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Show But sheer stubbornness or some of Father's spirit made me resolve to get married at graduation after a two-year engagement to a girl I'd met in college. The courage of that pretty brown-haired, brown-eyed girl-who admired Father and shared his unshakable will-- was of course essential. We scraped up enough to buy a used Model-T "runabout" for $45. We loaded our luggage and headed for Nada. We sang as we sped at a top speed of 30 miles an hour, leaving a trail of cylinder oil from a leaky gasket. We'd pour in a quart of oil every time we filled the ten-gallon gas tank, or oftener. Father and Mother welcomed us warmly. Both were grayer, more bent, inclined to shortness of breath after brief effort. Mother, I fear, doubted for our future. Father did not. He found Edna's cheerfulness and confidence like his own. He loved her immediately. He couldn't wait to show us his garden in the wasteland. With the water gurgling out of the reservoir and sparkling down the "main ditch" along the luxuriant tamarix windbreak, he waved exuberantly at the flourishing small fruit trees, currant, gooseberry and raspberry vines, carrots, lettuce, radishes, cabbages, melons, squashes. In the midst of the dry wilderness, this was a miracle to us. The tall tamarix gave dense green shelter from the wild south wind. We could have wept in sharing Father's pride. Soon after we returned to the store, where Mother was preparing a celebration dinner, Father strode in, his sun-bronzed face wreathed with wrinkles and smiles, bearing half a dozen fruits and vegetables toward the meal. With a mischievous smile of her own, Mother served us each a glass, a mere thimbleful, of red currant wine glowing like |