Sam and Linda (Tyler) Peterson
Our Love Story (1970-1971)
Dear Laura,
When I told your father that my librarian, Courtney, had asked me to write about our dating years, he smiled and said, “I’ve already written some of that in my Father’s Legacy book. The questions in it might help you.”
I was delighted to hear that Sam had written about those early days. He read aloud from his handwritten pages—still a work in progress—and I loved hearing his perspective. It reminded me that even though we shared the same experiences, we each carried our own memories of them. That inspired me to write this letter as a kind of “He Said, She Said,” using some of the same questions from his book, so you can see how our stories meet, overlap, and gently complete one another.
HOW OLD WERE YOU WHEN YOU MET MOTHER? WHAT ATTRACTED YOU TO HER?
Dear Laura (From your father),
When I met the woman I would marry—who would become your mother—I was 25 years old and in my fourth year of teaching. I had dated several young ladies, including one at the time. Your mother and I had mutual friends who wanted us to go on a blind date, so we agreed.
At first, I was attracted to her appearance—her pretty eyes, beautiful straight teeth, lovely hair, and good figure, but it didn’t take long for me to discover more. She was easy to talk to, warm, and fun to be around. We quickly enjoyed each other’s company, and before long, that enjoyment grew into something deeper. It grew into love.
HOW OLD WERE YOU WHEN YOU MET FATHER? WHAT ATTRACTED YOU TO HIM?
Dear Laura (From your mother),
When I met your father, I was eighteen years old—a senior at Richland High School in North Richland Hills. I was also working every evening from 4:00 to 9:00 at Gene Prater Beauty School on Davis Boulevard (where Niki’s Italian Bistro is now).
My best friend Denise was dating Kenny, and Kenny was a friend of Sam’s.
Denise thought so highly of Sammy that she insisted I meet him. I resisted at first—I told her, “My calendar is full,” because I was already dating other boys. But Denise marched into my bedroom, looked at the calendar pinned to my bulletin board, flipped up the page, and found an open Saturday, and boldly wrote “Sammy” on it. And just like that, our first date was set—a double date with Denise and Kenny.
Although we call it a blind date, Denise had shown Sam a picture of me beforehand, so he had some idea of what to expect. Sam owned a blue Corvette at the time, but for our double date, he traded cars with his roommate. His roommate, Del Blue, had a Dodge Challenger.
When I first saw him—tall, dark, and handsome—I remember thinking, I’m going to keep this one for a while.
We had dinner out and went to see the movie Cleopatra at the Opera House in 1849 Village, an entertainment complex on the University of Fort Worth. During the movie, Sam held my hand, and I was pleased. We also went to the Carnation Ice Cream Parlor, and I had my favorite butterscotch sundae.
I wore a pink dress that I loved so much, I kept it for sentimental reasons.
That evening, we talked about our birthdays, and I told him, “We are both Virgos.”
He asked, “Is that a good thing?” I confidently said yes—without really knowing—but as it turns out, it really is.
I was drawn to him immediately. He was not only handsome but kind and gentle, with a calm voice and a respectful manner. He was a teacher, which impressed me, and when my mother met him, she instantly approved—something she had never really expressed about any of the boys I had dated before. “He’s so clean-cut,” she said.
I like to say that once Sam made it onto my calendar, he stayed there. I admired this man for his honesty and integrity. He was a straight arrow.
He began calling me every day. At our house, that was no small thing—my parents had strict rules. Phone calls were limited to ten minutes, and the only phone was in the living room, where they could hear everything. My mother would literally set a timer for ten minutes, but I didn’t mind. Life was busy, and those ten minutes became very special.
Another rule was that I could only go out with each boy once a week. Sam quickly claimed Saturday nights, and from then on, they were his. I was not allowed to go steady, which was a good thing because if I had been going steady, I would not have met Sam.
On our second date, we went to his parents’ house, and I met Florine and Jack. Sam stored his motorcycle there, and we went for a ride. That was fun! Denise had called him Sammy and had not told me his last name. I asked him about his last name, and when he said, “Peterson,” my quiet thought was, “That name is going to be important to my life.”
Another date included going to the movie, “Love it or Leave it” at the Worth Theater in downtown Fort Worth.
I was in the play The Littlest Wiseman at Scott Theater, playing an angel, and Sam came to see the play, and I remember him saying to someone else that I really was an angel.
