70 years (and a few days) ago, there was a young woman celebrating her 17th birthday. And how did she celebrate her birthday? She got married! This young woman had been courted by a slightly older man for about 5 months in a somewhat long distance relationship (they lived 30 miles apart, which was pretty close to long distance back then). And on August 17, 1938, this young woman and her 23 year-old beau were married for the 1st time. They weren’t married in a church. Why? I don’t know. What I do know is that they were married in the minister’s home, and he was pretty darn nervous because it was the first wedding he had ever performed. (The minister was nervous, but I’m sure the young man was, too, though he’d probably not admit it.)
50 years later, she and her slightly older man were married again. In a church this time, with 3 of their 4 children present, as well as several of their grandchildren, and assorted friends and others.
70 years after their 1st wedding, though somewhat older, they were married for the 3rd time. And again in a church (though not in the same church as 20 years prior because they had recently left the church in which they had been members for almost 70 years to follow their dear minister after he was rudely ousted in a very un-Christian-like manner from said church. But I digress). They were surrounded by 2 of their children, 5 grandchildren, 5 great-grandchildren, assorted spouses/boyfriends/SOs, and members and guests of the (new) church. Their wedding was performed by the dear minister (who I can honestly say is one of the most decent people, and ministers, I’ve ever known – if I went to church I would go to his, even though it’s an hour away over some typically crappy WV roads) of whom they had grown so fond. He is so equally fond of them that he had some trouble getting through the ceremony.
When the, formerly young, man was asked why he decided to marry his bride he claimed, “Well I’d been walking to her house every day for about 5 months, and it was a pretty long walk. I thought ‘That’s enough of that, it’s time to bring her home.'” How’s that for romance?
This is the clearest, and closest, photo of me from the day. As far as I know. Although my propensity for avoiding pictures (begin taken of me) is legendary, so I wouldn’t be surprised if there is another one that has been hidden from me. They can bite me.
**I didn’t take these photos, but I tried to my best editing them.
***Not that my photog skills are immeasurably better.