By Lillian Lesperance

Seventy years ago on January 23, 1931, we began our adventure! It was a cold, blustery winters morning when Grandpa and I left my parent's home at 721 Thayer Avenue and jumped into a borrowed Model A Ford Coupe! We knew what our destination was, but no one else did. We were supposed to go to Cleveland to supposedly see an auto show and to get my "Fuzzy Bear" coat to give to Evelyn, my youngest sister.

At the time, I was living in an apartment with four other girls while attending White Cross School of Cosmetology. Instead, we drove east to Westfield, New York, found a Catholic church and parish and were married! But not so fast! We were there from 12 noon until 3 p.m. While Grandpa was at church for confession, the priest talked to me asking me to sign a pledge that our children would be raised as Catholics. I was crying when Grandpa returned. He said to the priest, "We do not have to get married if you don't want to marry us, we'll walk down the street to the first church we come to." (The priest did marry us as the certificate shows, but not until he called the Bishop in Cleveland for dispensation. It cost an extra $15.)

We headed back to Cleveland to supposedly attend an auto show (and deliver the coat) and lo and behold, on the street car in front of us, was a large placard reading "Cleveland Auto Show January 24." Luckily, we were never questioned about the discrepancy in dates.

I first met Grandpa at a birthday party at Evelyn Carey's house. I was 12, and he was 13 (I can still show you the house on 8^th Street). We played "Post Office" a well-known party game in which each girl was given a number. When the number was called, a boy answered the call by going to the caller with a "letter" (a kiss!) All I can remember is that my number was called by a cute guy everyone called "Frenchy." I dont remember the actual kiss I must have been scared to death! I do remember that each time "Frenchy" was Postman, my number was called! But Grandpa did not really come into my life until four or five years later when we were both in high school.

One day, walking home from school, he caught up with me. I remember the corner, Hubbard Street and Lake Avenue. I remember because I said, "You know Frenchy, if you were just a little taller, I'd date you." What a preposterous statement! Evidently, he overlooked or ignored it because shortly after, he asked to take me to the county track meet in Jefferson. I went with him, but all I can remember is we drove to the meet alone in his dad's car, a Dodge, and it was a beautiful, sunny and warm day in late spring.

I guess that was our "first date." We did go roller skating one evening as well. Walnut Boulevard Extension had been newly paved all the way to the end at what was then Highland Beach Park. It was a grassy park overlooking the lake. At the time, there were four rows of trees, and people picnicked under the trees, and the park was on a cliff with the beach and lake below. As teens, we swam at Walnut Beach, the public beach with a large bathhouse and pavilion. Anyway, Walnut Boulevard was a great place to skate. Grandpa skated with one skate!

He walked me home that night - but not to 721 Thayer - but to Myrtle Avenue and Lake Road. As we said good night, I reached over and kissed him full on the mouth!! Grandpa always remembered it because he was stunned!

Schoolwork and housework took up most of my time. Coming from a large family, there were always chores to do. But there came a time when I began to see Grandpa more until my sister, Vi (who was 3 years older) told my folks.

She said, "Lillian is seeing an Italian!" Now in those days, there was unfortunately a lot of animosity between the Finns and the Italians, and my father told us more than once that the absolute worst thing we could EVER do, was bring home an Italian. Times were much different then.

I said, "He's not Italian, hes French."

"Next thing to it," she said.

So much later when it was time for my parents to see who I was more-or-less dating, I told the couple who came to my house with Grandpa, "Please don't call him "Frenchy" in front of my folks, call him Dave." And that's when he lost his nickname as far as I was concerned he was Dave from then on.

I didn't date anyone else but Grandpa. Oh, maybe a walk home from school affairs or a movie and ice cream at Candyland, but nothing serious. Grandpa began his sailing career early in his teens. When I say "sailing" don't imagine sails as in sailboats. His first job was in the galley of an ore freighter. Later, he worked in the fire hold as a coal passer. That department is where he stayed, working up to Second Assistant Engineer. Because he chose sailing the Great Lakes as his father had and grandfather before him, it meant that he was away for months at a time.

Meanwhile, school continued for me. Our Prom took place in the spring. All of that fussing and fuming and preparations for one particular school function! I was a Junior my first Prom. My mother had made a pale yellow Chiffon dress for my sister Vi, who was finishing a teacher's course in Michigan. So, it was my privilege to wear it to the Prom. I was so excited! I was on the program performing a solo entitled "In the Garden of Tomorrow." I was asked to attend by a fellow student, president of the Junior class!

Fred was nice, well liked by the class, clean, neat and Finnish (much approved by my folks). He drove a big touring car. To top it off, my so-called friends seated me beside the Superintendent, Mr. Wenner. I was frightened and nervous.

The banquet, held in the large dining room of the Hotel Ashtabula, went well. I have the program booklet somewhere in my "cache of memories" (hope I can find it). After the dinner, we were dancing, when all of a sudden, I was paged over the loud speaker! Someone wanted to see me downstairs in the lobby! I started down the wide marble stairs (the Hotel Ashtabula was a grand place at the time), and there looking up at me was Grandpa!

Can you guess what I did? I left the Prom with Grandpa! Never an explanation to anyone, leaving my Prom date stranded! I paid dearly for that decision. I was out of "the circle" in my Senior year, but it was okay with me, I was David's girl! The worst part was Grandpa didn't have his dad's car so we rode home on the streetcar, yellow Chiffon dress and all!

Many years later, I apologized to Fred. By then, he was married to Eve Carey. He told me he understood. Grandpa, too, said it was a terrible thing to do, Fred was such a nice guy. I suppose I should have been honored being asked to the Prom by the president of the class, but Grandpa was the guy for me!

Our first stop in Ashtabula as Mr. and Mrs. Lesperance was to leave my wedding ring and certificate with my brother, Rufus and his wife Betty. In October, I would be of legal age, 21. Ma and I planned a party in celebration. The Saturday night before the dinner, I finally told my mother about our elopement. She was hanging clean curtains in the dining room up on a ladder with her arms up (meanwhile coping with very high blood pressure) when I broke the news!

We walked into the kitchen where my dad was eating a snack. Ma told him. Not a word from him, but the tightening of his jaw. "Why didn't you tell us? We knew you and David were serious."

That Sunday morning, my mother (who was still angry I had "cheated" her out of planning a wedding) picked late blooming flowers and made a beautiful corsage of Dahlias, Asters and fern, complete with a satin ribbon. She pinned it on my shoulder and said, "Now go and tell Mrs. Mello." (our neighbor)

"Why?" I asked. I never understood maybe because they, too, were members of  "Mother of Sorrow." I do know that two years and nine months later on October 24, 1933, Mrs. Mello was one of the first to see David Lee born at 7 a.m. that morning.

Seventy years of being together ended December 12, 2001 when Grandpa passed away. Our journey was full of hills and valleys, but we coped with the bad and thanked God for the good. Grandpa left me with a huge "treasure chest" of memories. My days are filled with them, and I like to pick several daily and reminisce. Uncle Joe once asked me in one word to describe the reason for our lengthy marriage. Perseverance. Perseverance compounded with LOVE!

That's it. That's the story. It never changes, and it's all true. With all of my love to my grandchildren and great grandchildren.

Your ever-loving Grandma

2002