Vising with a new friend yesterday, brought back the memory of perhaps the greatest story I've ever told. Here it is:
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Idaho Voices
Trittos’ love stronger than a good pickup line
Couple plan for future with eight forever-children
Thu., Feb. 5, 2009
By Herb Huseland
Recently, we asked for love stories to fit around Valentine’s Day.
Using Huckleberries online, a Spokesman-Review blog, we received an
outpouring of stories. Stories that were funny, poignant and wonderful
testimonials to what a little work in a relationship can create.
One, however, was at first unusual, then astounding. Jim and Jana
Tritto don’t just show love and affection for each other; they have a
family of 20, with eight still at home.
Jana originally married Mike in 1975; both had two children from
previous relationships. Jana, wanted more children, but she and Mike
were unable to have any more. They tried adoption, but it was too
expensive.
Finally, discussions with local officials provided an unusual
result. They were told, “Hey, if you want fast service, we can have a
child for you tomorrow. The only problem is that they are special needs
kids.” Mike and Jana talked it over, and started adopting. When the dust
settled, in addition to the four they already had, 16 more were
eventually adopted. Some left to be out on their own, a few died from
birth problems that couldn’t be overcome and eight are left.
Then tragedy struck. Mike suddenly died, leaving Jana, after 20 years
of marriage, alone with the eight kids, all needing constant attention.
Five years went by and Jana met Jim. We’ll let Jana pick up the story
from here.
“Jim, looking like Sam Elliot in cowboy boots and hat, walked over as
I chatted with friends. He introduced himself and in a smooth,
confident baritone said, ‘We need to be dating.’ How storybook, how
romantic! Since I was totally unfamiliar with dating etiquette, all I
could do was laugh in his face and sputter an embarrassed. ‘I don’t
think so!’ in my most sarcastic voice.
“I had been alone for five years, prior to that, happily married for
20 years to my best friend since old hippie days. We were growing up and
planning on growing old together. His loss was sudden, devastating,
life-changing; but I had adapted well. I wasn’t interested in another
relationship or dating, wasn’t looking, wasn’t interested. In fact, this
cold January night in 2000, was the first time I had ventured out
socially … outside of church or work or Costco.
“This cowboy was relentless. He wouldn’t leave. He took my hand and
we danced to some country song playing on the jukebox. There was no
dance floor. I had never danced like that before and tried to protest
that I didn’t know how, but he just said ‘Hang on to me now,’ and we
waltzed between the tables.
“I tried to tell him that if he really knew anything about my life,
he would not be interested. He wouldn’t drop it, so a couple of weeks
later we met for coffee at that same spot. I wanted to explain that my
life wasn’t mine, I still had eight of our 20 kids at home … kids with
disabilities, some quite significant, and I would be responsible for all
of them for life. And, if that wasn’t enough to send him packing, I
told him that I didn’t drink, dance or date. Since he didn’t run away
screaming, we decided to turn coffee into dinner. Here comes the acid
test. We went to my house, where the care providers were helping the
kids finish a spaghetti dinner … it was everywhere.
“This man was greeted like a long-lost, rich uncle by all the kids.
They shared handshakes and hugs and spaghetti sauce with him. He never
flinched. He acted (and I’m sure it was an act) like he loved every
minute of it. At dinner I answered questions about the kids and their
lives and how they came to be part of our family … he told me about his
kids. We both talked about our hopes and our heartbreaks. It was a nice
dinner.
“It was a beginning. Jim came back to the house the next day; we had
made no plan. He remembered every one’s name, they remembered his. I
think that was the moment I thought I might have a keeper. We took long
drives, he taught me to dance, we met each others’ families, we learned
each others’ ways. We spent the next year and a half talking and
planning, learning to trust, being cautious, neither of us wanting to
err. We looked at homes, wanting to have space for the families and for a
garden and horses. We finally found our little ranch, spent six months
remodeling and building fences before we could move in.
“We tied the knot quietly, privately at the Hitching Post in
September 2001, the day after 9-11. We laughed and cried; we exchanged
bent up old rings that made the minister laugh when he looked at them.
We went to our new home and sat on the porch … everything was the same,
but everything was changed. Once, one of the kids had asked Jim if he
was going to be her dad … he explained that he would be her stepdad when
we got married. That night we sat on the deck … followed the twin
towers tragedy, all the more painful, since Jim had worked there some
time ago.
“We had been married less than six hours, the kids were getting ready
for bed when a tentative little voice called through the screen door,
‘Goodnight, Dad.’ Oh yes, that shy whisper put it all in perspective.
Nothing matters more than family. We can get through anything as long as
we are committed to each other.
“One year later, we finally got a honeymoon. Over dinner, Jim took my
hand like he had on the night we met, looked into my eyes, and said,
‘It hasn’t all been good.’ It didn’t quite come out the way he wanted, I
know what he meant, but I couldn’t help but laugh at him all over
again.
“So, that is our story. No, it hasn’t all been good, most of it has
been great! Not a day goes by that we don’t marvel at the road we walk
and the life we live. Our wonderful children, our little ranch, and the
love we found in each other when we weren’t even looking. We laugh, we
cry, we work hard together, we can argue a bit, too. We will grow old
together, surrounded by our forever-children, who will remind us each
day and each evening, that nothing in this world is more important than
this.”
If there were a prize for the most successful love story, this I’m
sure would win it hands down. There will be other love stories told next
week, but this one is special. The couple’s eight children range from
25 through 42 years old and will never be able to leave. They are her
forever-children.
Contact correspondent Herb Huseland at
bayviewherb@gmail.com. Read his blog,Bayviewa.blogspot.com.
