Greg Freeman: Daughters Cherish Memories Of Their Parents' Love Story. PD 2/21/2002

Headline: DAUGHTERS CHERISH MEMORIES OF THEIR PARENTS' LOVE STORY
Reporter: By Greg Freeman

Publication: ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
Last Printed: Thur. Feb. 21, 2002
Section: METRO, Page: B1, Edition: FIVE STAR LIFT

Henry Bennett didn't want to go to the party.
It had been set up by a friend of his, John Underwood. Bennett and Underwood had been childhood friends, growing up in the St. Louis area. But Bennett never felt comfortable at parties. He didn't consider himself to be much of a social person, and he felt he always had to be "on" at such gatherings.
After considerable urging from Underwood, though, Bennett went to the party. That decision -- in 1946 -- was one he would never regret.

At the party, Bennett's eyes were fixed on one woman. Dorothy Wilkerson was standing along a wall, tapping her foot to the music. Bennett, who had always been shy around women, summoned up the courage to walk over to Wilkerson and ask her to dance.
She accepted, and Bennett found this woman to be special. She liked to talk, she was attractive and she was funny. They danced to that song -- and the next song, and the next.
Bennett was thrilled with this woman who smelled so nice. He invited her to a movie the next night, and she accepted. What had started out for Bennett as a reluctant appearance at a dance had turned into a courtship.

Within two years, Bennett and Wilkerson had decided to get married. But before that could happen, Bennett knew he had to win over Wilkerson's grandmother. Wilkerson's grandmother had raised her after her parents were killed in a car accident when she was 3.
   Callie Blackman was strict. Whenever her granddaughter went out on a date, Blackman set a curfew, and waited up to make sure that Wilkerson got back on time. She grilled the young men who took her granddaughter out. She had decided that Bennett was "OK, " but whether he was OK enough to marry her granddaughter was another story.
   Bennett told her that he had a good job, working for the post office. He would take good care of Dorothy, he promised.
   Blackman nodded approvingly, and the marriage took place.

As time went by, the Bennetts had three daughters. They doted on them, making sure the girls had everything they needed.

All the while, the love of Henry and Dorothy Bennett never faded. He nicknamed her "Baby Boo, " and she called him "Shug, " short for sugar.
   It wasn't uncommon for the girls to walk into a room and find their parents hugging or kissing. In a recent interview, daughter Katherine Bennett Brown said: "It made us feel good to know that they loved each other so much. I knew that if they loved each other so much, they loved us just as much."
   The daughters all grew up, and Henry and Dorothy's love remained strong. They bought themselves a swing for their back porch, and they loved nothing better than sitting out there during the summer for hours at a time, talking about anything and everything.
   As they grew older, Henry and Dorothy faced some illnesses. Both suffered from arthritis, and Dorothy had some heart problems. But they never let their ailments rule their lives. They coped with them the best they could, and they didn't complain to others when they didn't feel well. They may have confided in one another about how they were really feeling, but when someone else asked, they would always say that they were fine.

In 1998, their daughters held a 50th anniversary dinner to honor their parents, and I recently viewed a videotape of the event. When it came time for the couple to make remarks, Dorothy had tears in her eyes. "I love this man so much, " she said. "He's always been the only one for me. Nobody else could ever take his place."
He said, "This is a wonderful woman, and I love her with all my heart." And then they hugged.

Their health continued to fail, and in October last year, Henry Bennett died.
   Three months later, Dorothy Bennett died.
   "The doctors said she died of a heart attack, " Katherine Bennett Brown said. But you'll never convince her of that.
  "There's no question that my mother died of a broken heart."

Daniel Schesch - Webweaver

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