Diamond Anniversary: Romance & Reality

Today, my parents celebrate their diamond anniversary (that's 60 years, folks). That is a very long time. They have been married through eleven presidents, seven popes, and far more important to them: two kids, five grandkids and nineteen homes.

They are very much of The Greatest Generation. They were born & raised in Minnesota and grew up during the Depression. Dad joined the Marines in September of 1941, finishing Boot Camp in time for Pearl Harbor. He spent most of the war in California and North Carolina ~ the year-and-a-half in Samoa he downplays. He wanted to be a fighter pilot, instead he maintained runways. He says he's not really war vet because he never saw combat. I disagree, he was in easy roundtrip distance of the Japanese base in Kiribati and it is a reasonable assumption that American pilots (and their postwar progeny) consider him a vet and appreciate his service. Mom spent the war in a small farm town and probably suffered as much privation as Dad. She didn't have to worry about being bombed, but she had no luxuries like indoor plumbing.

Ruth & Frank's wedding day.

Mom graduated on D-Day and promptly moved to Minneapolis. Dad was discharged and went to LA to drive streetcars. A few years later, Dad moved back to Minneapolis and attended the University of Minnesota. About the same time, Mom moved to San Francisco. Towards the end of the Korean War, Dad joined the Navy. Home on leave, he met a girl at a party who suggested he look her up if was ever in Frisco. Then the Navy sent him around the world.

Come spring, his ship returned to the US and stopped for a week in San Francisco. Finally, they were in the same city at the same time. Frank called the girl, who had started dating someone in the meantime. The girl convinced her roommate to show the sailor around town. At last, Frank met Ruth. They began dating. Ruth moved back to Minneapolis and the Navy sent Frank to DC. Romance progressed quickly, they met in late spring and by September, Frank called Ruth to propose. They married in December and headed to Washington and their first home together.

In time, they lived in Virginia, Florida, Maine, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Arizona, Illinois & Minnesota. They drove up and down the Eastern Seaboard more times than they could count. Their first child was born while Dad was thousands of miles away. Mom battled cancer. Dad finished his stint in the Navy and enlisted in the Coast Guard. Suddenly, they were living together more than they were apart. Dad kept getting transferred; Mom kept packing & unpacking the household. But now, for the first time, they could be together for extended periods.

In Hawaii, after their twentieth anniversary.

They moved. And moved. Adopted a child. Bought a house. Got transferred. Moved again. Then Dad retired from the Coast Guard and they moved to Minnesota. And never moved again. (Kidding ~ eight homes after the military.) They bought a house and settled down. They got jobs and raised their kids. They joined the American Legion and the VFW. They studied ballroom dancing. We travelled on vacations. None of my friends did that. But the peripatetic years had left their mark, my parents wouldn't settle for the same four walls day after day.

In Canada, about twenty years ago.

They've never stood still. In their fifties, they joined a hiking club, an RV club and ~ to the extreme horror of their adolescent daughter ~ took up square dancing. They took vacations without the kids (also something no one else did in the early eighties). For over twenty years they wintered in Arizona.  And they kept traveling. A year-and-a-half ago, we went to South Carolina for my uncle's birthday. This past summer, it was the South Dakota border for a 70th high school reunion. They don't travel alone anymore, but they still get out and do things.

Between them, there have been four cancers, a pacemaker, a permanent catheter and several other medical delights. The morning Mom got her pacemaker, Dad poured her a cup of coffee before remembering she was in the hospital. Mom gets him to all his doctor's appointments. Every time he is hospitalized with another infection, she worries that this is the last time.

Some days, they just plug along ~ others, they revel in. This year, Dad saved his Bingo winnings so Mom wouldn't know he was buying anything and had me pick up a bracelet for her birthday. He's 93 and still sweet on her. She's 88 and still happy to be his wife.

They've cleaned dirty diapers & dog poo. They've danced & seen the country. They go to church together every week. They still like to go out to dinner together. They (usually) have tremendous patience with each other and the curve balls life throws. They don't dance anymore, but they still enjoy music. They are adorable together. They have fun and laugh with each other, sometimes at each other. Through them, I've learned the importance of taking marriage seriously, but not taking myself too seriously.

Last year, at brunch. My flash was too slow, I missed the kiss.

Happy Anniversary Mom & Dad!

Grandma's Quasquicentennial

It is my favorite grandmother's quasquicentennial, which means she was born one-hundred twenty-five years ago today. She made it to ninety-six, so I actually had plenty of years to get to know her. Grandma was pretty amazing. Her grandmothers were Wilhelmina (Lutheran) and Margaret (Catholic). She was baptized Minnie Margaret in the Lutheran church. Her Irish Catholic grandmother offered to babysit one day and took Minnie to the Catholic church and (in order to save her soul) had her properly baptized, as Margaret Minnie.

