Celebrating the couples who’ve made love last and the wisdom they’ve gained along the way.

Sue and Troy Schlotz

Sue and Troy Schlotz grew up in the same city attending different high schools, Troy at Jefferson City High School and Sue at Helias Catholic High School. They knew of each other the way people do in a small town, by name and face, but their paths didn’t cross in any meaningful way. That changed when Troy’s brother began dating Sue’s sister, and their families slowly intertwined. As wedding festivities approached, so did Sue and Troy’s first real spark.

At the celebration, however, they weren’t each other’s dates. In fact, Sue had a steady boyfriend at the time, though she admits he was far less fun than Troy. They danced, they laughed, and something shifted. When Troy later heard through Sue’s sister that she was no longer seeing the other man, he didn’t hesitate. He asked her out, and as Sue put it, “The rest is history.”

They began dating in March of 1984. Troy was a student at the University of Missouri then, building a life he hoped would include her. By that summer, he knew. He proposed, and in November of 1985, just after they turned 23, they married, blending two families into one.

Their wedding day held a moment Sue treasures even now: Troy sang to her. Music had always been part of him, and he chose “The Chair” by George Strait as their song. He sang it again on their 30th anniversary in Nashville, Tennessee, and again at their 40th anniversary; his voice has aged, but the sentiment is unchanged.

Life moved fast for the Schlotzes. They worked long hours, Troy sometimes holding two jobs and both of them working 14-hour days. Laughter became the thread that held everything together, and it is still their greatest shared strength, despite having opposite personalities. Sue is steady and conservative; Troy is bold, energetic, and sometimes over the top. But they balance each other. She reins him in, and he pulls her out of her shell. Every five years or so, they throw a large, themed party; and Troy always pushes the limits, from using elaborate decorations to building a 1,200-square-foot dance floor in their backyard. Sue handles the practical side of things.

They moved into their current home 22 years ago. There, they made memories filled with family, inside jokes, and the comedy lines they love quoting. Once, when Troy was struggling with Christmas lights, Sue called him “Clark,” and the two laughed like teenagers. Their relationship has never been about perfection, just shared humor.

The family they’ve built together is their proudest joy. Their daughter Kelsi arrived first, followed by their son Kyle. Because Troy and Sue’s siblings were married, the Schlotz extended family soon became something very unique. Their kids all behaved like siblings. The girls are stair-stepped in age: 39, 38, 37, and the boys are both 36.

“They’re very close double first cousins,” Sue says.

With their children came the joys of following them through sports and hobbies. When Kelsi played volleyball, they became volleyball coaches. When Kyle joined Boy Scouts, Troy became a Scout leader. When their son-in-law had a softball game, they showed up at the field. “Whatever the kids are doing, that’s what we are doing,” Troy says.

Their three granddaughters, Wrenn, age 8; Emery, age 5; and Rhae, age 4, have added even more light. They keep the couple active three days a week as the house is filled with little voices and energy. They even have “adopted daughters,” their daughter’s friends who grew up calling Sue and Troy mom and dad. For the Schlotzes, family was something they built with intention.

Along the way, they have also shown generosity to those in need. Without coordinating, they have each given money to a hard-working young woman at a local convenience store, one for her gas and the other for her school books simply because she needed it. That is simply who they are.

When asked the secret to their four decades together, they didn’t hesitate to share: laughter, patience, and forgiveness. They end every day with a hug and every phone call with “I love you”, even on the hard days. They don’t raise their voices. They don’t hold grudges. And, they always, always show up for each other. Looking back, they would tell their newlywed selves simply, “You’re going to be fine.”

“We’ve had a lot of tragedy, but we’ve also had a lot of laughter,” Troy says. “Forty years later, we’re still cracking each other up.”

They are not wealthy, they say, but they are rich in family, in friendships, in laughter, and in the life they have built side by side. If their children take anything from their story, Troy hopes they know, “We’ve enjoyed the ride.”

Sue agrees. After a lifetime of shared love, they still choose each other. Though Sue doesn’t think they need a big celebration, Troy is already planning their 50th anniversary, in a large fashion, of course.

Carla and Steve Ahrens

Carla and Steve Ahrens like to say they grew up together because, in every meaningful way, they did. Their story began in the 6th grade, when Steve arrived in Marshfield, Missouri, after his family relocated from Rochester, Minnesota. The transition was jarring. On his first day, the teacher discovered he already knew the lessons in their shared textbook. She put him to work helping other students.

