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Brian and I traveled to Indiana this past weekend for a once-in-a-lifetime event: celebrating a 70th anniversary. To put this in perspective, Brian and I have been married 61 months, less than 1/13th as long. The people who make up those traditional themes for each anniversary stop at 60. My grandparents, age 88 and 91, were married June 6, 1937 (at ages 18 and 21).

A big shindig doesn’t seem appropriate for #70. My parents took G&G out for a nice lunch on the actual day, then went to visit cemeteries in Winchester and Salamonia where their parents are buried, since they didn’t make it over for Memorial Day. They told stories and visited “old stomping grounds” on the way (like Rufus Nute’s house, not to be confused with Rufus Snoot). On Saturday, Rich and Sarah drove over from Indy, Brian and I had flown into Fort Wayne, and we all assembled at G&G’s place for lunch.

I asked about their wedding day, since they don’t have any pictures. They got married in the parsonage in front of the fireplace in the living room, at 8:30am, with one other couple attending as witnesses. Grandma got a new dress for the occasion but not a “Wedding Dress”, and Grandpa wore a suit. They went to church after the ceremony, and then honeymooned in Michigan for a few days. We also reminisced about their 50th anniversary – what had changed in the last 20 years.

Congratulations Grandma and Grandpa!