Anniversary

18 this morning, partly cloudy and cold all day, never getting above 27. Tonight is forecast to be in the single digits.

I am thinking tonight of my mother and father. I am imagining them on this night, 77 years ago, in cold, snowy Cambridgeshire, England. 

I know it was cold and snowing because my mother told me. This, you see, would have been the night before her wedding. I am thinking about how it must have been that night for her and for her mother and sisters. Imagine them, in war-stricken England, finding all the things needed for a wedding. A dress. Something borrowed, something blue, something old, something new. What were those things, I wonder? 

The wedding photos were apparently taken several months after the wedding, judging by all the greenery

I cannot remember if her dress was new, or made for the occasion, or was it made over from someone else's dress? I know it was soft, soft satin of a kind we don't see today, with long sleeves and an elegant slim profile. Her veil? Was that borrowed? The dress came to America with her, and my sister Cathy wore it for her own wedding. I suppose Cathy still has it. I hope so.

Thinking of my Granny and her daughters in their little house built by my grandfather before he died some 15 years before this wedding night. 

                                                    Ashlyn, my mother's childhood home.

Were there blackout curtains in the windows? I do not think they had electricity yet, anyway, in that little house in the country. Were they worried about an airstrike? Or were they too busy with preparations? Did Mom stay at home that night, or did she stay somewhere in Cambridge, since the roads might be impassable in the morning?

How did my Granny feel about her youngest child marrying an American? With one daughter already wed to a Canadian, I can only imagine the worry and the pain of knowing her daughter might move an ocean away. That wasn't the plan at the time--they planned to stay in England, but somehow the plan changed. Did Granny suspect that might happen?

All these questions, now I want to know the answers but of course it's too late to find out. 

And then there's my father, at his airbase not many miles away. Did he party it up with his buddies the night before, or was he on duty? Clothes were no problem for him, the dress uniform was all he needed.

I remember my parents telling us about the day of the wedding, how it was so cold, and snow so deep no one could get to the church, The Church of our Lady and the English Martyrs. Mom had converted to Catholicism to marry Dad. At the wedding, there were only the priest, the bride and groom, and two witnesses. No wedding dinner, just Orange Crush soda and Clark candy bars--which were served at their 50th wedding anniversary too. 

50 years later, and still so much in love.

So tonight I am trying to go back in time, to the night before the wedding, to the tiny village of Caldecote, to a time when people married because who knew if there would be a future, to a time of danger, suspense, and best of all, love. Their love lasted, despite the obstacles of war, my father's anger mother in America, despite so many children and so many hardships, for 61 years. While some of their story is lost to me, the fact of their love and commitment was the hallmark of their lives.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Covid Journal, Day 76: Happy Anniversary to Us!

A lovely 60 degrees and light showers this morning, with sun and rain mixing it up all day. The cooler temps are very welcome.

It's our 34th anniversary today! And we celebrated as we usually do--which is really not much. Most years our anniversary celebration has been working in the garden, or I've been storytelling, things like that. Today was a little different in that we took the morning slow, then went to pick up the rest of a small estate we bought. Came home to have lasagna courtesy of Schwan's frozen creation, a good salad and some nice red wine. After that, the weekly phone call with family; this week, 6 sisters were on the call, no brothers. It's been awfully nice to have these weekly conversations. We're more in touch now than we've been in years.

We'd been together just over a year in this photo

So that was the gist of our celebratory activities. Maybe next year, on our 35th, we'll do something different, but we're happy and contented with the way we are, and feel no real need to go out or spend money to mark the occasion. Just sitting and talking about our years together is satisfaction enough.

A couple years ago, in the Aran Islands. Older but just as happy.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Old Love, True Love

On honeymoon, 1946

Mom and Dad on their (belated) honeymoon, probably in 1946 or 1947. They were married January 11, 1945, at the Church of the English Martyrs in Cambridge, England.

Church where they were married.

