Curtis and Sanae Martin celebrated their 30th wedding anniversary in July. That, in itself, would be an achievement. But the longevity of this Torrance couple is even more impressive considering that on the eve of their engagement, they were complete strangers.
As members of the Unification Church, the Martins had committed to marrying whomever the Rev. Sun Myung Moon, their spiritual leader, chose for them during an elaborate matchmaking ceremony and agreed to forgo a traditional wedding for a mass blessing in Madison Square Garden with thousands of other couples.
In our soul mate-smitten culture, it's hard to imagine anyone giving up the fairy-tale wedding or spontaneous thrill of falling in love.
But after meeting Curtis and Sanae at a local coffee shop to hear their story, I start to wonder why we do it any other way.
They came from different parts of the world to New York City shortly after the Rev. Moon announced the matching opportunity. Curtis, 24, flew from a small college town in Florida where he'd been working for the campus ministry. Sanae, 28, traveled from her home in Brazil.
With no way of knowing how fate would bring them together, they arrived at the New Yorker Hotel, where the ballroom was packed with hundreds of other hopeful singles ready to participate in the three-day matchmaking session.
Curtis arrived before Sanae and spent the first day observing the process, too timid to volunteer for a bride. From early morning until well past dark, the Rev. Moon moved among the crowd, calling forth suitors willing to marry women from opposite ends of the world, often with no shared language or common customs. These matched marriages are central to Unificationists, who believe the deliberate mixing of races, cultures and nationalities can bring about world peace.
"Our marriage isn't just for us. It's a commitment we make to heal the world in a very personal way," Curtis said.
On the second day, Curtis realized there weren't enough women to go around. If he was going to find his life mate in this room, he'd need to step up. So he volunteered. The reverend rejected him, saying he was too young. Curtis volunteered again. Rejected again. And a third time. Rejected.
By this time, Sanae had arrived. A translator introduced the Japanese women from Brazil and Curtis thought, "If it's not this, it's nothing." He stepped up to take a bride. This time, it was a match.
Curtis and Sanae, complete strangers now bound to wed, left the ballroom to get to know each other. Sanae spoke Portuguese. Curtis spoke English. They exchanged information about each other in broken Spanish. At the end of the engagement ceremony, they boarded separate planes back to their hometowns. They spent the next few years writing each other letters and calling. Curtis took a Portuguese class. Sanae moved to New York.
It would be another two years before they married in a mass blessing with 2,000 other couples. "People like a big wedding, and we had the biggest wedding," Curtis said. "You can't beat Madison Square Garden for a wedding chapel."
My initial mystification with the arranged marriage concept began to fade as I spent time with the Martins. The two of them are easy with each other. Curtis nudges Sanae affectionately and calls her his best friend.
They've had their ups and downs but no more, it seems, than any other couple. On their unique start, Curtis provides advice well suited for any married couple: "You don't fall in love with somebody. You learn to love somebody by investing in that person."
I leave the Martins and go home to my husband, whom I met in the typical fashion. But Curtis' words linger. Even though our circumstances are different, I make a silent promise to invest in my husband, to work hard at our family, and to be nice to strangers.
Because you never know when fate might bring you together.