Love Story

(& don’t worry, it’s not about me!)

The “L-word” is a bit over-used (& abused) in my opinion. We use the same word to describe our fondness for a tv show, coffee & shoes as we do our deep affection for our family & friends. But true love, not the sappy chic-flick kind of love, but the real deal… love that never fails… I see most clearly in the wrinkled faces of Granny & Grandan.

They’ve been worried for weeks about the date of their anniversary... afraid that at 94 & 95 they might forget to remember to that special day. One day the goose & I dropped by to find Granny shuffling through old papers, trying to find the date of their wedding written amongst her list of birthdates. Grandan, who is usually sleeping, was wide awake & the happiest to see us I think he’s ever been.

He wanted someone to tell them (again) when their anniversary was (though Granny denied not knowing). Once reminded, all was right in their world again, & Grandan fell promptly back to sleep.

When the big day arrived, Granny and Grandan were settled in the den while their helper was working in the kitchen when she heard a strange sound… Grandan was singing. As she puts it “I runned in there because I thought somebody’d flipped out!” But to her surprise, there sat the 94 year-old man singing to his 95 year-old bride, and I quote… “she was just a grinnin’!” He couldn’t remember all of the words, but here is what he tried to sing:

On the farmhouse veranda,
There sat Silas and Miranda,
Thinking of the days gone by.
Said he "Dearie, don't be weary,
You were always bright and cheery,
But a tear, dear, dims your eye.
Said she "They're tears of gladness,
Silas, they're not tears of sadness,
It is fifty years today since we were wed.
 Then the old man's dim eyes brightened,
And his stern old hear, it lightened,
As he turned to her and said:


Put on your old grey bonnet
With the blue ribbon on it,
While I hitch old Dobbin to the shay,
And through the fields of clover,
We'll drive to Dover,
On our golden wedding day.

I was in the same old bonnet,
With the same blue ribbon on it,
In the old shay, by his side,
That he drove her up to Dover,
Through the same old fields of clover
To become his happy bride.


The birds were sweetly singing
And the same old bells were ringing,
As they passed the quaint old church where they wed,
And that night when the stars were gleaming,
The old couple lay a-dreaming,
Dreaming of the words he said:


Put on your old grey bonnet
With the blue ribbon on it,
While I hitch old Dobbin to the shay,
And through the fields of clover,
We'll drive to Dover,
On our golden wedding day.

I recounted this story to my husband (as he tried to go to sleep that night) & I asked him, who NEVER EVER sings (Seriously, I have never heard him so much as hum a tune), if he would sing to me when we are old. He chuckled & replied, “I’ll sing to you ... after I’ve flipped out.” Well, as long as we get to flip out together, I guess that’s ok. I’ll wait…. Because that’s love.