THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, June 2, 1996 TAG: 9605290053
SECTION: REAL LIFE PAGE: K1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY KRYS STEFANSKY, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: 136 lines
DABBING ON eye shadow at the bathroom sink, Donna Sundin gets one more reminder that her husband is still a romantic guy after 20 years of marriage - the kind who'd call up a radio station from half a world away to request a love song.
Stretched across her parents' water bed, eyes glued to the dial, the Sundins' daughter, Cynthia, waits.
And then there it is. ``Happy anniversary to Donna and Drew Sundin,'' croons the evening deejay.
``They did it, Mom,'' hollers the 17-year-old.
Donna blinks once and keeps getting ready. She's dressed in a green jumpsuit her husband picked out. Her long auburn hair, just permed, is fixed in a fluffy style Drew would like. She's wearing his anniversary gift to her, contacts, no glasses.
It's a practical present, one she asked for. His style tends more toward the 18 red roses he gave her two years ago with one yellow rose for the year to come or the 19 diamonds in a ring he surprised her with last year.
She stretches out her hand. In the center of the ring are two more stones, his birthstone and hers.
``I've talked to him twice today,'' she says. ``The first time he sounded kind of down. Then all day long he's been on an emotional high. He said it's hard to think that we've been together this long.''
Together 20 years. But not tonight.
Sometimes life, like marriage, isn't a fairy tale. Sometimes couples aren't together on their anniversaries, no matter how much they'd like to be.
Tonight the Sundins won't share any lingering kisses, any slow dances, any walks in the moonlight. She's here, in Virginia Beach, about to celebrate her marriage with friends. He's in the Mediterranean with a ship full of sailors on the aircraft carrier George Washington.
All day, they've each thought about how they got this far. About how they beat the odds.
``We met my freshman year in high school in Orlando, Florida,'' says Donna. ``We had the same English class.''
She teased him, they fell in love, a judge married them. She was 15, he was 18. The first of four babies was on the way.
``What gets me is that people don't give teen-agers credit for knowing what they want and being able to hold on to what they want,'' she says, lighting another in a string of Marlboros. A portrait of her husband, a handsome, dark-haired senior chief in military dress blues, looks at her from across the room. His Valentine's Day roses to her, petrified by now, sit nearby.
Drew joined the Navy and went out on his first cruise right after their wedding. His teen-age wife got a rough initiation into the service. She had moved in with her parents after their son, Drew Jr., was born. She kept going to school, had a job, but her mother had cancer, and little Drew was admitted to the hospital with whooping cough all during that first cruise. Her dad told her she was under too much pressure and had to quit something. She quit school. Drew was upset when he got word.
``He had dropped out, too, but got his diploma at sea. It took me a little longer. I was bound and determined I'd get mine before my kids got theirs,'' she says. She did, about 16 years later.
The Sundins' marriage is like many in the Navy - marked by separations, by duty stations in different parts of the world, by babies born nine months after joyful home-port reunions.
Along the way, life always seemed to remind Donna that her marriage had gotten off to an early start.
``One year we were in Seattle and Drew took me to the Space Needle. It must have been on our fourth or fifth anniversary. I ordered a drink and got carded and wasn't old enough. Here I had two kids at home and I couldn't have a drink on my anniversary,'' she said, laughing.
Scarcely two years after Drew Jr., there came Cynthia, then Krystal, 14, and Tabetha, 12. Donna and Drew adjusted to every child, to every military move, to every change of orders.
Until last summer when the crew of Drew's ship was preparing for another six months at sea.
``We almost got a divorce last year,'' says Donna, lighting another cigarette. The stress of another long separation loomed. It seemed the couple's luck and love had run out.
But then, in October, during several weeks of training at sea, Drew wrote a poem and and sent it to Donna.
``He's always written me poetry. This one was called `Would You Marry Me Again?' '' she says.
His proposal worked. The whole family drove to the Shenandoah Valley and Drew and Donna renewed their vows in a church this past New Year's Eve.
Donna wore a white gown she had bought in secret. Their son gave her away. And in front of everybody, Drew read the poem that brought them back together.
A couple of weeks later, Drew left on this six-month cruise. Since then, in cards and letters and on the phone, they've told each other their marriage feels back on track.
Monday on the week of their anniversary, Donna got a poem in the mail that Drew wrote to mark the event. It reads, in part, ``I've run this globe from here to there, going on twenty years. And every time I've left you with your eyes so full of tears. But there's one thing that I leave behind each and every time we part. It's the same thing that I gave to you, and that, my dear, is my heart.''
It was a high point in a week that had more than the usual ups and downs.
``It's been one thing after another with these kids,'' Donna says.
No wonder Drew's letters are starting to fray.
``I keep them here in the nightstand. When I get to feeling bad, I take them out and reread them all,'' she says.
Tuesday, Drew Jr. packed his bags, including his mother's anniversary card to his dad. New to the Navy, he headed out to his father's ship for his first cruise.
Wednesday, Donna waited for word at the hardware store where she is cashier that she'd have the day off on her anniversary.
Then yesterday, on Thursday, while she was being fitted for her contacts, her middle daughter had an asthma attack so severe she was taken from school to the hospital by ambulance. Donna was up until almost 4 a.m.
She feels that she deserves a night out.
The phone rings at 5:03 p.m.
``Daddy!'' shrieks Cynthia, ``Yes, she's getting ready. She's got her jumper on. She looks weird without her glasses. She still looks real pretty, just weird. I love you, Dad.''
In a near whisper, Donna talks to her husband one last time today.
``Sleep tight. I love you, too, baby,'' she says after a soft, eight-minute conversation. She hangs up and heads for the door.
``He says, `You go out and have a good time. You know I'm right there with you.' '' ILLUSTRATION: VICKI CRONIS/The Virginian-Pilot color photos
Donna Sundin prepares to go out with friends to celebrate her 20th
wedding anniversary. Her husband, Drew, is in the Mediterranean Sea
aboard the aircraft carrier George Washington.
Sundin rubs her new contact lenses, an anniversary gift from her
husband, as she talks to him by phone. Beside her is their daughter
Cynthia, 17.
PHOTOS BY VICKI CRONIS/The Virginian Pilot
Donna Sundin, left, checks her makeup for her night out, while her
daughter Cynthia helps prepare a cosmetic brush.
At an optician's office, Sundin tries on a set of contact lenses,
her 20th anniversary gift from her husband. by CNB