Eventually, Carla noticed the new boy in her classes. Their families became friends through church, and the two children fell easily into the same circle. Carla remembers Steve’s reluctance about the move, but she also remembers that she liked him. Steve, for his part, thought Carla was out of reach.

“She’s always been very popular,” he says, still teasing decades later.

They stayed friends for years before finally testing the waters of romance as freshmen in high school. That first attempt lasted a few

months before teenage life pulled them in different directions. But by their junior year, fate nudged them together again, this time at a New Year’s Eve party. They shared a kiss at midnight, and something settled into place. Carla jokes that she was his New Year’s kiss, though Steve admits he had been trying to get as many kisses as he could. Still, the one that mattered was hers.

They dated through their final years of high school, and in a bold and rare choice, even for that time period, they got married during their senior year. They were young, but they were surrounded by families who believed wholeheartedly in them. That support, Carla says, made all the difference.

“I just didn’t ever really think it wouldn’t work,” she says.

Their journey took them from Marshfield to Jefferson City 41 years ago, when Steve was offered a job by Roy Blunt, their former high school American History teacher whose political career had taken off . Steve initially hesitated, unsure about leaving their home and unsure about the work, but Carla didn’t hesitate. Steve’s parents even helped make the transition possible, buying their house to ease the move. It became a family decision, and in Jefferson City, the Ahrens family grew. Their first two daughters had been born in Marshfield; the next two were born in their new hometown.

Today, their daughters, Libby, Jenny, Stephanie, and Alyssa, span 18 years in age, and the family has expanded to six grandchildren, all living within Missouri. From Special Olympics events to college milestones and sleepovers to holidays, Carla and Steve have been deeply woven into their grandchildren’s lives, just as their own parents were woven into their children’s lives. They speak gratefully of the help their parents offered when they were young, often insisting on taking the girls so the couple could enjoy a date night or vacation. Now retired, Carla and Steve happily offer that same gift to their daughters.

Their careers spanned decades of public service and leadership. Carla built a distinguished path in risk and insurance management, ultimately serving as the State of Missouri’s risk manager before working remotely for a nonprofit in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Steve spent 15 years with the state, primarily in the Secretary of State’s office, and later served 25 years as executive director of the Missouri Propane Gas Association.

Over the years, they have seen all 50 states and, more recently, ventured abroad. Their 50th wedding anniversary in November 2025 was spent exactly how they wanted: traveling the Rhine River on a Viking cruise and then celebrating with dinner high above London at The Shard. It was a quieter celebration than they once imagined, but perfect nevertheless.

When asked their secret, both laugh. Steve claims he’s still waiting for someone to tell him the secret. Carla, more reflective, believes it comes down to humor and grace.

“You’ve got to have humor in your life,” she says.

When stress arises, it isn’t long before they find themselves laughing. They give each other grace, acknowledging that life isn’t easy but believing wholeheartedly that it’s been worth every moment. They raised their daughters with the belief that to be good parents, they had to first nurture their relationship as a couple. They continue to live that truth today, traveling, taking weekend getaways, and enjoying the slow freedom of retirement. Their cat, Boots, waits patiently at home, often cared for by a granddaughter when they’re on the road.

Their family traditions shifted as their daughters formed families of their own, but the Ahrens still gather the Saturday after Thanksgiving for brunch and stockings, and Christmas Eve service remains an important part of the holiday. When everyone can come together, they do. When they can’t, Carla and Steve understand because they know exactly how difficult combining schedules can be. Fifty years in, they see clearly how much they’ve changed.

“There have been multiple versions of us,” Steve says.

They’ve grown up, grown older, and grown together. Looking back, they feel lucky. Looking forward, they feel hopeful: imagining future anniversaries, future trips, future moments of joy with their family.

“I’m the most blessed guy in the world,” Steve explains. “I keep thinking my autobiography would be titled, ‘Lucky Man.’”

And Carla? She saw Steve for the wonderful person he is long before he ditched his dorky, thick black glasses in elementary school, and she still sees him for his big heart today.