At twelve, she contracted scarlet fever, which kept her out of school for several weeks. As a result, she was to be held back. There was a neighbor boy who was a year younger and had skipped a grade. If Minnie were held back, the younger boy would be a grade ahead of her. Minnie would have none of that and told her father as much. His response was that if she left school she would need to get a job and help support the family. And that is how Minnie dropped out of the sixth grade.

Twenty-year-old Minnie
with one of her charges.

She got a job helping a neighbor get ready for company. Minnie cleaned every inch of that house and eighty years later was still mortified about the wastefulness of washing the floors with milk just to make them shine. The neighbor's mother lived with them and was generally ignored by her family. She sat in the kitchen while Minnie worked and told stories to which Minnie (unlike the old lady's family) listened attentively. Once the company left and Minnie's services were no longer needed, the old lady gave Minnie her prize possession, a handkerchief of real China silk. Minnie hung on to that hankie for decades, before passing it on to the granddaughter who listened attentively to all her stories.

Minnie went on to work for several wealthy families as a nursemaid ~ once the kids were old enough for a governess, she needed a new family. She worked for at least two families in Minneapolis. When rich people travel, they don't want to take care of their children, so Minnie went with. She went to the White Mountains in the summer, Florida in the winter. She even got to see the pink sands of Bermuda. While living in Minneapolis, she met Winnie, who introduced Minnie to her kid brother. World War I got in the way, then for reasons I guess I'll never know, it took two-and-a-half years after returning from Europe for Winnie's brother August to finally marry Minnie. They were to be married on Friday until Minnie realized that was 13th and no way was Minnie going to get married on Friday the 13th. They got married on Sunday instead. They met before the war and she had to wait until 1922 for a ring. She must have really loved August.

Minnie with little Bud, on the
porch of a house with no
plumbing.

August had a friend with a vulcanizing business in Browns Valley (way out on the end of railroad line) who offered August a job. So they went west. They had a couple of kids, Mack and Ruth, their names needed to be short because Grandma didn't want nicknames. Then she called Mack "Bud."

They didn't travel. They didn't have luxuries. Grandma's dresses were homemade. She wore the same pair of glasses for at least the last twenty years of her life. Neighbors moved in down the block, Emma was a sixteen year old bride who hadn't a clue how to run a house or care for a baby. Minnie took Emma under her wing and taught her to be a housewife (their daughters became best friends). The depression hit. Money, never in great supply, was hard to find. Minnie took a job as the telephone operator and ended up getting the first Social Security number in Browns Valley.


Over the years, Minnie helped many woman with the babies, she was always ready to give advice or a helping hand. Bud left to fight World War II and ended up on the East Coast, wed to a local girl. Ruth moved to Minneapolis, then San Francisco, married a serviceman and lived all up and down the East Coast. In the fifties, Minnie & August were finally able to add a bathroom to their house. That's right, the woman who lived in mansions raising the children of the wealthy, married a pauper and spent thirty years without indoor plumbing.

She must have really loved August.

August & Minnie
~ this is how I think of them, white-haired, smiling, lovable.

They retired and began traveling. I don't think they ever went anywhere that didn't involve family. All the pictures taken outside Minnesota, are either at their children's homes, or nearby. The now grown kids, and their families, visited Browns Valley. When my father retired from the Coast Guard, we moved back to Minnesota, meaning we could visit more. Minnie was a quintessential grandma ~ she made awesome coffee cake, with raisins. My brother hated raisins, I loved them; so just about every visit there were two coffee cakes, one with and one without.

After 55 years of marriage, August died. The only time I ever saw her cry was when she threw herself on him in the casket and sobbed. Gut-wrenching sobs. It was awful, and beautiful. That night, she told my brother she could count on one hand the fights they'd had. She really loved August.

It amazes me to think of all she saw in her lifetime: 19 presidents, 8 popes, the invention of the automobile to the space shuttle, early days of the telephone to cable TV. Before she died, she even had air-conditioning. She travelled extensively. She knew everyone in her small town. She didn't finish sixth grade, but most of her grandchildren graduated college (and all attended). She was the heart and soul of a town, and a family. I am blessed to have known her. Happy Quasquicentennial, Grandma!

Happy Halfiversary!

My son Joe got married six-months ago today to Lynn, a wonderful woman who has the energy and patience for him (and that's saying a lot). They are one of those couples who are so obviously perfect for each other that you end up saying, "Awwww" or "Ewww" depending on how romantically inclined you are.

