My name is Alison Dyke, and my husband and I have a wonderful love story to share. When we tell it, people often find it hard to believe—but they always agree it’s an amazing story.
Steve, my husband, and I both grew up in Mt. Lebanon. We attended Markham Elementary, Mellon Middle School, and Mt. Lebanon High School. We were a year apart, with Steve in the grade above me.
One warm day in 1983 or 1984, my friend and I were walking on the Markham ball field near the Beadling side, heading toward the back field. We saw a friend of ours from school sitting on his bike between two boys. I knew immediately they were the Dyke twins. We chatted quickly with our friend, but neither Dyke boy spoke to us. As we walked away, I turned to my friend and said, “Steve Dyke is the cutest boy ever.”
From then on, I would occasionally see him in the halls at Mellon and the high school. He never knew I existed, but I certainly knew him. My stomach would flip whenever I saw him, though no one ever knew. Steve was outgoing, and I was shy; my admiration remained my secret.
In 2004, I moved into a home at the end of Inglewood Drive. On the day we started moving in, my previous husband—who had also attended Markham, one grade ahead of Steve—was in the yard raking leaves. He said, “Guess who stopped by and heard we were moving in?” I didn’t know, so he added, “Steve Dyke.” My arms full of bags, I dropped them and asked him to repeat it. Steve’s parents lived around the corner, and his mom had told him that Markham alums were moving in. Steve lived up the street.
Six years later, our neighborhood planned a block party. Steve’s boys were raising money for a dunk tank and a bounce house. During that time, both Steve and I had gone through divorces for similar reasons. I was raising my two boys on Inglewood, and Steve was raising his three boys up the street. His boys came to my house and I happily contributed.
Steve coached my son in soccer one year, and I found his involvement very attractive.
The block party arrived on a dreary September day. My two boys and I attended, and I immediately wanted to try the dunk tank—but I hesitated. I saw Steve mingling in the crowd but didn’t approach. Standing near the dunk tank, I told my friend I wanted to go in. A voice said, “Then do it.” I turned to see Steve. I agreed, removed my shoes and insulin pump, and climbed in. I was dunked over and over while neighborhood kids cheered—probably the only adult who dared. We spoke again briefly before I headed home.
In December 2012, my parents had purchased a foosball table for my boys. I posted on Facebook about my concerns building it. Steve sent me a direct message asking if he could help. Shocked, I agreed. We spent hours putting it together two nights before New Year’s Eve and had a wonderful, organic conversation.
A few weeks later, Steve asked me out on a date via DM. Despite a snowstorm, we drove to Shadyside for our first date. We return to that same restaurant every year to commemorate it.
Steve and I were married in July 2022. We will soon celebrate our fourth anniversary. We live happily in the Markham area with two of our five boys and our beloved Chocolate Lab, Willow.
Steve often tells people that even though he didn’t know me in school, he will never forget me as the “girl in the dunk tank.” He says he found it very attractive.
We were always meant to find each other. It could have happened in 1983, 1985, or 1988—or anywhere in between—but it didn’t. We often wish it had, because then we could have loved each other longer.
This is not a wedding announcement, engagement, or bridal story. It is simply a true Lebo love story that we wanted to share.
If you have a “love story” to share (engagement, wedding, or anniversary) send information and photos to the Lebo Beat at lebobeat.com.
