Got Spark?

Way back in nineteen seventy-something, my wonderful grandparents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. They were surrounded by ALL of their children and probly most of their grandchildren and a coupl'a great-grandchildren. The families helped clean, paint, wallpaper and landscape their home and yard prior to this momentous occasion. Each individual family had their picture taken with the honored couple. My grandpa wasn't grumpy, but when the photographer said "Smile!" Grandpa said "I AM smiling*&^%&*(!!" And we all chorused, "Yeah, he IS." My mom made matching dresses for my sister and me. Lucky us.

My grandpa was a really special person to me. He was sick with emphysema for my whole life, so it was very normal for him to be in and out of the hospital, living temporarily in an oxygen tent. He saved the bendy straws for me in the hospital. He always told me lots of stories of "the olden days." I remember sitting by his bedside while he regaled me with logging stories and hunting tales. He was protective of me and even when his old codger friends visited, and they gave me the creeps, I knew that Grandpa wouldn't let anything happen to me. He shared books with me about cowboys. I would have liked to be a cowgirl, until I found out they didn't bathe very often. Even though Grandpa wasn't into "women libbers," he got a kick out of my mom and her best friend burning their bra's in his backyard. He made the best mincemeat pies and jellies and jams. Though I couldn't tell you now what mincemeat tastes like. He had a smokehouse behind their home and it smelled SO good when it was going. I didn't know what venison was made from or maybe I wouldn't have enjoyed it quite so much. Don't ask - don't tell. If Grandpa was alive today, he'd be nearly 107 years old. Of course, he would have buried three of his five children by now. I remember the day my grandpa died. I was so sad and really didn't understand the forever aspect of death. And I never gave any thought to eternal life. We were Baptist and I was scared outta my wits over that secret rapture crap. (No offense anyone. Really. I still get the willies thinking about it.) So, my grandpa was gone and I didn't get to see him or talk to him or hug him or kiss him ever again. It was my first experience ever with death of anyone I loved.

My grandma was the kindest-hearted person I've ever known. She was a seamstress and a crafty person. I don't sew - my sister inherited that gene and her teaching, but I'd like to think the crafty thing came from her. She wrote me my first ever check, for a Brownie calendar I sold her. I still have that check somewhere. I love the home movie of Grandma and Grandpa coming over for Christmas morning to see me open my gifts. I was number 87 (or something like that) of grandchildren, but they never failed to make me feel like Numero Uno. I was their baby's first baby, so I guess there was something special about that. My grandma told me SO many stories of life in the 20's, when she married my grandpa. Before they married, she was a school teacher. Probly she was HOT cuz you know how all the single school teachers are HOT. She gave birth at home for her first 4 children and then my dad was the only one born in an actual hospital. Here's me without an epidural: "BARREN" My grandma would sew in the evenings and watch TV. After my grandpa died, she missed him so much and told me she still expected him to walk around the corner. I don't know where they are now, but I imagine something like the reunion at the end of Titanic. Her stories paint a very special love story. She had a terrible fall one night and then suffered from Alzheimer's for awhile before she died. It wasn't a very dignified life at the end and I tend to think more of the great memories of her while I was growing up. She buried one son during her life and told me afterward of the terrible pain in her heart, losing him. She said "it doesn't matter if they're 8 months or 80 years, it's heartbreaking to lose your child." I sat there holding my 8 month old son in my arms while we talked and I hurt just imagining that kind of loss. I loved her stories about my dad when he was a little guy. After she died, my aunt found all the pictures and letters that she had ever received in the many drawers around her house. I still have letters she wrote me throughout the years. She was one very special lady. I know I tend to think of my grandparents as just old people who lived together. But spending 50 years together is much more than tolerance and charity. They built a life together. They raised a family and continued tending to their grands and greats until their deaths. Something brought my grandparents together some 80+ years ago. There was a spark, a smile, the hint of something sweet. They couldn't have imagined the lives they would build together. Just like me and my #1 guy, nearly 22 years ago. A spark. A smile. The hint of something sweet.