Drinkin', Smokin', Cussin', and Chewin'

Talked to my dad today.  He was laughing about our dear little Alexander Wyant and his love for telling the same joke - over and over and over again.  He cracks himself up when he tells his joke and everyone laughs not necessarily at the joke but at the way he cracks himself up.  In any event, Xander reminded daddy of an Uncle Doyle story.....the preacher came to their house one day and when the preacher asked little Doyle how his mom (Grandma Wyant) was, he said, "she drinks, smokes, cusses and chews." Daddy cracked up laughing at Doyle and I had to laugh at the enjoyment he got from his brother all these years later. I have a feeling Uncle Doyle was not laughing when Grandma found out what he said.  He most likely became acquainted with a switch from the old tree in the back yard.

I hope that this year we all have lots of opportunities to laugh and just crack up at the humor in something daily.  Daddy always told me when I was younger, "He who laughs, lasts."  It's a pretty good little standard to remember. Happy New Year to everyone in my family. Haven't we been blessed this year?

Part 2: The Value of a Sewing Box

I knew when I wrote part one of this blog last week, that there was a part two someplace in Grandma’s sewing box.  I didn’t really know what it was, but I knew there were so many jewels hidden there, that one more was meant to be shared.  Surprisingly, I believe it’s a letter from me to Grandma. 

Earlier this week, our son, Ty, sent me an email asking some peculiar questions.  He is taking a genetics class and he asked me to answer the following questions:  Do you have: 1) a hanging or attached earlobe, 2) a hitchhiker’s thumb, 3) a widow’s peak, and 4) can you roll your tongue?  I answered back, “no, yes, no, yes and here’s another one for you Ty . . . do you have Grandma’s little toenails?”  

Grandma had a very strange little toenail on both of her feet which she hated.  It didn't really look like a regular toenail but rather it was thick and grew more in thickness than in length.  She hated it.  She thought it was ugly and one time when I was a little girl, she pointed out to me that I have it too. It’s hard to explain but if you are a Wyant who has it, you know it.  Try packing these little babies around for a pedicure.  I actually had a pedicurist refuse to do a pedicure on my poor little toes one time.  She willingly did the other eight but kept pointing toward my little toes in a rather exasperated state as if she was looking at a monster or something, saying, “No, no toenail.” Of course I argued with her but she refused and I finally had to take the bottle of fingernail polish and slap it on them myself.  No tip for you sweetie! 

The hands of some Wyant Women

So what part does genetics play with being a Wyant or any other flavor of family?  There really is so much more to learn about than just the shared DNA that flows through our veins. There are also things that were learned within the confines of the Wyant family that we all see remnants of today in our lives – characteristics that were nurtured in the environment of the home in the Beech Hills and sent out to the homes in Washington, Vincennes, New Mexico, Colorado, Danville, and Kentucky and on into the many places that the grandchildren live today.  For example, how many Wyant men tear up with a sentimental thought – Grandpa Wyant.  How many Wyant women wake up in the middle of the night, worrying about one of their kids or another family member – Grandma Wyant. How much of that is DNA and how much of that is environmental?  I don’t really know and scientists still fight over the balance between nature and nurture, but I know both contribute and are important to the answer of “who are you?”

One of the things I learned from Grandma was to write letters and cards and notes to people when you are thinking of them. Sadly, I don’t do such a great job of it anymore – it might be a phone call, or a text, or an email – but I do still try to do it.  As I’ve done this over the years toward people who have been kind to me, touched my heart, or have had an influence in my life, I’ve never regretted it when that person passed away.  It has always brought me comfort to know that I told them how important they were to me and they added something to my life.  Isn’t that what being a human being is all about – the way we collide and mix and bring value and positive elements to the lives of others? Or as Ralph Waldo Emerson says in one of my favorite quotes, “to know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.”

