I never intended lunch with my mom’s cousin, Geraldine, to become an interview, but my natural curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t stop asking questions as she recited years worth of memories. Gerri, as she’s affectionally known, was born in 1928 and has lived through The Great Depression, WWI, WWII, Korean War, Vietnam War, Gulf War, and so much more, so her stories were endless. Next month, Gerri will turn 94, but she has the most amazing outlook on life. No point in sitting around when I can be up and moving is Gerri’s philosophy. Her quick whit and funny one-liners had me laughing out loud, and she shows no signs of slowing down! 
(Gerri, pictured middle, with my mom and me)
Gerri moved to a small farming town outside Dayton, Ohio in the seventh grade. “Dale [her brother] and I just hated it here. Wanted to move every day until I met Johnny.” I asked how old she was when she met Johnny. “Fourteen. And he was so good looking. So good looking.” Then she giggled like a schoolgirl and her entire countenance changed. Johnny, five years her senior, worked out of state to help provide money for his family and came home during the summers. Gerri told me she knew she’d marry him one day. Her daddy made her wait until she was twenty-two to marry and she said she thought she’d just die waiting.
Gerri’s life has not been all roses. The love of her life, Johnny, sadly passed away from colon cancer thirty-eight years ago. Her son, who apparently has the looks and charisma of his father, has had multiple women pining for his attention, and his wife, Kay, whom everyone loved, passed away from breast cancer leaving behind two little girls ages three and four. Gerri stepped in to help raise her granddaughters who struggled with the loss of their mom at such a young age. The girls, now mothers of their own, are the pride and joy of Gerri’s life. “Their wonderful mothers,” she said, smiling. In addition to raising the girls, she worked for thirty years in the trucking industry. She recalled several men at first had a problem working for a woman but told us, “If you carry yourself like a lady, they treat you like a lady. I never had a problem after that.”
As she gave me a tour of her home, I couldn’t help but notice that nearly every sentence contained a memory of Johnny. She and Johnny built their home together, and in each room, something about him crept into the conversation, from a trinket to a how they designed the fireplace off center so they could add more bedrooms. She opened the door to a large room she called the party room and recalled, “I couldn’t just sit around and be sad after Johnny died, so I put three tables in here and two in the living room and invited people over for Euchre. Then I fed everyone. That’s how I kept from being lonely.”
I noticed a framed poster of Johnny in his Army uniform with the words “Hometown Hero World War I” and asked Gerri about it. Her eyes twinkled. “Johnny served two years. The girls had it framed for me.” Then we sat and looked at pictures and spoke of the great-grandchildren. She even shared stories of my grandparents that I had never before heard. “Dorothy named us. Did you know that?” she asked my mom. Dorothy is my Gramma, and my mom was surprised to hear this story. “Dorothy told her sister if she ever had children, she’d name them Geraldine and Dale. But when Dorothy took too long to have children, Mama used the names for herself. That’s how Dale and got our names.”
As the day progressed, we had to say goodbye, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Gerri and the lasting love she had for her husband. Her dedication left an impression on me and had me wondering, is love like that still possible? And is it possible to be a strong woman and still be treated like a lady? By the time I’m ninety-four, I want to still be smiling when my husband’s name is mentioned and giggling like a teenager. I want my boys to remember me as strong and hard-working, but a lady who loved them and their dad with all her heart.
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Photo credit Micheile Dot at Unsplash.com
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