Rita and Wilfred Grothoff

For Rita and Wilfred Grothoff, love did not begin with a cinematic moment. It began, instead, with an ordinary Saturday night in 1955 at a community dance in Taos, Missouri, where neighbors gathered and music filled the air. It was the kind of place where stories quietly began, often without anyone realizing it. For the Grothoffs, that night became the first step of a 67-year journey.

Rita and her parents arrived at Wilfred’s house before the dance to visit with Wilfred’s family. While Rita expected to be dropped off at the dance later that night, Wilfred’s mother had different plans. Instead of Rita riding with her parents, she was sent to the dance with Wilfred and his brothers. Rita sat in the back seat next to the youngest brother on the way there, unaware that the man behind the wheel would someday be her husband.

At the dance, Wilfred and Rita shared a few songs on the dance floor. When the night ended and she rode back with him, something simple but unmistakable had begun.

They agreed to meet again the next Saturday and then the next, week after week, dance after dance. Wilfred didn’t even know where Rita lived at fi rst; there were no phones, just rural roads and determination. On his way to pick her up, he stopped at houses along the way asking neighbors, who would point him “a little farther down the road.” Then he finally found her.

Their courtship lasted from February to August in 1955, but its rhythm changed dramatically when Wilfred left for military service. He spent a year and a half in Korea, then more time training in Louisiana as a jeep driver for the National Guard. Distance could have diminished them, but instead it bound them more tightly. Rita wrote every day, so consistently that Wilfred couldn’t recall another soldier at mail call who received letters as faithfully as he did.

When Wilfred was stationed in Louisiana, he called Rita every payday. At a time when soldiers made about $60 a month, he spent nearly $40 on long-distance calls. Piece by piece, conversation by conversation, they built a bond that distance could not weaken.

Wilfred returned home in August after three years in the military. He gave Rita a ring that Christmas. Less than a year later, on May 24, 1958, they were married in Wardsville. It was a big wedding, the kind where neighbors cooked, relatives filled every room, and rain made parking so difficult that neighbors had to shuttle guests back and forth. Rita’s older sister, Dorothy, baked their wedding cake. They settled into marriage with the same practicality that had guided their courtship. They lived with Rita’s parents for two years while building the home they still live in, one filled with stories worn into its walls.

Their lives grew quickly. Three sons arrived: Randy, Darryl, and Brian. The house became busier still when Rita began babysitting. Summers often meant 15 to 20 children at once, 10 by license, plus the extras allowed because they were relatives or after-school kids. Rita made wedding cakes between feedings and diaper changes, often giving the children “cake sandwiches” made from the trimmed tops and icing. The kids would sit under the tree in the backyard, eating them as if it were the greatest treat in the world.

Family remained at the heart of everything. When Rita’s father died in 1980, her mother moved in and stayed for nearly 30 years. The daycare children adored her, and so did the family’s beloved German Shepherd, Duke, who stationed himself beside her chair like her loyal shadow. He was part of their circle, another gentle guardian. Every evening the daycare children would pat the dog goodbye, sometimes kissing him on the head.

The Grothoffs’ marriage deepened not through extravagance but through daily faithfulness.

“Just be good to each other and pray together,” Rita says as advice to other couples.

“Treat each other well,” Wilfred adds.

Across nearly seven decades, they remain steady. Their sons and daughters-in-law have grown into their support system, helping with groceries, medicines, chores, and the constant flow of family gatherings. Thanksgiving and Christmas bring around 40 people to the house: children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Tables stretch across the kitchen, kids’ tables pop up wherever space allows, and the house fills with laughter. Rita and Wilfred often say they are “rich in family,” the kind of wealth that does not fade.

Even after 67 years of marriage, they still make time to dance together. Country music remains their favorite, and one of the latest songs they’ve danced to was Garth Brooks’ “The Dance,” a fitting reminder of their journey: one step at a time, through joy and difficulty, through youth and old age.

When asked if they have anything to say to their family, they offer words simple and sincere.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Rita says. “Thank you for the decorated kitchen, for the food stacked in the refrigerator, for everything done around the house.”

Most of all, they’re thankful for the love that surrounds them daily.

“We wouldn’t be here in this home today without our family,” Wilfred says. “We’d be in a nursing home somewhere.”

Instead, they remain where their story began, building a life together, opening their doors to generations, and still choosing each other. Their love is a dance that has truly never ended.