It’s been awhile since I did this but this is the next installment in 10 dates. I thought it would be cool to if given the chance pick 10 dates to visit in the past. The next one is a personal one and although it is fourth on my list, remember the list isn’t in any particular order.

4. December 15, 1945 – The Wedding of My Grandparents – South Philadelphia

My dad’s mom loved to tell stories and everyone loved to listen to them because they were always so colorful. She grew up a poor Irish Catholic in an Italian neighborhood in South Philly. Her father was a master plumber but like most Irish, he drank away all the money. She would tell stories of her father coming home drunk and putting a pot of spaghetti on his head and putting meatballs in his pockets. He would then proceed to walk down 9^th street throwing the meatballs at kids because he was pissed his daughters were cooking Italian food. The way she told the stories made the absurd sound casual and through her I learned the art of storytelling.

I’ve never met anyone who was able to tell a story like my grandmother and I was thrilled when my aunt recently gave me a cassette tape of my cousin interviewing my grandmother. It felt like magic to once again hear her voice and have stories of her childhood come to life. One story on the tape that I had yet to hear was how she met and married my grandfather. They had lived in the same neighborhood and one day my grandfather asked her out on a date. She politely declined because she knew he was going with this other girl. That other girl threatened to cut my grandmother’s face with a milk bottle and she responded with, “honey this face is too pretty for you to scar.” My grandfather was persistent and soon they were going together and after the war they got married.

Their wedding took place December 15, 1945 in South Philly. Their wedding was no grand affair, they made sandwiches the night before and only had beer and whiskey at the reception. I do not know if my great grandfather showed up sober or drunk and caused some antics but judging by his track record I will go with the later. As great as my grandmother was at telling stories to be able to go back and see a story of hers actually come to life would be amazing. To finally see my grandparents young, to meet that man who loved to wear spaghetti on his head, to see the old neighborhood as she remembered it would be a sensory overload and I would enjoy every moment of it.

Their wedding picture, the one at the top of this blog, hung in their house for as long as I could remember. As a kid I could not comprehend that the people in the photo were my grandparents and I had wished for years that picture would come to life. This would be my chance and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.