Mom, a pretty English girl raised in the small village of Caldecote, England, and Dad, a wild American airmen raised in New Orleans, met in a tea shop in August 1944. When the war was over in August 1945, Dad went to Germany for the occupation, to help with clearing a concentration camp. He had photos of that which I could not bear to look at after seeing the top two.

Mom was sent to an internment camp for brides of the Americans and Canadians, in Royston, England. There, 200 women were packed into quonset huts to await approval to travel to America. They had to be healthy, so you can imagine how it was--all those women in a metal hut in December in damp England. Mom was declared fit to travel on January 2, 1946, but did not sail on the Queen yMary until February and arrived in NYC in March. Dad had returned in November 1945. Their reunion must have been a joyful one.

They did not have their honeymoon until they were both in America. These two photos were taken on Skyline Drive in Virginia and I can only imagine how happy they were. They remained happy together for 61 years. Today would have been their 74th anniversary.

Mom's childhood home: Ashlyn cottage, built by her father before his death in 1930. Notice the front porch--he must have seen those on his short emigration to Canada because English homes generally do not have porches. 

Dad's home in Arlington, Va. His parents never owned a home, they always rented. This is the house I remember visiting as a very young child, prior to these grandparents moving back to New Orleans after Grandpa's retirement from the Coast Guard. Mom and Dad lived here for about 2 years while Dad built a little house in Centreville, VA, where I was born.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Anniversary: May 29

I remember the day we married. Both of us divorced, waiting for a day we both had off work so that we could get this legal thing ticked off the to-do list. I remember coming home and tying up tomato plants; that, I suppose was our honeymoon. I remember my two youngest (at the time) sons playing Bloody Knuckles at the back of the church in Pearisburg, VA during our wedding ceremony; they were the only guests at the wedding, and the only celebrants at our wedding supper at the Shoney’s restaurant afterward. Years later we discovered that we had been married in the county seat of the place where many of Larry’s forebears came from but at the time it was just a place to get married quickly when we found an opportunity to do so. My first wedding was of the Catholic variety, much pomp and ceremony, but the glue used for that match did not last nearly as long as this get-it-done-quick variety has held. 

I won’t say it’s been a bed of roses, but I won’t say it’s been a bed of thorns either. The path has been rocky at times, strewn with boulders that seemed insurmountable. Other times it has been as straight and true as a Kansas cornfield with bright blue skies and sunshine. Never would I say it’s been easy (and any wife of a Vietnam vet knows what I’m talking about), but always would I say it’s been worth the years invested.

Sometimes I read posts on Facebook written by the newly in love or newly married, and the sweetness oozes from every word. “You’re my one true love,” or “(Insert name) is so amazing! So happy with him/her/our little family!” I have to admit, I squirm when I read them. Because after 63 years I’ve learned that there really is no such thing as “one true love”; if one is open to it, love is there to be found and comes with all sorts of unexpected, exciting and sometimes unpleasant surprises.  I’ve learned that families can be as messy as they are beautiful and that marriage is not something that can be described in one sentence.

 The other day I was looking for a birthday card for my hubby and even that was difficult. Most were filled with lavish sentimentality and words about unending love. I finally selected one, but had to revise it a bit—where it said “looking forward to the beautiful memories we’ll make in our future” I had to scratch out “beautiful” and write in “interesting” instead. Because, after all, isn’t that more of what love is—interesting? It is not always easy, smooth and beautiful; it’s full of lumps and bumps and anger and laughs and passion and, sometimes, contentment.

I have yet to find an anniversary card. Is there one for people like us who fight probably as often as we sit in quiet companionship, who know each other so well that we can fix each other’s coffee, remind each other about the shoes left where the other will stumble, answer questions before the other asks, and even supply the next line for the other in arguments? Hallmark is all about the blasé, simplified, romance-novel version of love and we are all about the everyday, nitty-gritty, complicated kind of love that I believe is the real story behind most long-lived marriages.

