My grandparents get married

My grandparents wedding pics. Worth a laugh.

too funny

adorable couple :)

sweet!

they are going to kill me. LOL

naaaah, doubt it ;)

Nice pics- how many years ago did they wed?

Thank you for sharing the pics, they're very sweet.

Grandpa was a studly young guy.

And grams was cute as heck - Miss congeniality, and all that.

I miss that last movie, I did not see with him.

What was he more proud of, the girl or the car?

prom pics from my kid today. Teasing him about the setting.

Sorry - could not resist.

LOL!

Now that you think about it, girls' dresses usually weren't that tight when your grandparents got married. Hope the kids had a nice time at prom.

such a wonderful couple!

and yep, he was a very proud man.
he had alot to be proud of too!

That deserves a real answer.

The thread is a joke, on my 17-yo - he is at his prom, with our very-cute miss congeniality for the state of va, bev.

nut Grandpa was a real person, and he was very impressed with grandma - I will send you the story.

;) I thought that looked like a prom dress.

I look forward to your story.

Flying through Loss
Thanks, Mom, for dragging me up here. You, too, Grandma, and Aunt Emma.
You know, for the first time in my life, I have my entire family sitting in front of me, waiting for me to speak, and they cannot tell me to shut up.
I want to talk about politics.
Well, Grandpa would have – he would have used any opportunity to talk, to anyone, about any subject that he held near and dear to his heart. Mom always told me that Granddad could make friends with anyone, anytime, just to pass the time of day.
I hope that I got that from him, because otherwise, I am just a horrible gossip.
Seriously, Grandpa was born – and died – a conservative. It is my task to carry on, in his stead.
I polled the family – our clan, and I love you all – over the last few days. A number of things were brought up, that I should mention while I am up here.
But let me begin with some of the things that I know about Grandpa, some of the things that made him special.
First and foremost, the man put the word "work" in "work ethic." I have never seen, and probably never will see, a human being more driven to do well. He was determined to finish first at anything he tried, and second-best was not even an option.
Grandpa told me of his running in the Oklahoma State Championships in track – he told me about setting the record in the mile, a record that stood for years, and how he was then hit by a shot-putter in the next event. He thought that the guy had done it on purpose.
He may have been right – One thing about Grandpa's stories is that they always got better with age.
Grandma said once that "He tells a story once, and he likes it – He tells it twice, and he believes it." I loved Granddad's stories, and so did he.
Some of his stories, though, were not exaggerated – He was most definitely a soldier, a sailor, and a statesmen.
In high school, he worked to support his family. As I understand it, he worked from seven AM until noon – he had to be at school at one PM. So he ran from work to school, and ate an apple on the way – including the core, I assume. At least, he always made me eat the apple core.
After high school, Grandpa was rewarded with a scholarship to the University of Arkansas. This was pretty rare, in a day and age when graduating from high school was not exactly the norm.
But that is the road not taken – and it is a good thing for all of us.
Instead, around 1932, he left home with ten dollars in his pocket, and made for Chicago.
Somehow, he became a soldier – Although a city kid, Grandpa somehow wound up in the US Cavalry. How, I have never understood, but he has a military service record that puts him on a US Army horse, in Texas, in the 1930's.
On a horse, leading a packhorse – the horse he was on made a jump, the packhorse didn't. I imagine he fell off.
One of the great beauty's of Granddad's stories is that he never finished them – you had to imagine how it turned out.
And he liked it. We loved it.
Through some mysterious process, he next became an armed guard at a gold mine in the Philippines – In the interest of Grandma's sensibilities, I will skip the details of this part of his life.
But suffice it to say, he liked it.
Then came a Navy career – inspired, I guess, by his army draft notice for W.W.II. He stuck it back in the mailbox, on the advice of a navy-recruiter buddy, who had plied him with alcohol. And on the advice of the same buddy, he joined the Navy for two years.
Only, when he sobered up, he found out that the contract was for six years. I think that made him mad. At least, he was still mad in 1978, when he last mentioned it.
But, he liked it.
He served on the USS Flint in W.W.II, and later on the USS Tidewater. Most of his Navy time, though, he spent on the USS Deskchair.
Thereafter, grandpa took a civil service job, and eventually rose to the rank of GS-15. That, in civilian parlance, is the equivalence of a full-bird colonel. One step away from a general.
For a guy who started out as a private in the Army, this is amazing. I hope, somehow, someday, to do as well.
And he liked it.
Eventually, he gave up military service, and sold real-estate instead. I remember, around 1979 or so, when he was stalling a sale for all he was worth, because of the tax implications. He was determined to game the tax system to his advantage.
And he liked it.
At the time, I was a kid in High School – Granddad spent more time, more of his energy, on us kids than I can imagine. I used to go to his house every day, after school, for a game of chess. I never won.
And he liked that, too.
Along the way, we delivered a few phone books. Actually, a lot of phone books. At a nickel a book, we delivered enough to pay for my Pilots license, and help my brothers with their education.
When I graduated from basic training, Mom tells me that they had to tie Granddad up, to keep him from signing up. I think that he wanted to go to jump school with me.
Personally, I am devastated to have lost my name-sake, if that is the right word; It has always been a point of pride for me, a connection, to know that there were only two of us on this world – Patton Thomas Hudson, and Patton Thomas Cooper.
There are no others.
I will miss the confusion at Christmas.
There is so much that I will miss.
My oldest son – Patrick – got a letter from school yesterday. It outlines the upcoming assignments for the 8th grade.
One of them is to explore the history of the US, in W.W.II., using any resources available.
O course, our greatest resource is gone.
My mother asked me to mention a few tidbits of Grandpa's life - like the fact that he fell in love with Grandma, because she "had the bluest eyes he had ever seen."
She does, by the way.
They met on Bill Bailey's birthday, which was also Grandma's birthday, September 26th, 1942.
Bill, the silly twit, brought Grandma to the train station to meet someone. She met Grandpa, and they were married two months later.
While they were courting, Grandpa would routinely stay late at Grandma's boarding house, and miss the last trolley home to Fort Meyer. I guess his running career was now transformed into a walking one – it has to be a five-mile walk, at least.
Mom also asked that I mention Grandpa's genealogical research, and how he had traced our family lineage back to Noah. We all got a laugh out of that, but Noah was probably comforted to know where his children are.
Many of us have commented on Grandpa's peculiar character – he was often described as an "inchworm." Simply put, that means that he counted everything. He would count the folks that he saw on the bike trail, as he counted his steps on his morning walk, and tell Grandma how many people that he had seen. No matter that he saw them when he walked by them forward, and then saw the same folks as he came back – he would count them all. It was rather egalitarian of him, when you think about it.
In 1992, I was helping Granddad out on his farm in Glade Springs, VA. He had a row a three wild cherry trees that he wanted down.
I had cut down the first one, and sawn it into 20-foot logs, and I was busy wearing out the chainsaw on the second. Cherry is hard wood.
Behind me, I heard chopping, and a loud crack. Granddad had taken his axe, and two wedges, and split one of those 20-foot logs lengthwise.
I was astounded – I would not even have tried to do such a thing.
I guess that he was about 80 at the time.
One thing that stands out for me, is that Grandpa was always willing to lend a hand. Especially, to us, to our family. He might criticize you for needing it, but he would help.
And then came the questions – Why? Why did you need help?
He could be kind of nosy, come to think of it.
When Grandpa was dying, he asked, "Who has the keys? Where is the car? Let's go."
He was ready to go.
Grandpa was both a sinner and a saint – in no way was he perfect.
But he was ours, and we loved him.
Granddad, I love you.