Dean and I met in 1967 at the University of Adelaide when we were 18 years old and in the second year of our science degrees. We worked back to back in the biochemistry laboratory. I soon discovered to my delight that he was on top of the subject and could answer my questions. I remember thinking: “This man is smart, and useful.” Soon I would “accidentally” come across him at the cafeteria, library and bookshop. Eventually he asked me out but we only dated for a few months. There was no drama. We drifted apart. He told me later he found me too frivolous; I found him too serious.
Fast forward two years and we were both studying for our honours. We began running into each other late at night in the library and we fell back into comfortable conversation. My mother noticed that he was being mentioned more often and invited him to my 21st birthday party. He looked so handsome at the door holding a big bunch of flowers, and got on so easily with my friends. As he climbed into his car to leave, he asked me out to the movies.
A week later we were early to the movie session, so we window-shopped. We talked and talked; he had such wide interests. Every time he spoke I learned something. He was kind and quietly self-confident and I sensed a gentle strength about him. He wasn’t as serious as I thought. I could make him laugh – the ultimate compliment. I was filled with joy. I didn’t want the window-shopping to end.
That night he took me to see Charly, with Cliff Robertson; later, it was 2001: A Space Odyssey. Maybe it was a test since science fiction was one of his passions. If so, I passed.
Being with Dean was so intellectually stimulating. He opened up new worlds for me. I began to work through his science fiction library. I’d have dinner with his family and then we’d both retire to his bedroom and shut the door – to listen to classical music. The family said later they wondered what we were doing. Beethoven!
We shared an interest in astronomy and combined our meagre savings to buy a telescope. He understood the scientific and technical aspects; I knew my way around the sky and could show him Saturn’s rings. His main hobby was shell collecting, and his idea of the perfect date was us crawling on our stomachs along the beach, looking for tiny shells. It became my favourite activity. We became inseparable.
Dean was reserved, independent and hid his emotions. I didn’t expect declarations of undying love. About three months into our relationship, he went away to a week-long science conference – I told him I’d miss him. His reply: “I’m going to have a good time.”
I met the bus when he returned, waiting excitedly at the stop late at night. As he came down the bus steps, I realised he looked a little pale and seedy. We hugged. Then as we turned to leave he said, “I missed you”, not looking at me, not in a romantic way but almost defiant. How dare I get under his skin! How dare I force him to express an emotion! I took a moment to process what he’d said and then the words hit me like a thunderbolt. That’s when I knew he loved me. And he’d broken through a hangover to express it.
He was never going to get rid of me after that. We went back to our respective homes and I think he must have slept well but I was possessed by a happy restlessness.
We married in 1971 (I asked him), and have been together for 53 years. What I didn’t perhaps appreciate at first was Dean’s kindness, patience, respect for others and loyalty. His calmness balanced my more outgoing personality. He did half the housework and eventually took over the cooking. He was a hands-on parent to our daughter from the start, changing nappies and comforting a restless baby all night. This was not so common for men in the 1970s! He nursed me through two bouts of breast cancer. Older people called on him to help with odd jobs and computer wrangling.
Of course we sometimes clashed. I was neat and he was messy. He was cautious, I was more impulsive. We were both stubborn but we learned to say “sorry” and mean it. Most of all, we had such fun. Love is knowing there’s always someone who’s on your side.
It’s been a life of adventure, travel, learning and sharing. We loved the outdoors. We studied and wrote about nature, and spread the conservation message. We’ve experienced ancient fossil sites, active volcanoes and the Arctic tundra; camped alone in a vast red desert, hiked the Rocky Mountains, and journeyed to places in Kyoto mentioned in ancient Japanese literature. After retiring from our science careers, I worked on the moth collection in Museums Victoria. Dean was down the corridor working on shells.
Now I’m now the only one who carries these memories. Dean has severe dementia and is in a home. When I visit he recognises me occasionally. Then he smiles and takes my hand. We walk in the garden of the home and, as always, our love for the outdoors brings us together.
Tell us the moment you knew
Do you have a romantic realisation you’d like to share? From quiet domestic scenes to dramatic revelations, Guardian Australia wants to hear about the moment you knew you were in love.
