Dorothy Jean seemed to me to be a flaky character, her mind being somewhere apart from her body. Mardelle and I became acquainted with her while working at the Humane Society bingo games, formed by animal lovers to help support their animal shelter. Some of the volunteers stayed around for a social visit after the games.

Dorothy Jean was a somewhat irregular attendee of the games, but she was there often enough to become pretty well acquainted with us. She was a nice looking woman, with almost always a pleasant look. She smiled easily. Her straight hair flowed naturally from the crown, cut in a style that tapered toward her neck and copped to expose her ears. Despite a bit of graying she managed to keep it a shade of brown that matched her eyes.

For the next few years I encountered Dorothy Jean at bingo and sometimes at the Encore Theater, where she was an active member. By this time Mardelle had grown tired of marriage and we had parted by mutual agreement. I kept helping at the bingo games when I could. One night near the end of the games Dorothy Jean proposed a little party at a restaurant. I headed for the restaurant after the games. I expected to find Dorothy Jean there, but found only another Dorothy of our group there. Dorothy Jean never showed up, so we waited, had a snack and went home, wondering what happened to Dorothy Jean. On another occasion Dorothy Jean invited me to call her and handed me a note with a phone number. I tried to call her. It turned out that she had given me the number of her previous home. Flaky? Maybe so, but I found her to be fun to be around; good company.

Dorothy Jean invited me to escort her to her high school reunion. She was delighted that I accepted. She said she had always gone to these affairs alone. She’d never felt like asking someone to go with her before. She was a long-time single woman, never married. The reunion was a dinner-dance. She proudly introduced me to her former classmates, made me feel special. She was a moderately good dancer. There was no cheek-to-cheek dancing for us. She stood shoulder high to me. She was a nice armful though; not fat, but far from skinny. It was an enjoyable evening for us both.

Dorothy Jean was a genealogist of sorts. She and her mother had made many trips to county seats, and to old graveyards in Virginia and Ohio, seeking names of dead relatives. One great great-grandmother had been particularly elusive. When we could find nothing on the web we began traveling to prospective places to look for names to add to her collection. We traveled to the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia and hunted a graveyard. We also located a farm that had once belonged to a great grandfather. We drove up a dirt road for about half a mile to a ramshackle house and barn. We were greeted by a yappy dog. An old man came out of the house and spoke to us. Dorothy Jean introduced us and told him of our business there. Momentarily the old man invited us in. We walked in, gingerly threading our way between machines and furniture for a conversation that lasted at least half an hour. When we left we were old friends. Dorothy Jean never met anyone who was a stranger for long.

Dorothy Jean loved Virginia, a varied land with beaches, rolling hills, mountains and broad valleys. We visited it often over several years. One time I packed my camp gear, intending to camp out all the way across Virginia. We started out with a campground in mind. By the time we reached the place, rain was inevitable. Who wants to set up camp in the rain? We sought a dry place for the night. The same thing happened the next day. The strange thing was that the days were mostly dry and pleasant. We ended up not camping at all. We visited all the historic places along our route; Thomas Jefferson’s University of Virginia, Monticello, Williamsburg and even Skyline Drive, and more. She really loved historic places, especially those in the South.

We enjoyed going to concerts by the Lima Symphony Orchestra, and plays at the Encore Theater. Dorothy Jean sometimes had a role in a play, and often acted as an usher. She said that it was as an usher that she first noticed me with my first wife, Mary.

Dorothy Jean liked my children and all four of them liked her. I never knew anyone who didn’t like her. She was a friendly and caring person who could take being kidded in good humor. Once she let her hair grow and got a permanent wave that made her look like little orphan Annie. She took a lot of ribbing about that. She laughed about it but could barely wait to get back to her old style.

It was evident early on in our dating experience that Dorothy Jean was in love with me. She had been in love before with a young man she would have married, but for his Jewish mother who would not accept a non-Jewish daughter in law. I was quite fond of Dorothy Jean. I probably loved her in my own peculiar way. I was reluctant to marry after my previous marriage, which had been less satisfying than I had hoped for. After five years of dating and taking trips together I finally realized that we were right for each other.

The wedding took place in May, on the hottest day of the whole year, with friends and family members present. In the years of our marriage the proudest declaration made by Dorothy Jean was “I inherited a family of four children and nine grandchildren.”