My parents met on the Boston University campus over 29 years ago. For their first date, my dad invited my mom to a $2 beer night at a nearby bar. My mom, exclusively a wine drinker, didn’t drink any beer that night. My dad thought he had struck gold, as not only was my mom beautiful, but she was the cheapest date ever. She sure fooled him! Apparently their alcoholic beverage differences didn’t stand in their way, and when it was time for my mom to leave a few short months later, they realized they never wanted to be apart. My mom returned to Bolivia, and over a series of phone calls to my mom’s family, my dad expressed his wish to marry my mom. My grandpa very wisely replied, “Sure, you can marry my daughter. But you have to come live with us for 2 months before any kind of wedding can happen.” My dad took off for Santa Cruz, where he was forced to drink a lot of whiskey by my uncles and grandpa, coerced into daily waltz lessons by every one of my grandma’s seven sisters, and chased by angry bulls while on the ranch. They must have realized that my dad was a great catch and that his calm demeanor would be a perfect match for my mom’s vibrant (and that’s an understatement) personality.

They were married in the beautiful cathedral in the main plaza of Santa Cruz, and returned to Boston to begin their lives together. From the bottom of my heart, I would like to thank my parents for showing my sister and I everyday that marriage is about love, respect, honesty, growth, and much, much laughter. I love you both so much!

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