On another date, we had dinner at Joe T. Garcia’s and saw the movie, “I Love My Wife.”
Sam sent a beautiful red rose bouquet, a very romantic gesture.
For Christmas, he gave me the black velveteen skirt and vest. Denise had told him that I was eyeing it.
He took me to a New Year’s Eve Party.
Then, when notices about the Richland High School Prom were coming up, I didn’t think that a teacher would want to go. Denise told Sam that he should take me. Arrangements were made to double-date at the Prom at Colonial Country Club, a perfect venue for my high school, the Richland Rebels. My pink formal was antebellum style. My white shoes had laces like ballet slippers. After we dined and danced, Sam and I took a walk in the Rose Garden. My shoelace on one shoe was loose; Sam knelt and tied it by the lovely water fountain. It was a magical night.
In that moment, under the soft lights, I felt like Cinderella.
Looking back now, those early days were filled with laughter, discovery, and the quiet beginnings of something lasting.
WHEN DID YOU KNOW THAT MOM WAS THE “ONE AND ONLY ONE”?
Dear Laura (From your father),
We enjoyed each other’s company and did many fun things together—going to the movies, out to eat, riding my motorcycle, and talking on the phone regularly. We were building the foundation of a relationship.
This felt different from anyone I had dated before. I realized she was “the one.” I asked her to share my life, and she said yes. We planned to be married after her first semester of college—on December 24, 1971.
WHEN DID YOU KNOW THAT FATHER WAS THE “ONE AND ONLY ONE”?
Dear Laura (From your mother),
I was already in love with him before my senior prom, but two moments truly confirmed it for me.
The first was that magical prom night.
The second was my graduation. My parents invited him to my graduation dinner—something they had never done for any of my previous dates. It was a very special occasion, with relatives traveling from Iowa, Michigan, and Houston. They reserved a banquet room at a beautiful hotel, and I was so pleased that Sam was included.
That, to me, was the moment I knew. He wasn’t just someone I was dating—he was becoming part of my life, and part of our family.
SHARE A MEMORY ABOUT THE PROPOSAL
Dear Laura (From your father),
As I mentioned, we had been seeing each other regularly when your mother told me she would be moving to Houston to attend San Jacinto Junior College. I knew then that I would not let the geographic distance between us end our relationship.
On a visit to Houston, I met her at her workplace and asked her to be my wife. It was a life-changing decision—for both of us. She said yes, and now, as I write this, we are working on year 55 of our marriage.
Dear Laura (From your mother),
While I was living in Houston with Aunt Pat and her family, I attended college in the mornings and worked in the afternoons as a receptionist at Lease-A-Plane of Houston.
I knew Sam was coming to visit; he arrived while I was alone in the office, carrying a beautiful bouquet of red roses. Then he asked me to marry him and gave me a lovely engagement ring, which fit perfectly.
Of course, I said yes, and we kissed.
Later, I asked him how he knew my ring size. He laughed and said, “Remember when I slipped that little pop-top tab onto your finger? It fit.”
When I look back on those years—1970 and 1971—they seem both simple and extraordinary. We didn’t know what the future would hold. We didn’t know where life would take us. We only knew that we wanted to face it together.
What began as a blind date—written in pencil on a teenage girl’s calendar—became a lifelong partnership, a shared journey, and eventually, a family.
It became you.
These memories are more than just stories; they are part of the history of our lives—woven into the history of our community, now preserved through projects like Birdsong, which gathers the voices and experiences of families like ours so they won’t be forgotten.
I hope that when you read this—and when others someday read it—you will see not only how our love began, but how small moments, simple choices, and faithful commitment can shape a lifetime.
Love,
Mother
Our Wedding
Clicking the photograph of the Wedding Album will open its corresponding album.
TELL ME ABOUT YOUR WEDDING DAY. WHAT HAPPENED?
WERE YOU NERVOUS, SCARED, HAPPY?
Dear Laura (From your mother),
I was not nervous or scared—not even a little. I was on cloud nine, completely happy and filled with excitement for our wedding day. I knew, with a calm certainty, that I was exactly where I was meant to be and that I was about to marry the love of my life.
