Love's Labour Lost--almost, re-post from August 8, 2012

Theodorus Peck, 1918

Amy Nichols, 1916

This love story should not have been possible. 

One world was from the farmlands of Illinois, where Theodorus’ family were affluent landowners, bankers, and shop owners.  The other world was from the cities of Michigan, where Amy’s family were more gentile, educated, and ‘with prospects’.

The likelihood of their meeting was very limited, fate stepped in.  The key factor was the restlessness that filled Theodorus.

He was extremely intelligent and eager to see more than the rolling fields of corn.  Tall and lean with pale blue eyes, Theodorus was not a physically strong man; farming would have been a difficult life for him.  Theodorus “Dorus” was already 35 with no serious attachments.

With his parents’ blessings, Theodorus went on a “stroll-about the United States”.  The stroll went West to Utah and up to Idaho.  It took him through mountains, deserts, and ultimately to Michigan.

He had friends in Michigan from his growing-up years and from his travels.  They showed him different towns and cities.  One city was Detroit. 

Amy came from a town nearby, and had just received her Pharmaceutical Degree.  Finding a job in Detroit meant that she would receive a good salary.

Amy Nichols on her way to the Drug Store

What is a bit vague (from her reminisces) is about her family.  At one time they had been comfortably situated, but something about the father’s gambling and drinking had left them in financial straits.  There were three daughters and one son.  Amy was the oldest and was considered to be a ‘spinster’.  She was also brilliant.

Amy was so mentally gifted that she had begun studies in medical school to become a doctor.  She was the only woman in 103 men.  Two years into her studies, the family was nearly destitute.  With their pleas for help, Amy switched her studies to become a Pharmacist. 

Only part of the class photo, with Amy Nichols at the top

At the age of 28, Amy was behind the drug store counter, filling prescriptions and laughing with customers.  She was a big woman with a big personality—tall with brown eyes and an easy smile. 

Theodorus needed something from a drugstore, so his friends took him to this store as it was the closest.  Brown eyes meeting pale blue eyes, well, you can picture the exchange.

They began the courtship.    

Her family was not happy.  No, they viewed Dorus as depriving them of their source of income.

What to do?  They eloped.

When my grandmother said this to me, I was about 14.  My jaw dropped; I looked at my very traditional elderly grandmother, and these images did not coalesce.  “You mean—out the window, down the ladder elopement?”  She said, “Well, almost.”

When the dust had settled and days had passed, Amy’s family cooled down, considered their standing in the community, and held a reception for the newlyweds. 

Reception corsage

Their love story will continue on another posting.

A Love Affair to Remember, re-posted from April 2012

Love stories are not as unique as we like to believe. 

Of course, when I was falling in love with my future husband, it was the love of the century.  The stuff of books, legends, and movies-- that was what we had.

It is only now in the present that I find myself looking back at the grand love affairs that led to my existence.  In looking at my mother and father, their respective parents, and back for generations, one will find a man and woman whose eyes spoke of longing and desire.  Then they fell in love.

My mother’s parents were Lewis and Marie Cardiff.  Their love was always clear to me in the way he patted her behind as she walked by him, even when they were in their senior years.  It was the way she giggled when he did that, blushing a little.  They held hands at the table.  Love.

My grandfather was the source of Ellen Jo Carter's Grandpa Sam Parker.

They met near Grandpa’s childhood home, right after WW1. 

Grandpa had experienced the worst of the war, the most horrible carnage, unimaginable to those at home.  As a skilled hunter and sharp shooter, Grandpa Cardiff (his father called him "Sam", and another farmer like himself were assigned to scout behind enemy lines. 

They were on the run, sleeping in barns and ditches, and making their way back to deliver information about the enemy troops.

The things he saw, the things he had to do scarred him forever.  Shortly before he died, Grandpa told my brother some of those things.  Horrible things he witnessed the Germans, taking a baby, bayoneting it. and tossing up to be speared by another soldier.

The major battles

He returned home a battered soul who just wanted peace.  He got a job collecting milk for the local dairy company.  Along long stretches of quiet green pastures, Grandpa guided the horse-pulled wagon, and collected the milk cans that farmers set out for him early in the morning.

My grandmother, Marie (on the left) was the source for Ellen Jo Carter's Grandma Daisy Parker.  She was close to 18 yrs. in this photo.  Wearing a new dress, Marie was preparing to leave home and go to work at a family friend's house.

A young woman had observed that lonely journey day after day.  Working as a serving girl for a large farm family far from her own parents, Marie was homesick and watched the world go by from the kitchen window.

Barely 18 then, Grandma decided that she needed to be on that road just when he went by.  They waved at each other for days.  Then he stopped and talked for a few minutes. 

Over a period of weeks, they learned about each other through the spoken and unspoken language of love, always respectfully.  Lewis was, after all, ten years older than Marie.  One evening after supper, Grandpa showed up at the house where Grandma was a serving girl.  She went out onto the porch behind the kitchen where he waited, hat in hand. 

He scooped her up in his arms, their eyes meeting.  Grandpa said, “Marie, I want you to be my girl forever.”

My grandfather was a farmer before and after WW1.  He suffered lung damage from the toxic gas used in war.

That was it.  The next day or so, Grandma packed up and went off with Grandpa.  They were married in a simple straight-forward ceremony.  Grandpa had $100 from his army discharge.  With it, they bought a bed, a plow, and a sewing machine.

This was my grandparents' home.  Ellen Jo will visit here as she grows.

A love affair to remember?  Like Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr?  You betcha.  As for the other side of the family, you will have to come back to hear about them.

The Maze of Small Town Time

My grandmother and grandfather with their four daughters (Mom on the left).

The faces of my mother’s hometown all look familiar, as if there is a mold somewhere which makes each family member.  A distant cousin has the same nose as my aunt, and the way someone smiles calls up the memory of a long dead parent. 

When I visited my mother, we went out to the local restaurant frequently.  We always planted ourselves where Mom could see who entered and where they sat.  All it took was for me to ask:  “Mom, who is that lady?  Do I know her?”

I know my grandmother is the tall girl in the back, but...

Mom would lean back.  “Well.  That woman is Lydia Roberts.  NOW her maiden name was…..and her mother was….”  The twists and turns of births, marriages, and deaths plus maiden names and odd events that happened down through the years led deeper and deeper into a maze of genealogy. 

Mom knew it all.  All the names and relationships, all the side events that make small-town life interesting, and all the history of decades past were imprinted in my mother’s mind. 

 My grandmother was the same, and I would guess that there was an oral history of telling family lines at Sunday dinners, funeral memorials, and births of new generations.

Mom, who is the lady on the right?

My mother traced back through to the early 1800s, and then, “…NOW Orley Jenkins came here from Kentucky at that time.  BUT his mother’s family—the Jones family—were from Wales.  What was her name?  Lizzie?  NO.  Margaret, that’s her name…”   

She would pause then, glanced at the woman who was eating her fried catfish and coleslaw.  “Oh.  No, no you don’t know that woman.”

I had gotten lost at the second turn in the maze, but I didn’t dare interrupt Mom.  When Mom was weaving her way through over 100 years of people, it was best to let her find her way back to me.