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Friday, April 17, 2015


Since I write romances, I enjoy listening to other couples' love stories--how they met and how they fell in love. Most people are more than willing to divulge the details concerning their courtship.

But I do not know how my paternal grandparents met and fell in love. My grandfather is on the right in the photo above and my grandmother is happily putting a new coat on me. This picture was taken at Christmas in 1955.

I know my grandmother's parents owned a chicken farm in Pennington, New Jersey. My grandfather was a milkman in Jersey City. My grandmother was a Presbyterian and my grandfather was Catholic. They were married in the vestibule of the Catholic church, because in those days non-Catholics weren't allowed to marry at the altar. (Fortunately, that rule changed.)

My grandmother died about eight years after this picture was taken. I was thirteen then. I never got to talk to her much at all.

My grandfather died about sixteen years after my grandmother. While I had the opportunity to talk to him quite a bit, I never asked him how he and his sweetheart met. Why didn't I think of it? Why didn't someone else think of it?

Now we'll never know. :-(


Sharon McGregor said...

We realize too late that we only have a limtited time to discover our parents and grandparents. I've really been feeling this as I wrote Acres of Dreams.

Penelope Marzec said...


If I had been older when my grandmother died, I probably would have asked her a lot more questions.

I'll have to add your book to my TBR stack. :-)