In the days leading up to the wedding, life felt full and a bit hurried. I had just finished my semester at San Jacinto Junior College, left my job at Lease-A-Plane in Houston, and packed up my things from Aunt Pat’s home, where I had been living. I spent those last few days before the wedding with my parents, soaking in the comfort of being home again.
Your dad and I became engaged in October, so there wasn’t much time to plan a wedding—especially with me living in Houston and the wedding taking place in North Richland Hills. Somehow, everything came together. There’s something special about that kind of planning—simple, heartfelt, and guided by love more than perfection.
Before I had even told my parents about the engagement, they attended a Halloween party at the Arlington Yacht Club. There was a fortune teller there who told your grandmother that her daughter would be married by the end of the year. At the time, your grandmother thought perhaps it meant within a year—but certainly not before Christmas! She had no idea just how soon that prediction would come true.
When I told my parents in person about the engagement and our plan to marry on Christmas Eve, it became a joyful whirlwind of preparations. Your grandmother and I quickly discovered that everything seemed to cost exactly one hundred dollars—the cake, the photographs, the flowers, and even my wedding dress from J.C. Penney. That dress came with a short veil, but I had always dreamed of a long one. So, the day before the wedding, I took your grandmother’s lace tablecloth and carefully sewed it onto the veil’s headpiece. It became the most beautiful long lace veil. No one would have guessed it had once been a tablecloth—but I think that made it even more special.
We were married at the church where I grew up, Richland Hills United Methodist Church. It was a place filled with meaning for me, and it embraced us so warmly. We met with the pastor, Michael Pattison, before the wedding, and the church community helped in so many ways. The United Methodist Women, including your grandmother, prepared the reception with such care. The fellowship hall was set with lovely tablecloths, and the sanctuary was decorated with vibrant red poinsettias, perfect for Christmas Eve.
The morning of our wedding, December 24, 1971, dawned bright and sunny. I remember receiving a call from Aunt Pat, who was in town to sing at the wedding. She said, “It is a beautiful sunny day for your wedding!” And it truly was.
Before leaving for the church, my parents, brother, and I shared one last quiet meal—just the four of us. It was a simple moment, but one I’ve always treasured.
At the church, I dressed in the nursery, which served as the bride’s room. My bridal party gathered around me: my best friend Denise, who had introduced me to your dad in high school and truly was our cupid, stood as my Maid of Honor. Gail, my beauty school friend, was Matron of Honor, and my cousin Michelle was my Junior Bridesmaid. Together we made sure I had “something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue”—and Gail added a shiny new penny for my shoe.
Just before the ceremony, as we waited at the entrance of the sanctuary, there was a small moment of excitement—Denise realized she had left the wedding ring in the dressing room! She dashed out to retrieve it. I remember thinking not about the delay but hoping she wouldn’t mess up her hair as she ran outside! She made it back just in time, looking just as lovely as ever.
While we waited, your grandfather took my pulse. It was steady and calm. I wasn’t anxious at all. I felt peaceful and sure, ready to marry your dad.
Then came the moment. My father walked me down the aisle, and when the pastor asked, “Who gives this woman away?” he answered, “Her mother and I do.” That meant so much to me.
We had memorized our vows, just as your grandfather suggested. At that time, couples didn’t write their own vows—we spoke the traditional Methodist words, promises that have guided our marriage ever since.
“I, Linda Diane Tyler, take you, Samuel Jack Peterson, to be my lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, and to be faithful to you alone, until death do we part.”
“I, Samuel Jack Peterson, take you, Linda Diane Tyler, to be my lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, and to be faithful to you alone, until death do we part.”
We were declared husband and wife, shared our first kiss, and then celebrated with our family and friends in the fellowship hall. It was a simple reception with cake and punch, no dancing, just warm conversation and joy. I remember your dad’s Aunt Sybil telling him that I was the most beautiful bride she had ever seen. That was very sweet of her, and I’ve always remembered it.
Too soon, it felt, the evening came to an end. I changed out of my wedding dress into my going-away outfit. The groomsmen had decorated our car with “Just Married, "and we said our goodbyes before driving off together, beginning our new life as husband and wife.
I thought it was a lovely wedding, it was perfect for us—full of love, family, and meaningful moments. And that, I have learned, is what truly matters.
One day, when you think about your own life and the moments that shape it, I hope you’ll remember that happiness comes from love and faith.
