A Love Worth Fighting For
Submitted by Terry Swan ’77
My Centenary years certainly rank among the very happiest of my life. Every couple of years I find a way to come back through Shreveport so I can spend a few hours on Centenary's beautiful campus, walk the grounds, and reminisce. I received a great education, made lifelong friends, and answered my call to Methodist ministry. I had never been on a private college campus before Centenary and ended up serving for a lifetime as a dean and professor at a UMC-related college much like my alma mater.
In fall of my senior year, I met Cinda Johnston a sophomore transfer student. We went out on our first date on October 8 and because I'm a patient guy, I waited all of 12 weeks of dating to ask her to marry me on a moonlit night in the James Dorm.
She said “yes,” and I discovered the scenic Centenary campus was a wonderful place for a courtship. While Cinda had agreed to marry me, she also mentioned her father was from the old school where it would be best to honor him by asking for his blessing. He was a civil engineer building a dam in Guatemala at the time. I sat down in my room in Rotary Dorm to compose the most important letter of my life. With my best handwriting, I informed him how I was a responsible guy about to graduate from Centenary and then had several years of grad school yet ahead. I sent him a planned budget. I told him I loved his daughter very much and asked for her hand in marriage. I sent the letter off at our campus post office with a prayer as it would travel a couple thousand miles to Central America.
It took about a month before I got a reply. I remember retrieving the letter at the Centenary post office and wondering what he'd say. I opened it right there expecting an immediate blessing from him. I did not get it. It was written in rather formal language (I still have the letter). He addressed me as Mr. Swan and informed me that his daughter was the apple of his eye and that he had raised her right. Then the letter took an unusual tangent. He went on to say how his international employment had led him to live and work in many countries, most recently the nation of Turkey. He described a bridal custom there that could best be described as a reverse dowry of sorts. For a very special prized bride, it became incumbent upon the family of the groom to provide a fair exchange. The going rate for a daughter like his would be about seven camels. The letter ends there. Mr. Johnston did not give me permission to marry his daughter. I'm sitting on the Centenary College campus in Shreveport wondering where I would ever find seven camels in Louisiana. I decided to walk over to the Safeway store, three blocks away and I purchased four boxes of Barnum & Bailey circus animal crackers. I found seven unbroken animal cracker camels, wrapped each one in a lot of tissue and put them in a cardboard box. I also enclosed a brief note which essentially said, "Mr. Johnston, here are your seven camels. May I please marry your daughter?" I mailed the box to Guatemala. In a month I got back a reply. This time the salutation was to “Terry” (much less formal), and the spirit of the letter was upbeat. I still have that letter. "You're poor, but you have a good sense of humor, Terry. You have permission to marry Cinda. See you at the wedding. Love, DAD."
We had our lovely wedding in the Brown Chapel on graduation weekend surrounded by 200 of our family and friends. I was allowed to miss the graduation ceremonies by the dean, who in a letter excusing me for our honeymoon, said he would never stand in the way of Cupid.
How could one not love a place like that? Thanks so much Centenary!
Drs. Terry & Cinda Swan
