navy. Every time our ship pulled into a port to pick up mail, I was hoping and praying that there would be a letter waiting for me from My Nurse. After four years, I was honorably discharged and by then, My Nurse was in charge of the hospital’s Emergency Room. We enjoyed dating, but then the Korean War was declared and I wanted to serve in the Marines. Two years later, another discharge— this time for good. And then I married My Nurse.
Over the years, My Nurse went from the ER to a position in a nursing home, but she always had time to take care of our five children and myself. This June 7, we’ll celebrate our 61st anniversary. And every night when we go to bed, I turn off the light and I always say, “Good night, dear, I love you.’’ Then, from My Nurse’s side of the bed, I hear, “I love you, too!’’
Thank you, Pauline. You’ve taken the best care possible of me.
—Nominated by James G. McDonald