Louis Hilton Love

My parents are private. They are not people who desire attention or the spotlight. However, today I want to shine a light on their love.

Today is their fortieth wedding anniversary. 

My mother has recounted the story of how she and my father met multiple times, and I thought it would be nice to share it with you (with their permission, of course).

In the late seventies, my mother and her friends decided to go to the gym on their college campus. It is important to note that my mom is not someone who enjoys frequenting the gym. She grew up playing outside in her neighborhood and was the hood’s undisputed Double Dutch champion. But the gym? Not my mother’s scene. 

However, off to the gym, they went. While my mom was stretching, her friend suddenly exclaimed: 

“Rocky, when your legs go up, that guy’s eyes go up!” 

The guy was my dad, the school’s star track athlete. 

My mother brushed it off, but eventually my father approached and, in his Gullah-Geechee accent, asked for her name. An exchange ensued and a date was set: they would meet up at the track in a few days.  

“The track,” my mother thought to herself. “I guess….”

My mother must have had some intuition, or some voice in her head propelling her forward because before she could object, she had already said yes. So, on that fateful day, they met on my father’s turf. 

At this point in the story, my mom always says while mimicking my father´s warm-up:

“He began stretching and twisting. I tried to just do what he was doing, but he eventually suggested that I sit down and wait for him while he finished his workout.”  

He proceeded to do wind sprints and calisthenics while his friends from the track team came over to say hi and chat with him and that is when it finally dawned on my mom:

“Oh shoot, this boy is on the track team,” she thought to herself.

They eventually started dating and getting to know each other. When the U.S. boycotted the 1980 Olympic games, my mother was there when my dad swapped his track uniform and spikes for a dog tag, army-issued fatigues, and boots. 

In 1983, my parents were married by my mother’s pastor without any fanfare or an extravagant celebration. They exchanged simple gold wedding bands and my dad still wears his to this day. The day after their wedding, my mom, who had barely left Illinois, boarded a flight to Germany to join my dad who was serving there.

Simply put, this is the story of how a girl from East Saint Louis and a boy from Hilton Head began a life together. And here they are, forty years later, having weathered many cloudy days and intense storms. 

To be frank, because my parents are content to live their lives for themselves and not for others, I was uncertain about writing this piece. However, this is Louis Hilton and their story is Louis Hilton Love. And I believe their story is a testament to faith and everyday love and support.

And can you believe that my mom only went to the gym once during college with her friends? That day was the first and last time. Talk about divine timing.

Happy fortieth wedding anniversary, Mom and Dad. Thank you for teaching us about true faith, integrity, commitment, and dedication. We love and appreciate you.