Sunday, September 1, 2019

A Century Ago today. . .

Today as I was sitting at my kitchen table with a new month's planner I wrote... "Happy Anniversary, Gramma and Paw-paw." Then as I added the year, 1919... I realized that today is 100 years... and for some strange reason I got really excited and felt like calling someone to celebrate. But, you know. To those of us who honor ancestry and our loved ones from the past, these discoveries are quite exciting. However, since my immediate family is so small and includes only a son in his 30's, I am fairly certain he will just say with kind (and really kind) enthusiasm: "Oh, wow! Neat!" And that, my dear Scarlett, will be that. What really would I expect?


a Google Search just now gave me this news:

The Macon Republican (Macon Missouri) 08 Mar 1918


And somehow he ended up in Louisville Kentucky?

A few years ago I visited Louisville, KY, with my son. It was the site of a chance meeting between a young soldier and a young woman... I have written this here in the past, so today's post doesn't take us to my studio quite yet but to a little re-telling (and borrowing) of my favorite love story. Although both Gramma and Paw-paw are now in Heaven, I still think of them almost every day. Their chance meeting was definitely one of the most romantic stories I've ever heard. Gramma, a five foot, one inch little lady from Indiana, accompanied her new sister-in-law to an army camp in Kentucky to see her brother. The two young girls rode a camp trolley pulled by two bay horses through the rows upon rows of tents, trying to find the "street" where Uncle Vernis was bunked. Well, naturally, the girls disembarked a few rows too soon and were soon hopelessly lost. (CUE my grandfather, a tall, lanky boy from Missouri who was there leaning against a sign posted by the military.) Can't you imagine how thrilled he was to be the one they asked for directions. My gramma always blushed and giggled when she told how he led them victoriously to the tent, and then waited.... and waited.... and listened to their plans to go to a restaurant for dinner..... and then waited some more. Finally my uncle casually asked him if he would like to join them for supper.. Well, I guess he would!----and the rest was the history of a marriage that lasted from 1919 until 1971, his death.

Somewhere in this house (I so hope) is a photo of my grandfather in his uniform...  But oh, my heart sparkles when I see this one of my little son wearing it for a roaring 20's party over 30 years ago..



Most families have legends, tales they have nurtured and treasured through the years.  One of mine is this legendary love story between my mother's parents. My gramma always spoke the name of the town with a kind of preferential reverence.  This was "her" town, I thought...  Although our family has always been very close, very much a communicative one, the story of her marriage and engagement is still a bit obscure.  I ran across a treasure in the form of a diary or journal.  There on the pages of a little pink corduroy journal, in my gramma's perfect up and down spikey script, are the words of her love story. (Sadly, yes... that little pink corduroy journal is gone in that vandalism that haunts my current joy.)

A farm couple with hearts of gold... but I might be biased

Evidently they walked to the river, and there they fell in love... It's little wonder I became such a sap for romantic movies and happy endings, is it?

I am the little munchkin in this photo with them and Daddy

I have no story to fill the gap between that meeting and September 1, 1919, when my grandfather arrived in Centerpoint, Indiana, and he and Gramma caught a ride on the back of the mail hack in to town. There they were married by a Justice of the Peace with two coal haulers grabbed in off the street as witnesses. Hmmmmm. Does it seem to you all there must be a few hundred pages of their story missing? It's funny the actual meeting was told and retold, but the real story? Mum was the word for all of their lives. Oh, well. it matters not. Today marks 100 years from that secretive trip to town. I remember hearing they came back to her parents' home, and her brother rummaged through their papers, produced their marriage license and spilled the beans... Oh, Candace Valera (my great-grandmother's exquisite name!!!!), how your heart must have broken a little ---one hundred years ago today when your little daughter did this "brave yet audacious" thing!


I distinctly remember tom-foolery between Paw-paw and me for this photo of Daddy's birthday.



Have a lovely Labor Day... I am trying my luck with Chicken Teriyaki, stir-fry, rice and a baked sweet potato... (I know. Not a classic combo...)



Whimsy and Hugs!

3 comments:

Ginny Hartzler said...

To me, this is the beauty of blogging. When we have such stories, and not many people who would appreciate them, our blog friends DO! And read the stories avidly. And what a wonderful and colorful story, too! I am so sorry about the journal! But fortunately you have some photos.

Miss Merry said...

Why would they take a diary? It just boggles my mind - so angry with them.

I love those serendipity moments. I was working on my family tree and voila - my maternal great grandparents were married on my birthday! Or I guess I was born on their anniversary.

Or that we seem to have someone in every generation born on August 4.

How wonderful to think that one hundred years ago, this very same day, your grandparents were married. So sweet. What a great memory.



Dianna said...

What an interesting family story! I'm so glad you're writing it down for generations to come.