These two handsome people are posing together to celebrate their wedding. This picture, actually a fairly early example of mass produced state-of-the-art for that time, is pretty interesting in its own right. A black and white paper negative was transposed onto cardboard and then hand painted. In an attempt to take off some of the dust also brought off the chalk-like color medium.
These guys would have three handsome children. They are my grandparents who lived in Seaton when we boys were growing up.
These two handsome people are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. They had handsome children and their children's children were handsome. And smart, too.
Orpha and Vern (VG) Blythe were the parents of three children, Granville, Gladys and Glen Blythe. Glen was my father. Gladys was the wife of my Uncle Ed. Granville and his wife, Madge, had two kids, Jim and John. Gladys and Ed had two kids, Janet and Eddie. Herb and his wife Marj had three boys, Phil, Mike and Mark. Orpha and VG lived in Seaton while our other grandparents, Marj's folks, lived in Quincy.
Now that we have the formal introductions out of the way, you may all have a seat.
The second photo was taken in 1961 on the occasion of their 50th wedding anniversary. The Wombie and I are unsure where this was taken. It doesn't look like their place but it would be understandable after all this time. It was a time when such things were major events - before people married again - some many times. Back when 50 years was achievable.
These guys probably get a bit of a bum rap from us guys. They seemed old when we were striplings and trips to see them were like a trip to the dentist. A kid doesn't understand such things but it seemed like all we did was sit and stare at the TV while no one talked. After a couple hours of unmerciful boredom, and thankfully allowed to go home, one of them would say "What's your hurry, stranger?" I don't remember hugs, jokes, laughter or fun. They did, however, teach me what not to do as a grandparent. I hope Norah and Alfred will remember hugs, jokes, laughter and fun.
It is easy to refer to folks as 'salt of the earth" when you have no other adjectives. That phrase has really become a kind of anthem to people like Orpha and VG. She, the prototypical Depression-era wife who kept a neat clean house and dutifully cooked the requisite meals at the requisite times. I seldom saw her smile more than a Mona Lisa type grin - and certainly no belly laugh - like the one in the picture. I don't recall insightful conversations, but then again, I may not have known what those were then. She was a real live sphinx who talked but said little.
He, a cantankerous codger, who would pound a stuffed chair at the elevator in retirement railing against the "goddamn Democrats". farmers would come in and push his buttons and the stuffing would fly from the two slits in the chair from his pounding.
He'd pick us kids up and take us on car rides to some scrub acreage he had below the bluff. He chewed Red Man and every so often he'd spit out the window. Sometimes he forgot to roll down the window.
On the occasion of the twins' 16th birthday he came, slowly, down the sidewalk before we were to leave for school. He finally made it inside and had a seat at the dining room table and told us both, with the seriousness and gravity of something he had been holding in until this particular moment, to "find a good woman who can cook, and vote Republican." After Sunday family meals when Gladys and Ed and their kids would join us, and occasionally Granville and Madge, he would walk to his recliner, unfasten his top pant's button and proceed to sleep. Looking back, I recall thinking Uncle Ed looked as bored as we kids. Fun times.
The best part of having to go down there was the chance to explore. Our dad's room upstairs looked just it was when he left for college. These weren't people who redecorated. In the hallway there was a really cool air draw in the middle of the floor with a rather nice looking steel grate. The best thing was you could hear and see things going on downstairs where all the adults were. Pity nothing exciting was ever uttered.
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