A single person reading this might think marriage is not worth the trouble and I can see where that might be a logical conclusion. Marriage isn’t about the logical, however; it’s more like the roller coaster and living single is like the merry-go-round. While carnival rides have always made my stomach roll and my legs shake, I will say that the roller coaster is well worth the ride. And the merry-go-round, while safe and comfortable, is boring and in the end, lonely. At least the people on the roller coaster grab hold of each other when the going is rough and scream in unison.

So happy anniversary, Larry. Here’s to 28 more years of never knowing what might be coming around the bend. Here’s to the loops and dips and exhilarating thrills of this wild ride we call our marriage. I can't imagine what life would be like without you.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Drumroll Please: The Giveaway!

And now....the CSN Stores Giveaway to celebrate my anniversary today!

102 of you commented this week, making you eligible for my giveaway. I have enjoyed reading all of your posts and thoughts. What a community this is--supporting, funny, thoughtful, and sharing. Thank you all for visiting.

I used the Random Generator to select the winner (boy, does that thing work great!) and the winner was number 94--Nance! Congratulations!

Please send me your email address, Nance and I will hook you up with CSN so you can claim your prize. Please be sure to let us all know what you selected from all the great things available at CSN.

Next I need to go outside and hug my honey, who is on the tractor plowing the ground for the pumpkin patch.

I promise, though, that our anniversary won't be all work. We'll be at the Vandalia Gathering later today to listen to good old-time music and see friends; maybe dinner out and then back to the Gathering for the evening concert. This will be a good day. Then tomorrow? I'm telling stories at Vandalia and judging the West Virginia State Liars Contest. Come on down!

Happy Anniversary to Me!

Hey, it's my blog's anniversary! (Here's a link to my very first post) It's two years old this evening. My first few posts were tentative, feeling my way in a new territory and sorting out what I wanted the blog to be, what I wanted to say and share.

Some of the things I wondered about:
How much of my life do I share?
Should I tell about work?
Should I tell about my family?
Should it just be related to storytelling?
Or should it be about writing and nothing else?
Should I write about gardening, country life, canning?
What about recipes and poetry?
And pictures? How do I do that? Do I want to do that?

As you can see if you've been reading for a while, I write about all of the above topics, except work--my job is pretty much taboo for the blog. My job is not my life--all those other things are my life. When I'm home or writing, I want to forget the many stresses of the job and enjoy being here and now, and remembering the many good things in my past.

Some people might say this is a feel-good blog. Perhaps it is. But I am a generally happy person and I want to share that good feeling, and the peace of country living and storytelling with others through my writing.

Tipper, City Mouse, MK Stover, Mary, Tiger Lady, Jason, Mike and Theresa, you were all my first readers, I do believe, or at least you're the ones I know about. Thank you for being such loyal friends.

If you've been reading for a while anonymously, thank you.

Matthew, Janet, and the many others who offer comments regularly, thank you for sharing yourselves with us.

If you're a newcomer, welcome! I hope you return again and again, and share your thoughts with the rest of what has become a small community of friends.

Happy Anniversary to Us

It's been a fast 22 years.

This photo was taken in 1987, after we'd been married about a year. We were in our mid-thirties, trim and fit, poor as dirt and happy as larks. We had a new baby to add to my four sons by my first marriage, and we had stopped at my parents' home on the first vacation I'd ever had.



Here we are in a photo taken last October.

No longer young, fit and trim--but no longer poor as dirt either, and still happy as larks.

And still living in the same place, watching grandchildren grow up and the gardens mature (grandkids will mature one day too!).


Happy Anniversary, Larry. It's been an amazing 22 years, and I would not have missed a minute of it.

True Love

Age is hard on skin and bones
but marriage is sweeter as we grow older.

You know what spoon I like for my cereal,
which coffee mug is my favorite,
that I do not like to eat meat with a salad fork.
You know how many times I will turn off the alarm
before I get out of bed.

I know just how to rub your back,
soothe your moods and aches and pains,
and how strong to make your coffee.
I know when Vietnam haunts your nights,
and that you like it when I stroke your face.

No one has to tell old married people
What love is all about.