Ann & John

Those are my grandparents on my Mom's side. Nana and Papa (Grandpa and Grandma were used on my Dad's side). I really love this picture. Nana was 15 when it was taken, and the back reads "Summer of 1939." They were married that same year.

Ann won beauty pageants in her day, and she really just sparkled with a sassy little sweetness that never went unnoticed (the sass for the rest of the world, the sweet reserved for those she loved). She tried to use the attention she got from other men to get the attention of her own husband, but I've grown up under the impression that it never worked out that way. She used to call each of us "sugarplum," even on her death bed she was calling us sugarplums. And she had stories about the depression; the dresses she wore were ones her Mom had made out of burlap potato sacks, and they'd eat lard sandwiches for lunch. "It's like Crisco," she told me.

John was a scrappy, wiry man who lacked any type of social grace or compassion. I'm not sure if he was born in this awful condition, or if the war really did change him forever. He was sent to the Philippines during WWII, and I only heard him make reference to it once. He said something about waking up next to men with their heads cut off. I can't imagine what that'd do to a person's psyche, but regardless, he was a physically abusive alcoholic (despite what sugar coated bullshit some of his children might tell you..I guess I don't really blame them though).

Although I really don't have many memories indicating so, I was Papa's favorite granchild (I'll never hear the end of it from my cousin Jen). I guess the fact that he even paid attention to me at all meant that he loved me, and maybe I was just supposed to know that as a kid. But I didn't, and as I grew older I felt nothing but resentment towards him. He hurt a lot of people in ways that he didn't even know. And I guess since he really didn't know, it was hard for some people to hold it against him. But for whatever "cold-hearted" reason, it wasn't hard for me to hold it against him at all...

I can remember us planting cucumbers in the back yard together, but I can also remember him calling me a "fat ass kid" every time I wanted a juicebox or a popsicle. And I can remember him letting me color the driveway pink with chalk, but making me come inside the house when the "chocolate drops" across the street wanted to come color with me. After I turned 18, the first thing out of his mouth every time he saw me was, "What the hell is wrong with you, ya old maid?! Go make some babies of your own!" Or "What the hell are you wasting your parents money for going to college?! Can't ya just find a husband already??" He was telling me this when I was 19 years old. And he was totally serious.

As a couple, Ann and John would live to see 6 children, 15 grandchildren, and 13 great grandchildren. They would be married for over 55 years. Bravo, kids. Bra-vo.

Nana would throw little fits from time to time and try to put Papa in his place, not speaking to him for days at a time, even leaving him on occasion. But in the end he never changed, and in the end she always came back. And she would continue to come back until the day she died. My head can't quite figure out why, but my heart knows the answer...

"Love is patient, love is kind...Love is not forward or self seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." - 1 Corinthians 3:4-7

I understand all that, and I've now felt for myself a love so strong it's blind to wrongdoing. But what I don't understand is why she was constantly defending him. She always had a reason, she always had an excuse, and she could always justify what he was. And there's definitely something really noble in that, but come on, everyone KNEW what an asshole he was. We didn't need her to explain it to us, we just knew he was mean. So who did she think she was kidding? None of us were oblivious to the fact that she was married to Archie Bunker, but I think maybe she was.

Maybe if she'd stepped aside and let someone rip him a new asshole once or twice, he wouldn't have gotten as belligerent as he always did. Maybe he would have questioned his antics on occasion if she'd tucked away a little of the love and respect she had for him and saved some of it for herself. Maybe he would have examined his non-existent relationships with people if she'd let him deal with the consequences of his behavior for once.

"It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages." - Friedrich Nietzsche

Or maybe things would have been better if he'd treated her as a friend before he acted as her keeper. Maybe he would have held himself more accountable for his actions if he'd taken on his wife first as a friend, and then as a cook. Maybe he would have learned to accept responsibility for his harmful words if he'd looked for the respect and advice of his friend before he looked for someone to batter. And maybe he wouldn't have been hitting on a waitress all the time if he'd just taken a moment to glance across the table at his beautiful best friend, his biggest fan, his most devoted companion.

When Nana died, I wondered if Papa would have some regrets. He'd treated unfairly the one who'd loved him most, and I wondered if he'd ever see it. He was a lonely old man who'd made one real friend throughout his entire life, and now she was gone. I witnessed it humble him somehow, very slightly, but nontheless. It turns out that there was a heart in there after all, and I think his last few years were miserable without his better half. I think he realized how much she contributed to his happiness, and how much pride she sacrificed to love him.

My Grandparents are both gone now, so I guess the semantics of their relationship are really of no significance at this point. The only conclusion I can come to is that, wherever they are, Ann and John are there together. Because some bonds are everlasting. And that's deeper than any semantics.