That’s not to say that at times we don’t bring negativity into each other’s lives with our problems and disagreements.  This is the part that is sometimes very hard to bear.  This is the part that sometimes keeps the Wyant women up at night – we worry about the welfare of our friends, acquaintances, but most of all our children.  I cannot tell you how many times I woke up in the middle of the night when my kids were teenagers and young adults and my prayer was “Dear Jesus, just keep them safe from harm until their frontal cortexes close up and that impulse control kicks in.” (Note: Scientists say that the frontal cortex, which is where impulse control is located, is the last part of a child’s brain to develop. Hold on . . . it typically doesn’t reach full development until about age 25!) Sometimes all you can do is pray and yell at them in the morning about how much they are keeping you awake at night.  In Ruth’s essay, she referred to this as Grandma working “the hoot owl shift.” The point is that Grandma woke up in the middle of the night throughout her life worrying about a wide variety of people and I’m pretty confident that she either took action with her worry by praying or writing letters. 

I must have received a letter from Grandma in the summer of 1974 where she told me of her concern for someone in the family.  That letter is gone, but she saved the letter I wrote to her in response and it came back to me after she died.  It reads:

July 19^th, 1974

Dear Grandma,

After reading your letter, telling you how much I love you seems so insignificant. I don’t know if you realize how much you mean to me, and I’m sure you mean more to me than I even realize.  I thank God for my beautiful, beautiful Grandmother who has always shown me Jesus in her life.  Grandma, I share your burden for your children, I want to carry the whole thing for you.  I don’t like to see your heart so heavy but then I guess you wouldn’t be the person you are if you never showed concern. You’re in my prayers.  I’ve prayed for strength and love and openness to our Lord for you.

I was thinking today about how I wished I could go back to when I was little.  The visions I have of our family are so beautiful.  Our family get-togethers were so important to me. I hate the part of growing up that takes you away from your family.  I’ve been thanking God over and over again for the growth and maturity He is giving me but today after reading your letter, I longed for my childhood days so much.  Days when everything was beautiful and there were no dark clouds in my sunshine world.  But God has promised strength to withstand anything, hope for tomorrow and love forever.  There’s so much beauty in that. I really long for our whole family to be one in Christ.  I don’t want us to be a family just by our blood but by Jesus’ blood.  That’s my prayer.

Grandma, thank you for everything you’ve meant to me over the years. You’re so precious and dear to my heart.  The wisdom, guidance, and love that you have shown me can never be repaid.  I want you to know that it’s only through Jesus that I can love and appreciate you the way I do.  His love is never ending!  Stay strong in Him and keep drawing from His fountains.

Love, your granddaughter,

Melinda

P.S. Read Psalms 61

I have no recollection of what was so heavy on Grandma’s heart in July of 1974 but I’m sure I learned how important it is to share the burdens of others from this Godly woman.  Looking back, I can’t even imagine that a 20-year-old girl would have had any solid wisdom to share with her 66-year-old Grandmother but she at the very least knew how much she had helped shape my life and for this I am so thankful. What an amazing family heritage was laid down, genetically and environmentally, with Walb and Bertie and what a responsibility we all have to carry it on wherever we plant our families and our daily lives.

I have the honor and privilege of seeing inside the families of so many children through my job as a counselor.  There is a quote hanging in my office that says “what families have in common the world around is that they are the place where people learn who they are and how to be that way.”  In some families this is a positive and nurturing place where children grow up to repeat the same experience for their own children.  And sadly, in others, the negative cycle continues and some of those families end up at my office door. Every time I find myself in the middle of a family that seems to have no rudder, I have the opportunity to share my professional expertise, my family experience, and my faith, (yes even in a public school).  But an added perk is that I get to spread the seeds that were planted in the Beech Hills – seeds like burden-sharing and the fruits of the spirit - love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control – to people who have no idea where the Beech Hills are.

The beautiful view from the Hamline Chapel cemetary

We all have this duty – within our own families and within our communities.  One of my father’s favorite Bible verses that he quoted to me over the years that really stuck is from Luke, “to whom much is given, much is required.” If I heard this once, I heard it a thousand times.  We are accountable for the knowledge, resources, and abilities that God and family have blessed us with.  If we use it wisely through the help of God, we will be blessed and we will bless others.  And sometimes, when we are carrying burdens like Grandma was carrying in the summer of 1974, we have to seek refuge in the “rock that is higher than I” (Psalm 61).  I’m almost embarrassed that I told my sainted Grandmother to read a Psalm when I was only 20-years-old and knew virtually nothing about the world . . . but considering some of the burdens that I’m currently carrying; perhaps it was more intended for my older self in some odd way.  I find it intriguing that all these years later, a sewing box which is intended to mend and repair, is reaching out and mending me.

