Today would have been my parents’ 61st wedding anniversary. I think of them both every day, but especially so on their anniversary and birthdays. My parents were kind, generous, hard-working people who never had much in terms of financial or material means but gave of themselves to so many.
My mother always believed that there was always someone who had it worse than they did, and tried to help others in need whenever she could. She always had fresh baked goods in the house, known for her sugar cookies and pies, and she was happiest when surrounded by children. After raising her own three children, she helped care for my son and my nieces, as well as babysitting for other people’s children. She was the mom that everyone came to in the neighbor when something went wrong or they were injured.
My father was the hardest working man I ever met. Even when he wasn’t working, he was working. We used to joke that he wore his work uniforms all the time; that was the role he was most comfortable with. Not big on words or other displays of affection, my father showed his love by (what else?) acts of service. You never knew when he was going to show up at the house to mow or weed whack, wash the car or the windows, or whatever household task was on your list.
I have been working on a photo scanning project for a few years now (I do it in fits and starts), and I love looking at photos of them when they were young. I even found a few from their dating years. The photos below are from 1959, 1960 and 1964 (obviously the one with my older brother and me).
I hope they knew how much they meant to me. I am grateful to have had them for my parents.
IMDb: Remembrance (1982)