Some people save their bouquets or monogramed napkins from their wedding day, but my Grandpa ate an olive on his big day and kept the pit. After all these years, he’s still got it. These are my grandparents on their wedding day in April, 1940. They were next door neighbors as youngsters and just last week, we gathered to celebrate their 73 years together.
Say what?! That’s right. Seventy three. We wait much longer now before we wed, so I’m sure these milestones will be even more rare than they already are. If my husband and I get to 73 years of wedded bliss, we will be 99 and 101 years old. Only 57 more years to go, my Dearest…
My Gramps was a semi driver for over 30 years, being on the road for weeks at a time, while Nana was home taking care of the family. Maybe it’s true that absence makes the heart grow fonder?
Oh, they have done (and still do) their fair share of bickering. One would wonder how or why they didn’t throw in the towel. But they didn’t. Through all the disagreements, they must have found common ground.
One constant they have is their love of big band music and dancing. Nana and Gramps would travel every year to attend a garden party hosted by one of of their favorites, Jack Morgan and the Russ Morgan Orchestra. It was a long weekend of fabulous music, old friends, and of course, lots of dancing.
When I was a kid, Sunday mornings at their house, post sleepovers, always had the radio tuned to the old standards. Eating cereal out of Nana’s small, green, depression glass bowl and listening to Glenn Miller in their tiny kitchen will continue to be a cherished memory for me.
I made a ton of cookies for my grandparents, and the residents in their building to celebrate their anniversary, and a shout out goes to my Sissy for the ballroom dance idea. I was so excited to share with them what I had created. Each one was baked and frosted while reminiscing of times spent together.
I love you as hard as the sidewalk.