Hear my cry, O God;

listen to my prayer.

From the end of the earth I call to you,

when my heart is faint.

Lead me to the rock that is higher than I;

for you are my refuge,

a strong tower against the enemy.

Let me abide in your tent forever,

find refuge under the shelter of your wings.

For you, O God, have heard my vows;

you have given me the heritage of those who fear your name.

Prolong the life of the king;

may his years endure to all generations!

May he be enthroned forever before God;

appoint the steadfast love and faithfulness to watch over him!

So I will always sing praises to your name,

as I pay my vows day after day.  (Psalm 61)

Dear Wyants - Even though miles separate us all, let’s not be faint in our love for each other and our common roots.  None of our families are perfect or without sorrow or burdens, but just like the original Wyants, we have all been richly supplied with the tools to “get through it,” I’m certain of that. Even though some of us know little of the real details, joys, and sorrows of each other’s lives and have grown up and apart in many ways, let’s keep each other perennially in our prayers and uplift each other in times of need, even when we might not even know what the need is.  This is the Wyant family.  This is laid down in each of us if we only remember to honor it. 

Aunt Diane .  .  . you are your mother’s daughter and each time we talk, her love shines through you and I am touched by your tenderness and care and genuine concern for others. 

Uncle Duane . . . each time I hear your voice wobble on the phone, I know Grandpa lives on in the tears that are welling up in your eyes and I might as well be sitting on his knee messing up his hair. I just want to reach through the phone and kiss your beautiful bald head (after I rip the wig off – ha)

Aunt Cherry . . . you are the consummate combination of a Wyant girl and a Wyant boy.  You can tell a story as well as the boys and  all the while embody the sweet spirit and heart of the Wyant women. I love hearing from you each day even if it’s only on Facebook.

 

Daddy (and mother) . . . there really are no words left to say except I love you and you will forever live in my heart.

Cousin Christopher . . . whatever would I do without you?  Your encouragement, your love, your gentle-giant spirit, your wisdom, your heart that is bigger than the world . . . if my little grandson, your namesake, embodies just a part of your being, I will be so thankful.

The remaining children of Walbert and Alberta Wyant prior to 2012

Diane, Duane, Dick and Denny

Reunion 2004

Reunion 2012

The Brent Wyant Family: Mallory, Brent, and Cindy

Uncle Denny and Cousin Christopher Wyant

Cindy Wyant and Lisa Wyant Arbaugh

Dick Wyant remembering the Wyants who have passed away

The Arbaugh family is gaining members!

Beautiful Wyant Women:  Terri, Cindy, Michelle, Melinda, Lisa (mother of the bride) and the most recent Lisa Wyant

Sue Ann, Aunt Cherry, and Rhonda

Some competitive Wyant men

Tyson Wyant as President

President Levi Wyant and Treasurer Brad Wyant

And the beat goes on with more grands . . .

Brad and the youngest Brittany

Greg and Amelie with Christopher

Rhonda and Patrick's family - this is one full transportation vehicle!

Thank you to all of the Wyant family members who have made it easier for me to "breath" in this world simply because you have been and are part of my life.

Part 1: The Value of a Sewing Box

My smart phone is really so smart on a good day.  On other days, it chooses words I didn’t choose and then sends them out to the world,  answers itself when I’m in the middle of a meeting, or suddenly decides to read an entire Facebook posting to me including the http address.

Yesterday was a good day though.  It reminded me that yesterday was my nephew, Jude Wyant’s, 7^th birthday. . . .and that reminder reminded me that today is my Grandmother Wyant’s birthday.  Today she would be 105 years old.  Each year on her birthday, I get her sewing box out and go through the contents.  The handle is broken and it’s not used as a sewing box anymore but it’s a ritual I love and it seems to have a special meaning this year because one of the things I dug out of Brittany’s house rubble was the sewing box I made for her as a young adult. 

