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On Aug. 10, 1946, at the bride's home in Douglas, Ga., with World War II and the groom's naval service behind him, Emily Cottingham, succeeded in the nuptial capture of her boyfriend, Bob Stuart, whom she had met as college students some six years before.

It had been a slow dance with intermissions for graduate school and World War II. Stationed at Pearl Harbor, Bob had received a "cheesecake" photo from Emily, one that found a place in the family archives, and which was a reminder to Bob of the exciting future they might have together.

Eight months after the war's end, the tempo of their two-step increased and the couple married. They jitterbugged across the map for Bob to earn a master's degree from the University of North Carolina and to get jobs in Knoxville, Tenn.; Atlanta; Evanston, Ill.; Albany, N.Y.; and Cleveland. The couple finally waltzed into Blacksburg in 1969 with 20-year-old daughter Mary and 15-year-old son Rob, ready for the jobs of their dreams: Bob's teaching urban planning at Virginia Tech and Emily's heading up Tech's YMCA.

Although a friendship had developed when they were thrown together as graduate students on the UNC campus, Bob credits his bringing along jump ropes on their walks that "entranced" Emily and coaxed her away from her then-Harvard beau. She concedes his creative courting approach was endearing.

At what would prove to be a defining moment in their lives, the young undergraduates met at the Southern Student Conference of the YM/YWCAs. He had come from Emory University in Georgia where he was majoring in social studies, and she from her sociology studies at Duke University in North Carolina. A beautiful hike is what they remember about their brief interaction, but, they said, the values they came away with included a deepening of their spiritual lives that molded their future.

This partnership celebrated 65 years of marriage this month. Many describe their home of 40 years on Lynwood Lane as a matrix from which has fledged new ideas, new lives and new commitment to community-building.

The door to their shed of garden tools as well as the door into their basement are also places of access where new lives are forged. They are hard-pressed to remember the dozens of people who have found refuge in their space, but Emily can name every person she has gardened with.

Bob told Emily before marriage that he would never help in the garden, but he still hauled in endless truckloads of manure over the years. Emily mentored "master gardeners" there before the label became well-known.

Retired anthropologist and sociologist Helen Lewis -- known as the Mother of Appalachian Studies for her development and fostering of Appalachian Studies curricula in colleges and universities throughout the region -- is writing a book about her experience as a student at Georgia State College for Women, where Emily was the director of the YWCA.

Lewis said Emily's leadership helped create a radical change in student thinking regarding civil rights during the 1950s. Bob says his wife "kindled" the spirits of the young women there. Emily said her opinion then and now has been that "loving God means more than being religious and going to church." Lewis said there was no better organizer of people.

The study of their home reveals endless citations of thanks from the organizations of which the two have been members. Less well-known may be their dual memberships in the League of Women Voters, their 40 years with the NAACP, their founding memberships with the Community Foundation, and countless hours volunteering with their church, the Human Relations Council and Voluntary Action.

To come upon the couple practicing their ballroom dancing in their kitchen, to catch sight of Bob in his ancestral tartan kilt, to share a hike, a meal, a prayer, or to hear Bob's story of courting Emily with jump ropes, is to gain a small view of what makes them such an extraordinary pair.