Love,
Mother
TELL ME ABOUT YOUR WEDDING DAY. WHAT HAPPENED? HOW DID YOU FEEL?
WERE YOU NERVOUS, SCARED, HAPPY?
This question comes from "A Father's Legacy."
Dear Laura,
I had been looking forward to my wedding day for quite some time. When I think back on it now, the word that best captures how I felt is anxious—but not in a bad way. It was the kind of nervous anticipation that comes when you know you are standing on the edge of something life-changing. I understood, even then, that this day would shape the rest of my life.
Your mother was keen on the idea that we should memorize or at least thoughtfully recite our vows rather than simply repeat them. I took that responsibility seriously, but I will admit, I worried about whether I might forget the words at the most important moment. Standing there, with all eyes upon us, I could feel my heart beating faster than usual. But when the time came, something settled within me. I remembered what I needed to say, and more importantly, I felt the meaning behind every word. That gave me a deep sense of relief and joy.
What I remember most clearly is not just the ceremony itself, but the feeling of being surrounded by people who loved and supported us. My closest friends and family were there, and that meant everything to me. My best friend, Skip Kinch, stood beside me as my best man, steady and encouraging. My first roommate, Mike Marcum, was there as well, standing up with me in quiet support. Seeing familiar faces in the crowd reminded me that I wasn’t stepping into this new chapter alone—we were both held up by a community of people who cared deeply about us.
Until that point in my life, the most significant milestones I had experienced were graduating from high school and then from college. Those were proud moments, and they represented accomplishment and growth. But as meaningful as they were, they did not compare to the depth and importance of the day I married your mother. That day was not just about achievement—it was about commitment, partnership, and love. It marked the beginning of a shared life, one that would eventually include you.
I was nervous, yes. I felt the weight of the promise I was making. But I was not afraid. More than anything, I was happy—truly happy—because I knew I was marrying the right person. There was a sense of peace underneath all the excitement, a quiet certainty that this was what was meant to be.
Looking back now, I can say without hesitation that it was the most important day of my life. It was the day our family truly began, even though you had not yet entered the picture. Everything that followed—every joy, every challenge, every memory we would go on to create together—can be traced back to that moment.
One day, when you reflect on the important decisions in your own life, I hope you will find that same sense of certainty and peace. Life will present you with many choices, but the ones rooted in love, respect, and commitment will always guide you in the right direction.
Love,
Father
The Honeymoon
WHERE DID YOU GO ON YOUR HONEYMOON?
DESCRIBE AT LEAST ONE HUMOROUS THING THAT HAPPENED TO YOU AND YOUR FATHER.
Dear Laura,
Your father, Sam, and I spent our honeymoon in a modest motel in Dallas. It was simple, but to us it felt like the beginning of something very special—a quiet place where we could begin our life together. We didn’t need anything fancy; we just needed each other and a sense of excitement about the future we were building.
Before I left Houston for the wedding, I picked up my final paycheck from my part-time job at Lease-A-Plane of Houston. I cashed it and carefully used that money to buy Christmas presents for Sam, my family, and my bridesmaids. I remember feeling proud that I could contribute in that way, even though it left me with very little for myself.
There was one important detail I hadn’t considered. My father never wore a wedding ring, and at that time, it wasn’t unusual for married men to go without one. So, it hadn’t even crossed my mind to buy a ring for Sam. Then, just the day before the wedding, I discovered that Sam did, in fact, want a wedding ring. That realization sent me into a bit of a scramble. I went to Northeast Mall and spent the very last of my money to buy him a ring. I didn’t hesitate—I wanted him to have something meaningful, just as I did.
Now here is the humorous part.
On Christmas Day—the very first day of our honeymoon—Sam decided he wanted to buy a newspaper. He casually asked if I had any change. Without thinking much about it, I handed him the last bit of money I had. And just like that, we began our married life with empty pockets! Looking back, it makes me smile. We didn’t have much money at all, but we had love, and somehow that was more than enough.
That same day, I also learned something else important about your father—he loved watching the Dallas Cowboys. He had already made it clear that he wanted to watch the Christmas Day game. So, there we were, newly married, sitting in the motel dining room watching football. At the time, I didn’t fully understand his enthusiasm, but I quickly realized it was something that mattered to him.