My grandmother’s sewing box nearly looks just the way she left it – a storage spot for the things she would need the next time she had to mend or sew.  Things like:

• a 7-inch orange zipper that was purchased for 28 cents in department 3 of an Indiana store
• four garter hooks that I’m sure were meant to replace a broken one at some point in time (time capsule for my young readers, garter hooks were attached to an amazingly cruel looking contraption that was worn by women to hold up nylons because there were no panty hose)
• a thimble and a mother of pearl tracing wheel
• a child’s tie clip
• Uncle Doyle’s broken glasses that he probably asked her to fix (I know these are his because he told me so but couldn’t remember why they would have been in the box)
• Buttons left over from her sewing projects (the buttons I love the most are the ones that she covered to match her outfits – does anyone do that anymore?)
• Unused lace and left-over pattern pieces and 12 cent cards of buttons waiting for the next sewing project

• A pin from the 50s of the head of Christ with the caption, “Inspiration”

It’s now become a memory box and I’ve added things over the years that are special and irreplaceable like:

• the Barbie doll coat that my Grandmother made for my blonde bubble-haired Barbie, which by the way is a testament to her sewing skills.  The coat is made from a remnant of something she had made for herself and is lined in red satin, including the underside of the collar and the sleeves and pockets.  It may not have been the high-fashion Barbie was used to, but it was certainly the warmest because it was made with such love and care to detail
• 
  
  

• funeral memorials of family members that I’ve sadly collected over the year
•  birthday cards and clippings and little gifts that were included like a clip-on book mark that she made and sent to the grandkids one year

• a note from my very young daughter, Brittany, that she wrote after she had been snooping in my closet.  It says “I wish I could of met her.  She sounds very nice.  I wonder what she and he’d think of me.  What do you think?  I wish they didn’t die.  They sound so nice.  I’m sad. And sorry.  How did she have a heart attack? Don’t cry.  I can’t help crying either. Love, Brittany"

• letters – the most valued thing there – letters from my grandmother and other special people.  The letters that I’ve posted from our great grandmother Miller are stored here.

As you might guess, one of the annual rituals involves paging through the letters and cards and shedding a few tears or giggling over childhood memories.  One of the most special letters in that box is a letter she wrote to me when I turned 16.  I’m sharing it because I think it is full of wisdom and love that really shouldn’t be kept within the confines of a sewing box but shared with some of our younger Wyant grandchildren as they become young women and men. I’m sure I’m not the only one who received a letter like this, and that I’m not the only grandchild she said these things to but maybe I’m the only one who kept the letter. In any event, if she were here and had the beautiful meeting of her great grandchildren and now great-great grandchildren, I doubt she would change much in what she’d say.

Well, she might not say “flipped my wig” and she’d probably add some things alongside her cautions about marijuana.  Oh yes, her list would probably be a little longer.  But the general message is still fitting, perhaps even better 43 years later.

March 24, 1970

4:30 A.M.

Dear Melinda,

Every now and then you come before me, since you’ve become a young lady.  I intended, fully intended, to call you back on your birthday to wish you a very happy birthday but our service held so long that night and it was too late.  Then I forgot it.  I hope you don’t think I’ve “flipped my wig” as your generation would say ….ha! ha!  But I woke up with you on my mind and I wonder if it isn’t God talking.

First I thought…you were my first little granddaughter and how proud I was that you were a little girl.  I wanted a little girl so long before I got her.  Why? I don’t know.  Because I’m equally as proud of our fine sons.  Everyone has gained an honest and upright place in life.  All have grown up to be “God fearing” men.  Some stronger than others but all have made good fathers and I’m glad.

But I was somehow thinking of you.  What a dangerous age you’ve been born into and how glad I am that your parents are “God fearing” and capable to lead you and guide you down life’s pathways.

