My grandparents were married 97 years ago on June 8, 1928. I was fortunate enough to be around them long enough to ask a million questions and sort of have a link to not only their past, but those of their parents. 

 Still, I wish I’d asked more questions.

I remember my grandmother telling me about her young life at home with her four sisters and two brothers. She also had five other half-siblings several years older. Her father PJ was the son of German immigrants and he ended up outliving three wives, fathering over 11 kids total.

My grandmother was 6 when her mother died. The youngest girls were first cared for by their older sister Della, who was also a school teacher. There was great affection for Aunt Della, as she had worked hard all her life, an attribute my family always admired: hard work.  

Grandma would talk about Della coming to the house to bathe the little ones and how she made sure they washed well. I remember her talking about how Della would take “great big towels and make sure we were scrubbed clean and dry after a bath.” Della put her own life on hold to care for her baby sisters.

Only a few years later, PJ brought a lady named Lucy home, and this lady was to be the girl’s stepmother. Lucy had grown daughters and married into an instant family full of older kids, teenagers, and little ones. As you may guess, this selflessness endeared Lucy to the family, and she was a much loved addition to the family.

Grandpa, on the other hand, was a prankster from way back and that gene was passed down to the generations. He’d be amazed at his great-grandchildren and their hijinks. I often heard stories of Grandpa and his brother Gib scurrying home in front of their parents, russlin’ up the chickens and prompting their father to think he had to get the shotgun and look in the barnyard for a fox.  

Stories of their dating life fascinated all of us, mainly because they did their courting in a horse and buggy in the early 1920s.  They also told stories of deep, deep snow that covered the fence posts and of taking sleigh rides.  I heard stories of the tiny village they all lived in, of church socials and pie suppers.  There were funny stories about walking to school and snooty cousins who lived up the road.  

When Aunt Della taught my Grandpa (her future brother-in-law), she told about how he would “bawl and bawl” in school, and how she’d let him sit next to his older sister, Aunt Goldie. 

Stories about Goldie would take another column, I’m afraid.

When my grandparents decided to get married, there were no elaborate festivities or fanfare.  By this time, Grandpa had purchased a Model A and the two of them drove to the county courthouse to make it official. Grandpa wore his only suit with one of those beanie style  caps, and Grandma had a stylish 1920s style hat on with a fancy coat with a fur collar.  

The two of them posed for a picture outside the courthouse with their arms around one another, but neither of them were smiling for some reason. Grandpa was 22 and Grandma was 18.

I think about both of them often and of course, I’ve written about them often. Their stories and really, tales of a simple life, inspired me a lot. I wonder quite a bit what they’d have to say about their great-grandchildren or where we all have wound up. 

To think that their marriage was nearly 100 years ago is a bit mind-blowing.

Since not much in life seemed to surprise them or get them riled up, I’m thinking they’d react to what we are all doing now with smiles and head nods, not saying much but still able to let us know they cared for us and enjoyed knowing about our lives.  I’ve imagined, often, how my grandpa would aggravate the boys and marvel at their red hair. I think about how my grandmother would constantly tell my daughters how pretty they were and be delighted watching them do gymnastics and dance recitals.

Perhaps they really are watching and smiling. 

 I’d like to think so.