"You know it's love when it grows," said the wise silver-haired lady.  "I was head over heels in love with him.  He was so dark and tall and handsome.  Now it's more mature.  It's deeper.  I wouldn't want to be without him.  I wouldn't want to share him with anyone else."
Addie (short for Adeline) Dungey is not shy in expressing affection for Perry, her husband of 53 years.  "He's just part of my life," she said.  "He's my best friend.  He's very considerate and kind to me.  He's always been there for me and I've tried to be there for him.  He's always supportive of me, and the children too.  He's a good father.  He never tried to steer the children in a direction different from their interests."
There are reverse sentiments, but Perry is not so effusive.  "I appreciate the way she puts up with me," he said.  "We have similar views on almost everything.  And she goes fishing with me about once every ten years.  She could make it about once every year."
"Fishing is boring," stated Addie without apology.  "The best thing about fishing is the shore lunch."  (In other words, love doesn't erase all differences.)
"The best thing of all is that he likes my cooking," continued Addie.  "He taught me a few things about cooking so I have to ask why doesn't he cook now?"  (In other words, love doesn't erase all questions.)
"That's what it's all about -- love and commitment," continued Addie.  "But the hormones are settling down now -- mine, not his."  (In other words, love doesn't erase all biorhythms)
Long ago Perry discovered a way to momentarily hush his lovely loquacious bride who remains head over heels in love with him.  He became her dentist.

Perry was born in Waucoma, Iowa, on March 12^th, 1919, the son of George and Jessie Dungey.  He grew up with a younger sister in that northeastern part of the Hawkeye State where his mother was a teacher and his father a miller.  "My father would grind seed for farmers and sell bran and tannage," explained Perry.  "That mill is still in Waucoma."
He graduated from Waucoma High School in 1936, era of the Great Depression.  "My dad worked ten hours a day for six days a week," he said.  "I went down to the Little Turkey River and caught fish.  Three times a week we had meals of fish.  It was a gorgeous river.  Today the bass are gone and there are only catfish and bullheads in that river.  It's polluted."
Long hours at the job and at the fishing hole paid off when Perry was able to attend Luther College in Decorah, Iowa, just 25 miles from home, graduating in 1940 with a degree in education and a continuing love for music, especially the bass clarinet.  He was immediately hired to teach English and direct the band at the high school in Russell, a small town in southwestern Minnesota.
In 1942 he enlisted in the U.S. Navy and served with the First Marine Division.  He trained to be a dental technician and worked on the enamels of crew and officers alike as he sailed the high seas to the islands of Peleliu and Okinawa.  As with many servicemen, a silent wall protects the tender and terrible years of Perry's time in Marine uniform during the War.  He was gone 44 months.
In 1946 he came home to attend the University of Minnesota and work toward a Master's Degree in Education.  In the process he met someone with whom he'd spend the rest of his life.

Sweet Adeline, one of six children, was born to Albert and Mary Krug at Glendora, Michigan.  When she was almost five years old, the family moved to Montague, also in southern Michigan.  Her father, who was a missionary in Saskatchewan, Canada, before he married, was a Lutheran pastor.
"Being a member of a minister's family can be difficult," said Addie.  "You live in a goldfish bowl.  At least that's the way it used to be.  We were expected to set good example."
Addie's good example included babysitting and waitressing during her high school years.  Then it was off to Hamline Asbury School of Nursing in St. Paul and Minneapolis, graduating as a registered nurse in 1946. 
At Hamline, Addie had a classmate whose friend was Perry's roommate at the University.  "Perry's roommate and my classmate thought we should meet," she explained.  "No, it wasn't a blind date.  I wouldn't go out on a blind date alone.  Anyhow, I told my friend that if he wasn't cute and nice, I'd kick her around the block."  Chided Perry, "She talks a good game."
"Then I saw him," said Addie.  "He was dark, beautifully tanned.  I always said that the man I'd marry would wear tweed and smoke a pipe -- and he did."
This momentous meeting occurred on the University campus at Coffman Union.  The date was April 1^st, 1946.
Could he dance?  "I could follow him if I led," she smiled knowingly.  "After the dance I told him it was a fun evening and said thank you very much.  I left that big marine just standing there at the door and I walked inside."
"The next morning he called and invited me out to dinner," added Addie.  "He picked me up but we couldn't go out for dinner because all the restaurants were closed.  In those days restaurants were closed on Sundays.  That shows you where his mind was." Where was Perry's mind?  On sweet Adeline.  "Wow!  That was it!" says he.    Click here to continue.