It rather scares me when I sit on the sidelines and see the dangerous pitfalls for fine young people that are stumbling along,  I was thinking of how proud I was of you the night we were at your house, watching you strum your guitar as your little brother tried to follow you along and your fond glances, that came from your very pretty blue eyes as you led him in your folk songs.

How full life can be for you but at 16, the turning point of your life, how empty it could be.  So proud to remember your opinion on the “smoking pot,” Hold on to what God has given you! Choose companions that think and act as you’ve been taught. Because here lies the secret to the “ease or furiousness” of your struggles.

What a contrast to your start of life to your cousin growing up in Spokane, Washington, already at 16 he has been in jail over marijuana.  Hold on to your virtue and treasure it, it’s hard to regain.

In the last few years, I’ve come into contact with so many young people that have just grown up like weeds in a beautiful garden.  No training!  No chance to become a beautiful rose like you have had. Never have been taught to clean their room or take care of their clothes.

So this morning I’m thanking God for your start in life.  Hold fast to that which is good!  Read Ephesians, Chapter 6: 1 – 4.  A beautiful meaningful scripture for children and moms and dads.  Keep close to your church in this dangerous day.

I think Rev. DeSanto is a good man.  But don’t agree with him in many ways.  His standard is too loose, contrary to the Church of God that never condoned mixed bathing (translation from 2013: this means coed-swimming).  It’s a beginning to letting down the bars. And dancing comes next in order.  Your church helps you to have a clean time without dangerous things that can and often do cause young people to lose their virtue.

This may sound silly now but you will see it someday and thank God.  Keep your hand in His.  And thank Him daily for the start in the right direction down a dangerous rocky road. 

Hope you take this like Grandma means it for I love you and am looking forward to being proud of you in your most treasured days ahead.  Graduation! And Mom and Dad can’t think of it yet, but your wedding day.  I feel like God has inspired me to write this in the month of your 16^th birthday.  I love you my first little Granddaughter.

Lovingly,

Grandma Wyant

P.S. So I feel more than ever it is God-inspired looking for something to stress my point, this bit of wisdom is what I found.

And enclosed in the envelope was a poem that she had clipped and included as the “bit of wisdom.” Ruth and Grandma did this all the time . . . it was their version of Facebook!  This is what the clipping says along with her note that was written at the top saying, “I think this is so good.”

Twas a sheep, not a lamb, that went astray in the parable Jesus told:  A grown sheep that had gone astray from the ninty and nine in the fold; Out on a hillside, out in the cold, “Twas a sheep the good shepard sought”; And back to the flock, safe in the fold, “Twas a sheep the good shepard brought”; And why for the sheep should we earnestly long, so earnestly hope and pray? Because there is danger: if they go wrong, they will lead the lambs astray; When the sheep go wrong, it will not be long till the lambs are as wrong as they, And so with the sheep we earnestly plead, for the sake of the lambs today: If the lambs are lost, what a terrible cost some sheep will have to pay.

Grandma Wyant and her first grandchild, Melinda - how blessed I am to be the first but I take
seriously my duty to share what the younger ones might not know when it comes to heritage

So what’s the lesson she was trying to teach me at the age of 16?  My interpretation even at that young age was that it was time to start thinking about the kind of sheep I would become. To me, it was a message received loud and clear . . . childhood is nearly over.  Make good decisions and become a strong sheep so that you don’t lead my great-grandchildren lambs astray.  I want you to get this right because I love you and I don’t want you to pay the price that so many pay.  My grandmother didn’t tell me anything my parents didn’t teach me but for some reason, it stuck in a different way. 

Brittany asked in her sweet little note, “what would she think of me.”  What an amazing question for a five-year old to ask.  A question that I truly asked myself so many times over the years as I struggled to raise my kids and then there it comes, straight out of the mouth of a babe.  This is what I think Brittany, Ashli, and Tyson.  And this is what I want you to remember as you are parenting. I didn’t always get it right but I got it right more often than I got it wrong and the proof of the pudding is in each of you and the way you are living your lives and raising your children.  She would be proud of you and the lives you are living.  She would thank God for the protection and safety that He provided for you in those dangerous years.  And Brittany, she would put her arms around you and say, “oh how I wish you didn’t have to endure the stress of a house fire but you will be even better on the other end of it.  God has a plan for you and your sweet family. Stay strong and seek God's plan for you all."

