Coveralls and Sweet Love

One line started a courtship of true love for the ages. "By the way, you're wearing his coveralls." A community theater director said this to my grandmother Dorothy after she showed up in her best Sunday outfit, ready to build sets. He told her to change into spare coveralls in the back. Then he introduced her to my grandfather Sherman.

Sixty-two years of life, love, and family followed their wedding on Nov 13, 1948. My grandmother entered Heaven on March 10, 2011. My grandfather joined her there on November 20, 2016.

A few times a year I spot a cardinal, a coin on the ground or even a butterfly. Given their love for nature, math, and being fans of the Louisville Cardinals, I’m not surprised. I even hear them or catch a whiff of a dish she liked to make.

“Do you remember those days, Dot?

“Yes, I certainly do. They were fun and full of hope. We thought we could do anything.”

"I still can't understand why you showed up at the theater in fancy clothes, and how you thought you could paint and saw in them?” “Sherman, all I knew was that you looked nice the night everyone picked a job, and I would do whatever I had to for an introduction.”

“Well, you got one.”

Laughter from Heaven plays among the sun kissed clouds.

They were young and quickly developed a friendship. It helped that they shared the same core values. The second world war brought extensive changes. It was a great time to be young and ready to seize the day.

Their late-night hangout was the neon-lit Dizzy Whizz. Hot food and cold drinks brought by slender gals on skates made it popular with the teens and young folks just past graduation. Less than five bucks kept them happy for the whole date.

“We started dating the year that place opened, Sherman.”

“I especially liked it because it was cheap. We always had a good time, with friends or by ourselves.”

“Remember how we met up with the twins? They brought a guy for each of them. Then we’d squeeze into a big booth, all six of us.”

“The fun was getting together for drinks, not just eating.”

“That was the only way our mothers allowed us to date at first.”

“Times were different. No doubt about it.”

Similarities and differences shaped their time together. They never let the latter get in the way. They found it fine to not always participate in each other’s activities.

“Remember how we had a rule about going to Mass, Dot?”

“Oh, yes. We agreed that in case of sickness the other one should go. Worked out well over the years.”

“Hey, Dot. We also agreed to not get upset if one of us forgot our anniversary.”

“How I remember! We both forgot it one year. My mother called to congratulate us. We had to get out of our pajamas and into evening clothes.”

“Was that our first or second anniversary?”

“Funniest thing, Sherman. I don’t quite remember. I think it was the first. Who knows?”

Family was important to them. Both lost a father before the age of twenty. My paternal great-grandfather died from complications with Appendicitis in 1943. My maternal great-grandfather died in 1945 after battling lung cancer. They were German, yet neither supported the Axis powers during the second world war. Both had a brother that served for the Allied forces.

“What a big deal it was for Rich to make it home after the war. I still can’t believe that he was not released as fast as the others. Oh, Sherman I wish you could have been there the day he came home!”

“What was it that caused a delay?”

“He played in a band, an official one. He played a French Horn. I guess he was extra good. His officers didn’t want to let him go.”

“That’s right. Now I remember. He was the one that wrote to you while he was away. You got one letter at school.”

“Yes, and I laughed so hard at a joke he shared that the nuns thought I cried. They kept telling me to pray and have faith in his safe return.”

My grandmother and a friend shared White Castle burgers, each getting the maximum onions and pickles. Then they'd split the two toppings so each had the most of their preferred one.

“I had a friend who I knew growing up in the Highlands. She and I liked the giant pickles. Bus fare was the same as a pickle. We walked somedays and took the bus other ones. Do you have a story about your younger days, Sherman?”

“Well, my three brothers and I ran around the house, chasing each other. My mother had a way of telling us it was time to stop.”

“What was it?”

“She dumped a bucket of water on whomever was the next one to run by the kitchen window.”

Laughing, she asked him about onions next.

My grandfather didn't like onions. Not the smell, taste, look or feel. In 1950, he pulled into the parking lot next to a White Castle when my grandmother was in labor. She didn't think the hospital staff would allow her to eat until after my mother was born. She was hungry and that was the only way to get food fast enough.

Married life was filled with ups and downs. Some were closer to the norm than others. One experience even gave the family a favorite dish. It came about when my grandfather called home to let her know that he was bringing his brothers to dinner that night.

It was in the early fifties. My grandmother worried because she didn't have any grocery money left for the week. She took the trolley to the store and she wouldn't go again for a few more days.

She had enough hamburger meat to make patties for dinner, but not for his brothers. After a quick check of the cabinets, she found pasta. Adding cheese and ketchup she made a dish that left everyone happy. No one had a name for it. They called it crud.

Well, she made it a few more times. Then she put her foot down and told them no more until they came up with a suitable name. Thus, casserole became a weekly dish.

Life was more than what was for dinner. The world believed in work hard, play hard. Thus, the family played Badminton after dinner each night. This now included my grandparents, my mother, her brother, and her sister.

Vacations were generally simple. However, in the late fifties my grandfather convinced her to try camping. He promised her that if she agreed to at least take a look then he’d be willing to go to any other place if she didn’t like it.

She packed up everything, including a dutch oven, and they headed to find adventure. My grandmother ran out of cloth diapers for my aunt on the way.

Laughing, I hear her say, “Sherman! That was when I had to wash one out and hold it out the window to dry as you drove down the road!”

I see my grandfather’s smile now as I hear him say, “I remember it! You were embarrassed, but what else could we do?”

More laughter follows. She says, “That was the time Bob discovered the showers with a pull chain.”

“He went through all his clothes in a day or two. Every time he took a shower, he changed his shirt and shorts.”

“And we were scheduled to stay a week!”

“We went back every year for the longest of time.”

Then came vacations at a beach in South Carolina.

