My parents were married in the Breukelen/St. Pieter's Courthouse which was next door to Opa and Opoe Copier's house. (KohPEER--a French Huguenot name). The justice of the peace lived in this house, which faced the River Vecht.
My mother, always practical, chose to buy a new suit and hat for her wedding day rather than a wedding dress.
I don't think I mentioned that my father's name was Lodewijk. Now there's a Dutch name. No one ever called him that, and it was legally changed to Louis when he became a citizen.
Mother was Geertje, which no English-speaking person could pronounce, and she changed her name to Gay.
Years later, she regretted this when she was at parties and wore an ID that read, "HELLO, I'M Gay." In the eighties, she suggested that maybe she should go by "Gert." We vetoed that one.
Were they a good couple? Were they well matched? Did they like each other as well as love each other? Did they like sex?
For sure. No doubt about it. They enjoyed each other. They joked. He barked like a dog. She sang in Dutch. He told dumb stories. They arm wrestled. Sometimes they wrestled on the floor. Once he sat on her and said he was going to spit in her face. She laughed like a girl. We older children said, "yes, yes yes!" and the babies cried. He didn't, of course.
It may be one of life's finer blessings to have had parents who loved and respected each other.
Well, they could have been film writers in Beverly Hills, or opera singers or literary lions, who loved and respected each other.