It wasn’t until you were born that I truly embraced the Dallas Cowboys myself. I turned those games into family events. I would prepare fun football foods, and we would all dress up in Cowboys attire. We cheered together, laughed together, and high-fived whenever they scored a touchdown. You grew up surrounded by that excitement, and it became part of our family traditions.
One evening during our honeymoon, we went out to see a movie—the James Bond film Diamonds Are Forever. The title felt perfectly fitting for newlyweds. We sat there together, enjoying the excitement of the film, but more than that, enjoying simply being side by side as husband and wife.
Later, when I began teaching and received my first real paycheck, I wanted to do something special for Sam. I bought him a new wedding ring with three diamonds. I had planned to pay for it outright, but Sam encouraged me to put it on credit so I could begin establishing credit in my own name. That small decision turned out to be an important lesson in building independence and planning for the future.
For our first anniversary, we took our first real trip together—to Monterrey, Mexico. We drove there, full of anticipation. My father, who was a pilot, had often spoken about Monterrey and its beautiful glass-blown artwork. I had my heart set on finding something special—particularly a set of wine glasses.
While we were shopping, I found the most beautiful golden glass-blown wine glasses I had ever seen. I wanted them immediately, but Sam suggested we wait and pick them up on the way back so we wouldn’t have to carry them around all day. It seemed like a sensible idea at the time. But when we returned, the store was closed. We told ourselves we would stop again before leaving town—but once again, the timing didn’t work, and the store wasn’t open.
I was disappointed, but I tried to let it go. When we got home, I told Daddy about the glasses. As it happened, he had a trip to Monterrey the very next week. And wouldn’t you know it—he brought back those very same golden wine glasses for us. It felt like such a thoughtful and loving gesture, and those glasses became even more meaningful because of the story behind them.
On that trip, Sam and I also bought a papier-mache bell to commemorate our first year of marriage. That simple souvenir became the beginning of a tradition. Each year, we added another bell to mark our anniversary. Over time, that small collection grew into something very special. We even had to enlarge the fireplace mantel to hold the bell collection. Today, we have fifty-four anniversary bells, each one representing a year of shared memories, challenges, laughter, and love.
Looking back, what I remember most is not how much we had, but how much we were building together—one small moment at a time. Our honeymoon may have been simple, even a little humorous in its own way, but it marked the start of a life filled with stories that would one day become part of your history, too.
Love,
Mother
WHERE DID YOU GO ON YOUR HONEYMOON?
DESCRIBE AT LEAST ONE HUMOROUS THING THAT HAPPENED TO YOU AND YOUR MOTHER.
Dear Laura,
After the excitement of our wedding ceremony and the joy of seeing so many friends and family at the reception, your mother and I were more than ready for a little quiet time together. We weren’t setting off on any grand adventure—at least not the kind you might read about in magazines. Life was simpler then, and so were our means.
Your mother had quit her job in Houston and did not yet have a job. She was young—still very much of college age—and I was a “young teacher,” just beginning my career and earning what you might kindly call a modest salary. We had love, optimism, and not much else in the way of money. But at the time, that felt like enough.
So instead of traveling far, we spent our honeymoon right nearby in Dallas, at a motel off Highway 75. It wasn’t fancy, but it was ours for those first few days of married life. Looking back, I think something was fitting about beginning our life together in such a simple way. It wasn’t about where we were—it was about being together.
Now, as for something humorous that happened—well, I have to admit this may tell you a little something about your father.
Our honeymoon happened to fall during football season in 1971, back when the Dallas Cowboys were having a strong year and had made it into the playoffs. For fans like me, that was a pretty big deal. As luck would have it, there was an important game scheduled the day after our wedding.
I remember very clearly wanting to watch that game. I don’t recall your mother sharing quite the same level of enthusiasm about spending part of our honeymoon watching football in the hotel dining room. In fact, I’m fairly certain she did not. Still, there I was, trying to keep one eye on the game and the other on my brand-new bride—probably not the best balance for a newly married man to strike.
Your mother, being as patient and good-natured then as she has always been, tolerated this with more grace than I probably deserved. Looking back, it makes me smile. It was one of those small, human moments that remind me how marriage is built—not just on romance, but on patience, compromise, and learning to laugh at each other’s quirks.
In the years since, I’ve often thought that our honeymoon was a pretty good beginning. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was real. It was the start of us figuring out life together—one small moment at a time.
Love,
Father