I never thought of just Dave, I always thought of Dave-and-Betty, like they were one person. They were inseparable. They were always together. Even in any room, it was rare to see them sitting where they were not side by side, usually with Dave’s big hand over hers. Even after decades of marriage, he treated her with constant courtesy as if it was their first date. No matter what was going on, he was aware of her. She was very small, and he was big, and it always seemed like he had his own invisible cloak of protection around her. She always looked at him like a lovestruck girl whose heart had been stolen. She was smitten.

I always got a kick out of watching Dave tell jokes not just because he was so good at it (which he was), but because it was fun to watch Betty. I was sure she’d heard him tell the joke a hundred times, but she’d listen raptly every time and laugh with genuine surprise like it was the first time she’d ever heard it. That was true devotion.

Dave was a storyteller and one of my favorite stories was about Betty. Dave loved to fish. He’d grown up hunting and fishing and there were many stories about the big bucks and big fishes, but I guess you could say this is about the one that got away. It got away from Betty, not from Dave.

Dave bought a little boat to take out on the lake whenever he felt like dipping his line. He liked the peace and quiet on the water. Dave suffered from PTSD and was always alert, always aware. It was a habit he couldn’t break, but he said that when he was out in the boat, he felt at peace.

One day Betty decided she wanted to go with him, so they bought her a new pole. Dave said it wasn’t a fancy pole. In fact, it was an inexpensive kid’s pole because he didn’t think Betty would want to spend a lot of days on the lake fishing, but he’d still have it when grandkids came.

The next day Betty packed up lunch and got her sun hat and sunscreen. Dave packed the tackle and a can of worms, and they launched the boat. He baited her hook with a big, fat juicy worm, handed the pole to her and told her to throw it out. She did just as she was told…to his utter astonishment. She threw out the whole, entire brand-new pole. Dave was, for a moment, speechless.

“Betty, why on earth did you throw out the whole pole?”

“That’s what you told me to do.”

Then came the second surprise. After a second or two, the pole bobbed up to the surface. Dave rowed over and they retrieved it. Dave referred to it as a “Betty-proof” pole.

The last time we talked, I asked if he still had the Betty-proof pole and he laughed at the memory. He said he hadn’t thought of it for years, but, yes, he still had it. I told him that my whole family of fishermen also now know the story and look for “Betty-proof poles.”