As I sorted through a stack of photos from October of 1947, I remembered some pieces of several stories. My father and mother were dating. It was serious enough that my dad wanted his parents to meet his girlfriend. So they and another dating couple who were really good friends, plus the housemother of my dad’s fraternity, all piled in his car to drive to Chicago. I presume the housemother went along as a chaperone, but that part of the story was never relayed. Another question I wish I could ask.
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