“Oh, Sherman! You have to remember what happened there!”

Laughing, he says, “No way to forget it!”

In one week, my aunt met a guy in the Navy, and he proposed. She graduated from high school that May. My grandparents made her try college for one year. She made it through part of the first semester. School wasn’t too difficult. She just saw it as a social scene.

“Sherman, I’ll never forget that tap on the window in the middle of the night.”

“Me either. I mean it was strange that he thought she would move to the Philippines where he was stationed. Of course, she said no. They took time apart. It was hard on her.”

“Then came that tap, tap, tap. He used his pitchfork! Imagine him driving all the way from where he lived to J’town just so he could tell her how he fell in love with her all over again.”

“He mixed up her bedroom window with ours. Dot, you had to get her up so the two of them could talk.”

“Boy, was I tired all day! The two lovebirds talked all night. He didn’t reenlist and he wanted to marry her.”

On May 19, 1977 my aunt married her Navy guy. Doug was thrilled to be allowed to tie the knot instead of waiting. The possible holdup? It was during March Madness – not always in March. The NCAA was in full swing.

“The only reason I agreed to that date was because we put a television in the bar at the reception.”

“Basketball and football are life in Kentucky, Sherman. Everyone understood the need to watch the game.”

Two other weddings caused joy. One was in March, 1970 when my parents exchanged vows.

“Sue was gorgeous with her dress and veil. Oh, how I worked so hard to make it beautiful for her that day, Sherman.”

“You did a good job, Dot. I know Dave appreciated how nice it was.”

The other was when my uncle said, “I do,” to a nutty woman named Kathleen. I had no idea then just how much she would come to mean to me. She was a special education teacher in Ohio for years and my hero. Never one to let me give up, she managed to get me enrolled in a school for students with special needs. She was friends with the principal, thankfully.

Bob was a quiet guy, speaking when needed. He was smart and thoughtful.

“Sherman, I hope Bob tells the story of 1974 to his boys. They need to know by his example how to handle a disaster.”

“He handled it as calmly as he could. Sue did too. Imagine being at college and you suddenly can’t open an outside door. She must have been worried about Patti.”

“Over ten tornadoes ripped through, leaving Louisville a mess. I still can’t believe he drove home with his car windows shattered. And when she reached Patti, the daycare worker said all the kids rolled on the floor, laughing.”

“Well, she was three then? And Bob had it the worst. Where he worked, the roof was blown off. That bank was only one story.”

My grandparents were no strangers to shocking events. In August of 1965, a series of explosions left workers injured and dead where my grandfather worked. His injuries weren’t as severe as others. In May of 1968, violence broke out a few miles from where my grandfather worked. He and others there were trapped and couldn’t leave until it was safe.

“Those riots were intense. I called you to say I wasn’t going to make it for dinner.”

“I remember how you tried to be calm, Sherman. It was scary out there. I told you that I loved you. Then I prayed.”

Years passed and smoking caught up with my grandmother. My grandfather quit cold turkey. It wasn’t a big deal for him. He knew she needed him to quit.

My grandfather had his own health issues, having heart attacks. It was a nerve-wracking experience with each one. Eventually he had a pacemaker implanted. Then came the news of cancer. Each one suffered from their own battle. My grandmother lost part of her lung to the monster and relied on oxygen for the rest of her life. My grandfather had surgery multiple times for cancer and his heart.

Throughout each up and down they stood by each other. Even in the middle of a harsh winter when my grandmother lost her balance on ice. My grandfather tried to catch her from falling. He ended up on the ground, and they both suffered minor injuries.

Among the storms of life they found plenty of funny moments to carry them through. From Halloween when they dressed as the Green Giant and his sidekick to when they enjoyed house parties and vacations out west for eight weeks at a time.

More grandchildren arrived and eventually great-grandchildren. By the time they both passed, the family tree added new names.

“Shame we missed out being with the family for different events. Right, Dot?”

“Yeah, I agree. But we did have one heck of a time when we were alive. Not always the best experiences. We learned though to appreciate the good.”

“Church picnics, baking cakes, serving as den parents for the Scouts, it was all worth it.”

“Well, I could have lived without falling through the landing at Church.”

“Oh, yeah. I agree.”

“Of course, I learned that I had limits.” “That why you had to be told to get off the roof at the Habitat for Humanity house?”

“Now, Dot. I wasn’t alone and I was safe enough.”

“At least you never fell. Not like that landing that left you with injuries in both legs.”

“One of the kids from the school left me a get well card.”

Laughing, she says, “Yeah, I know. He wrote, ‘Sorry that God’s house fell on you.’ It was the sweetest one.”

My grandparents knew most of J’town. Between their time as volunteers and my grandfather serving on the city council, it was no surprise that we couldn’t get through the store or any restaurant without running into someone they knew.

Some say only fools fall in love. I didn’t ever think of them as fools. I saw them as one of the best examples of true love. Through each fuss they had with each other, through any unpleasant moments, ups and downs of life, they were solid. Others got divorced. Not my grandparents.

Their love was magic from the start. Those coveralls and that director didn’t seem to write history. Yet, that’s exactly what happened. I once asked my grandmother how they stayed together for all their years.

She said, “I think it’s because my generation doesn’t throw something out if it needs repair. Besides, I love him more each day than the previous one.”

“Well, Dot. I’m off to bed.”

“Before you go, do you remember the woman that was interested in you?”

“I can’t recall her name. You used to joke that she was waiting for you to die so she could be my next wife.”

“Mmhmm, and then I joked what if you went first, and everyone laughed.”

My grandparents never worried about death. They didn’t see it as final. Their faith carried them from life here to eternal living in Heaven. I know they still visit. Each time I spot a cardinal, I know they’re watching over us.