My grandparents after they were first married. My grandfather first row on the left, my grandmother in the second row, second from left.
My grandmother on my father’s side had her first child at age fifteen, a boy said to have weighed thirteen plus pounds. After, her doctor told her she would not have any more children. I guess he didn’t exactly know what he was talking about, since she had thirteen more.
My grandfather married my grandmother when she was fourteen and he was thirty-nine. I hesitate to tell people that because it would surely be labeled child molestation now. But in 1912, there were no classifications of the kind. My grandfather had been married before and had a son who had disabilities. My grandmother was hired to care for him when he and his first wife divorced. My grandmother was put out of her house when her mother died and her father remarried. It made sense for my grandmother to marry my grandfather. There were no orphanages and she didn’t have a home. And he needed a caretaker for his child.
My grandmother was a remarkable woman. She took in ironing and boarders (where did she put them with so many children?), as well as helped with the farm and raised all those children. I have a photo of the clothesline at my grandmother’s house. I can’t even imagine what her daily laundry load was or when she had time to do it. She worked well after all of her children were grown, since her husband was ill for many years. He died at the age of ninety-two when I was six years old. I remember going to visit him and sitting on his hospital bed. He frightened me then.
My father’s entire family. My father is in the second row, third from the left.
My father was born on February 2, 1922. He was so proud to be a 02-02-22 baby. He also liked that his birthday was on ground hog’s day. He didn’t have much supervision when he was very young except from his older sisters. He told many stories of his mischievous deeds. His childhood was short though. He started working on area farms during the Depression. He was a strong teenager and worked from daylight to sundown, and brought all the money home to his family. My father was the family joke-ster, a trait that persisted until the day he died. He needed attention, like most people need water. He simply couldn’t thrive without it. He joined the army during WWII and served for four years. He earned a Purple Heart while there. He was injured three different times, once requiring a eight-month hospital stay. Fortunately for him, he had three other brothers in the European front at the time who could visit him in France while hospitalized.
25 of my 50 first cousins with my Grandmother and Grandfather. I am standing to the left of my grandmother.
There were so many people on my father’s side that they couldn’t all fit in one household. My grandmother found a park and started a tradition of the annual family reunion. This was great fun when I was a kid, since I had fifty first cousins close to my age. I have pictures of my father holding me at the reunion. He loved that I had red hair and would carry me around when I was a baby during the reunion, unless there was a horseshoe pitching contest going on. There were as many as three hundred relatives at these reunions and they still continue to this day, even though all but two from my father’s generation are gone. They just had the sixty-seventh family reunion. Pie, potato salad and family communion like you can’t imagine.
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