I often imagine how my great grandmother must have felt in May 1910, standing at the door of her home in West Bend, Wisconsin, holding a brand new baby -- born April 28, 1910, the first of nine babies, the start of her family -- when the census enumerator came 'round. He, of course, needed to count only the people who made up the household as of April 1st. Grampa didn't count!
They met at a Saturday night dance in 1931. He was an especially good waltzer!*
There are about a million photographs of my grandpa sitting in a boat, fishing in a boat, fishing from the shore, sitting on the shore. The last one, with Grandpa and my uncle and the new Buick reminds me a lot of one of me and my dad and the Continental (minus the clubs).
*From "A Look Back," a memoir by my grandmother.