Old Flame Never Dies
Relationship born, then lost in couple's 20s renewed in their 70s
by Beth Skabar
"I've been waiting a long time for this," he says at the microphone, searching for her with his eyes. His two weathered hands, held straight, shoulder-width apart, widen slightly, as if holding the decades in the space between them.
From across the room, she chuckles. She knows what he means. The lifetime that has passed since it all began near the Innoko River.
Looking out into the audience, he repeats the sentiment.
"I've been waiting a long time to get a hold of her, you know?" he says, his voice echoing in the hall of the Moose Lodge.
She smiles, and at his invitation, makes her way to join him on the stage.
In the early 1950s, at a dance in Shageluk, Celene Woodford met a shy boy named Phillip Arrow. Celene was 17 or 18, Phillip one year her senior.
The two quickly became inseparable. They took long walks around the Innoko River. They took trips to fish with friends, leaving with boats full of whitefish that would take days to clean and prepare. They searched for bird eggs while listening to the ducks in the woods, one of their favorite pastimes. They loved to dance.
Celene's descriptions of those young years are magical, with beautiful grasses that sway in the wind, fields of shimmering flowers. They were in love.
"I loved everything about him," says Celene. She describes Phillip as "beautiful, kind, and considerate." The two went together for years enjoying a young romance until one day, another girl, one of Celene's cousins, caught Phillip's eye.
With tearful eyes and a ready fist, Celene said goodbye to Phillip with no words at all. She moved away from Shageluk in order to mend.
"It was really heart-wrenching," Celene says. "I hated to be apart but we had to be apart; I don't want to be on the same land he's on."
With this, the young romance ended. The two moved on with their lives. Celene married twice over the decades that followed, bearing 10 children. She traveled and lived in the Lower 48 until the '80s, when after watching her second husband die to colon cancer, she moved to Anchorage. She began working as a cook for Meals on Wheels and taking care of older women who were facing death.
Phillip was married for over 30 years, producing two children. He worked on the railroad for several years in the 1950s and then moved back to Shageluk.
In the fall of 2008, Phillip moved to Anchorage because of the rising cost of living in the village.
Not long after, Bernard John, a mutual friend, arranged a meeting and brought Phillip to Celene's apartment in Anchorage.
"I was scared to meet her again," says Phillip, remembering how things had ended once upon a time in Shageluk.
During the reunion, Celene was standoffish at first, refusing to make eye contact. Still hurt by the way things had ended in younger years, she greeted him with a small "hi."
After talking for awhile, the pain melted away and memories of younger days near the Innoko came rushing back, and the two couldn't stop talking. They talked about then, about now. About the 60 some years that they have been apart, and the lives they had lived in each other's absence.
That night, Bernard left, but Phillip stayed, and the two have not stopped talking since.
"We dance like children," says Celene, laughing. "We're even more in love than we were then."
She cooks him Native food: moose, fish, seal. He takes her dancing. They are, once again, inseparable.
"Now she's changing her name to Arrow, I'm really proud of that," Phillip says.
The two have been planning to wed for several months. The date has been changed several times, as there have been complications in paperwork and family has been in and out of town.
"I'm excited about my marriage," Celene says. "We're going to enjoy our life until we're gone. It's our golden years."
Halloween is an eventful night at the Moose Lodge in Anchorage. This evening, there is a fiddle dance scheduled, but at the moment, there is a children's Halloween program. Superman, clowns and witches play games and eat candy as Celene and Phillip arrive in their taxi cab.
Celene, 76, is dressed in a classic blue dressed darned with a shimmering silver scarf. She walks arm in arm with Phillip into the dance hall, who is wearing a button-down shirt and a tie. Both are anxious, on edge.
Nearly 60 years ago, they met at a dance. Tonight, they will wed at one.
"I'm nervous," says Phillip, 77, when I ask how he is. Celene makes him a plate of food, and the two eat together in a heavy silence as they wait for the ceremony to begin. Friends and family greet them with hugs.
Phyllis "Cookie" Chudocken, Phillip's niece will marry them tonight. She went to the court house recently to fill out marriage paperwork and pick up a marriage license for the couple.
"When I went to the court house and they asked for his name, I said, ‘Uncle… I mean...'" She laughed, "Sometimes I forget that he has a name."
One of Celine's relatives made and decorated a beautiful layered cake graced with roses.
As the ceremony begins, Phillip and Celene turn to one another, listening to the vows Cookie reads. A normally happy, laughing, relaxed couple is notably nervous, serious. They take turns reading their vows, both nervous, stiff, barely moving. They make eye contact sparingly. At the end of his vows, Phillip slides a ring onto Celene's finger. They kiss, twice. They are now husband and wife.
The audience greets the new couple, with hugs, congratulations, and gifts. A picture of Mary and baby Jesus, a quilt, a tea kettle. They are graciously thankful, seemingly surprised by the generosity of the audience.
The fiddle dance begins, and Celene and Phillip are on the dance floor for most of the night. Couples take turns inviting them out to dance separately when they are not dancing together.
They cut the cake, intertwine arms, and feed each other pieces of cake on forks. Phillip's drops onto Celene's chest. The two laugh, and try it again.
Toward the end of the night, Phillip takes the microphone.
"I've waiting a long time for this" he says, searching for her with his eyes. His two weathered hands, held straight, shoulder-width apart, widen slightly as if holding the decades in the space between them.
From across the room, she chuckles. She knows what he means, the lifetime that has passed since it all began near the Innoko River.
Looking out at the audience, he repeats the sentiment.
"I've been waiting a long time to get a hold of her, you know?" he says, his voice echoing in the hall of the Moose Lodge.
She smiles, and at his invitation makes her way to join him on the stage.
"I thank God for her," he says.
He puts his arm around her as she grabs the microphone.
"We will be forever happy now that we're together. We met when we were young, but our love is so much stronger now."