Green Garden Productions: My Argument for Flowers. Or Happy Anniversary, Nana and Grandpa.

I once dated a manchild who refused to bring me flowers. He claimed he loved me deeply, but flowers were cliche and silly and died quickly. I maintained that they were vital to the endurance of our relationship, but I was unable to explain why flowers were so important to me. It wasn't the cost - I enjoy a plucked park daisy as much as an arranged bouquet. It was something so much more that I couldn't quite explain.

And that is where our story begins - my quest for figuring out why I love flowers so very much.

I grew up with a woodsy trail connecting my house with my Grandparent's house. Some of my earliest memories involve walking this little trail, past begonia blooms and forget-me-knots, pulling apart the pods of milkweed. As I walked, I would pluck white and orange tipped daffodils, deep pink bleeding hearts and yellow wild roses. Nana had a collection of tiny vases for her Bunny Bouquets, her picked posies.

From a very early age I knew that if I could not find them in the main parts of the house I had to look outside. Nana in her tiered gardens, tending her lilies and peonies. Grandpa looking after his roses, his tomatoes, his pear trees. Checking the water levels of their African violets in the little greenhouse they had created in the back corner of Grandpa's basement wood shop.

I have always associated flowers with Nana and Grandpa, but that does not explain how deep my love goes.

Today marks the 70th wedding anniversary of Nana and Grandpa. This, in itself, is a pretty remarkable feat. But what has actually gone into that number is what makes it truly wonderful.

Grandpa, Francis Southon, was born in 1918. Muriel Aurilla Hess, my Nana, was born the next year. Grandpa loved Nana the moment he saw her in the halls of Kalamazoo Central High School. He loved her enough to get cast opposite of her in their senior musical (which, incidentally, was one of Howard Chenery's first directing moments). According to him, he knew immediately she was the one he would marry and he was determined to win her love, even if they hadn't yet spoken.

When Nana decided to travel to Ann Arbor for her undergraduate education, Grandpa followed. He was on their pre-med track before he decided that K College would be better suited to his academic goals. Nana finished at the University of Michigan and was one of the first female students there to receive her Phi Beta Kappa key.

During this time the song "Peg of My Heart" was popular. I always knew it would be you since I heard your lilting laughter. Peg o' my heart. Oh, your glances make my heart say...come make your home in my heart. Peg o' my heart, I'll love you, we'll never part. Grandpa has been calling Nana Peg since high school; It was years before I realized that the Muriel on government mail was Nana.

Nana moved to Chicago and worked towards a masters degree in Social Work from the University of Chicago. Grandpa joined the army and went to Officer Candidate School. World War II was in full swing and Grandpa wanted to do his part. He was one of the 90 Day Wonders - a college education and a high level of intelligence sped things up in the war.

Nana and Grandpa knew they would get married, but the war made it difficult to nail down a location or date. Nana's mom planned three different weddings - Kalamazoo, Chicago, and Kalamazoo again. The original wedding date was February 14, but Grandpa had orders to be in Wrightsville Beach on that day. They had to move the day up.

So, they got married 70 years ago today, in Michigan. Nana wore a Balenciaga suit and carried green orchids.

The next years were not always perfect and easy. They moved around the country; Grandpa turned out to be an amazing Training Officer and was incredibly useful in preparing new privates for battle. During the first years of their marriage they only saw each other on Sunday nights when Grandpa could come home for dinner. Nana knew that if Grandpa missed two Sundays in a row, she would have to go home to Michigan. At one point, she did have to go home, but not because Grandpa left. While they were living in Wrightsville Beach, Nana caught pneumonia. Grandpa was not able to take care of her (delivering oxygen over ice was a bit time consuming), so Nana went North to her parents. Nana said that the sight of Grandpa waiting for her on the Carolina train platform the day she traveled back to him is still one of her favorite moments of their marriage.

That is what most of their marriage has been - beautiful moments filled with love, respect and true appreciation for time spent together.

I asked Grandpa today how he views his life. He answered simply. I think we’ve had a wonderful life. It just happened. In the first place, there has to be an awful lot of respect for each other. There has never been a moment when I didn’t respect my wife, and I think she would say the same about me. You have to have a basis for it, a foundation. To build a family on. Actually be with each other, not just share the same space. Then you can handle anything that comes along. Cope with problems that come along; if you have a mutual respect you can fix anything. During the war we lived in some pretty bad places, and we lived in some pretty ok ones – but the reason they were all home was because Peg and I were there together. We got through life together.

Nana echos that sentiment. I’m always proud of Frank; he does things that make me proud everyday. Thank goodness I fell in love with the right person.

Much of what I value is because of my Nana and Grandpa. Mutual respect. Human equality. Perseverance and commitment. Ice cream. Books and writing and art. Christmas. Voicing a strong opinion. Family. Creative entrepreneurship. The lake.

And flowers. As I look through their photograph books there are so many flowers. Flowers on Grandpa's lapel. Flowers pinned to Nana's dresses. Flowers in cut glass vases and bordering houses. There are hundreds of faded flower enclosures, embossed with the names of florists in Ann Arbor, Kalamazoo, Texas, Carolina, Chicago.

Notes that say I am fool - forgive me.

I cannot wait to see you soon, my darling.

Every day I love you more.

Simply written, one-lined love notes that once accompanied a magnolia corsage or a red Radio Flyer wagon filled with gardenias.

Nana and Grandpa have had fresh flowers in their house every day of my life. Sometimes they were formal arrangements sent by the florist. Or a sun-smelling collection of roses from Grandpa's garden. He has not been able to get into his garden and pick Nana roses in recent years. He doesn't make it to the florist, either. But, somehow, there are always fresh flowers for Nana. Always.

I ask him why. Why have you filled Nana's world with flowers? Because, he told me. I love her.

That's my reason. The answer to my quest. I have flowers in my bones; Nana and Grandpa's marriage has been built on respect, love and flowers. A representation of what they stand for. So yes, flowers may be cliche, and silly, and they die quickly. But what they stand for, to me and my Grandparents, is so much more than that.

When I think of that movie story kinda love I think of my Nana and Grandpa. A simple flower in a vase makes their life and commitment tangible.

This year's anniversary dinner will not be as elaborate as one that was hosted by Grandpa's company in the first years of their marriage - it will not have a pink table cloth and a full ham. But, both of their daughters will be there. Nana and Grandpa will be together in the home that they built and filled with wonderful artifacts of their world travels. There will be pictures of their four grandchildren, and drawings on the refrigerator from their four great-grandbabies. And there will be flowers.

So many flowers.