Lynn hates to be the center of attention in a large group, so it's no surprise that they didn't have a huge "traditional" wedding. Instead, they were wed on a lakeshore with six guests. After the wedding, we changed out of our dress-up clothes into hiking clothes. They chose to celebrate the formal beginning of their life together by casually hiking up a mountain.

Those puppies, Gelato & Pizzelle

It was appropriate. They've known each other three years this week. In that time they've moved four times, including a move from Minnesota to Colorado with no jobs lined up (I don't think I've ever been that brave). They've dealt with Joe falling through the ice on the Mississippi River ~ honestly, I don't know who that stressed more. They had jobs with shifts misaligned enough that they rarely saw one another. They have puppies whose primary functions in life are chewing up everything, and piddling everywhere (they are getting better ~ but beagles never get mellow). Joe started college. Joe dropped out after a year. Joe takes after his parents. The first job Lynn found after they moved was so bad, she left during orientation, another relationship strain. The job Joe found wasn't bad, but it was another of those "we never see each other" schedules. Yet, they grew stronger.

They didn't want us to have to make a special trip just for their wedding (sometimes, I think they're both a little nuts) so they decided that when we said we were coming to Denver, they'd get married. Lynn & I used to work together (you know what a supportive place that is). So, they knew vacation requests are made months in advance. Unless, of course, Dad turns 50 in Minneapolis four days before Grandpa turns 70 in Phoenix, and a spur-of-the-moment trip to the halfway point (Denver) comes up. We gave them two weeks warning. And they still managed to plan the wedding, on Grandpa's birthday, no less.

They keep jumping these hurdles and climbing these hills and growing ever closer. I've seen Joe mature under Lynn's influence. I've watched Lynn, who had to grow up way too soon, learn to play. They don't just bring out the best in each other, they shore up one another's weak spots. And, together, they climb mountains.

Dream Lake ~ the destination of the wedding day hike ~ is just ahead. This is the
closest picture I have without people, and since I haven't asked for anyone's
 permission to publish their picture, you'll have to make due with this.
And how perfect, to start a marriage with a dream in the heavens
(okay, only 10,000 ft, but who's counting?)

Happy Halfiversary Joe & Lynn. You are a fabulous couple!

I didn't spot this sign at the trailhead
until we got back. Once again, the
fates got to laugh at me.

By the way, Dream Lake is absolutely worth the effort. For a Flatlander, going from 9400 feet elevation to 9900 is a huge an horrible thing. There is no oxygen. None. People say there's less than at sea level but I couldn't find any at all. Halfway up, my lungs jumped out of my chest and rolled done the path looking for oxygen. But, eventually, I made it to the top, preceded by everyone in the group, including my 70-year-old father-in-law.

It was worth it. Dream Lake is breathtaking (in more ways than one). Also, the return trip is exciting. On the way down, I slipped in the snow and landed on my ass. Three. Separate. Times. Because even when you've found the right person and been together twenty-six years, life still has its ups-and-downs.

My son's in an ambulance again. . .

My first-born is studying to be an EMT. This is a good career choice for him, since, like his mother, he has the attention span of a gnat. He is most interested in ambulance crewing (is that the right term?) and that has to be a job free of monotony. Joe has been in ambulances before he started EMT school ~ not as a ride-along to shadow an Emergency Medical Technician, he just had a knack for near-death experiences. Yep, I'm that glib about it, mostly 'cause that keeps me from hyper-ventilating. I am prematurely grey due to a concerted effort by my children. Seriously. I've performed CPR & the Heimlich, pulled a glassy-eyed semi-conscious child from a pool, lost a six-year-old at the Minnesota State Fair (near the Grandstand, no less) and a ten-year-old at a bog. My boys are so good at dramatic injuries, illnesses and disappearances that my reaction to something as mundane as a broken bone is like, "We should probably get that set." I do still wig out at assaults, they may say they're fine. but. . .  (note: we don't live in a good neighborhood, they actually have been assaulted). But, otherwise, it's got to be big to get a reaction.

So, back to school, Joe has been in ambulances, urgent cares & emergency rooms in multiple states. Some people check out the museums, he checks out emergency care (which actually runs in the family, we had one trip with such bad food poisoning that my brother & I both hit two ERs). He had an idea what he'd be getting into, or more so than most, anyway.

He wasn't worried about blood & gore. He knew he could handle the curriculum. He survived me, so he knew he could handle panicky next-of-kin. What he was really worried about was babies. You see, he has not held a baby since he was four and his brother came along, and he doesn't remember that. He was scared that his first memory of holding a baby would be while it was dying. That's a reasonable fear, it could happen and what a horribly sad first-baby-moment.

He's done his first shift in an ambulance. He ended up holding a baby ~ but, not the way he feared. He helped deliver it. I think he's gonna like this EMT gig.