No parent, if they’re honest, can say that they do/did things perfectly but if the perfection you seek is in the fight to keep them from following a sheep who will lead them astray, that’s pretty darn good.  If it is in sticking to what you believe in and in what you know will bring your children through to the other side of adult hood with some battle scars, but not dead on the battlefield, that’s good parenting. If the perfection is in the way you love them unconditionally even if you don’t like them at the moment, or still being able to guide them consistently despite your own exhaustion, this will pay off with children you can be proud of.  Every parent needs a rudder to keep them upright.  For me, this letter from my grandmother was part of my rudder and I’m just so thankful that she got up to write it at 4:30 A.M. rather than going back to sleep and ignoring a burden that was on her heart.

This blog is dedicated to all of those Wyant great-great grandchildren who are approaching those teen years (because 12 is the new 16, right?) and those amazing Wyant grandchildren and great-grandchildren who are navigating parenting in a pretty scary world. 

The great grandchildren at Hamline Chapel

One of my favorite pictures in Grandma's kitchen - homemade ice cream

I Am My Beloveds and My Beloved is Mine

I’ve been a little busy the last month and dates have slipped up on me.  I rarely miss remembering dates, at least to myself, but June 19^th flew by without a notice this year and without my annual utterance out loud….."Happy Anniversary Grandma and Grandpa….thank you for the foundation and the roots and the love and the high standard which seems impossible to keep sometimes!"

All of my kids have always been intrigued by the love story of my grandparents and the fact that my Grandfather died evidently of a broken heart exactly four weeks after my Grandmother passed.  Years later, as we were standing at their grave, my daughter, Ashli, noticed something that no one in our family had ever noticed to my knowledge.  She said, “Mama, no wondered they died so close together…..look at their names.”  Their gravestone showed that their names were intertwined just as their lives were ~ Walbert and Alberta ~ they were one in the same . . . separated only by a W at the beginning and an A at the end.  I wonder if Grandma ever realized it as a giddy teenager who was falling in love and being courted by this handsome young man. 

Regardless of if they did or not, there was a deep connection between them that everyone recognized and even when they bickered, you saw the twinkle of love in their eyes (and believe me, they could bicker!)  One of the very first formal celebrations of their marriage that I remember was their 40th anniversary.  It was held at the First Church of God in Vincennes, Indiana and everyone except my Aunt Mary Nell and cousin Sue Ann was there.  My grandmother had the added surprise of her sister, Helen flying in from Colorado. For this celebration, Ruth Bobe (I believe) wrote this mini history of their life from 1927 - 1967:

                Once upon a time, away back in June 1927, a shy little maid of Arvada, Colorado married a handsome young fellow who was also a resident of Arvada.  However, this young man was a native of a famous secluded spot called “The Beech Hills,” just six miles south of Monroe City, Indiana.  Honeymoon days were spent in the mountain cottage with frequent trips into the capitol city.  The couple also spent a few months with Grandpa and Grandma Wyant on the old home place before the young groom began his garage work in Arvada.  Five years later, in 1932, the couple had returned to the Indiana farm for keeps.  They now had three little blue-eyed boys, Denny, Dicky, and Doyle.  They loved to play hide-and-go seek in the upstairs rooms of the old farm house.  This family made friends quickly in the Hamline Chapel Church and vicinity.  To the north was Nelsons; to the west, Campbell’s and Uncle Harb and Aunt Cora; to the south, the Holman’s; to the southeast, Will and Lora and their three sons; and directly east lived three women, Grace, Nelle, and Ruth.  In a few days a close friendship began to grow between these two families.  Soon it was a proven fact that neither family could get along without the other.  When a new baby arrived or a sudden illness (unreadable text) from the Poland farm was needed. An exchange system of work often the rule, such as taming a kicky cow or ringing an old sow for the three girls as they were called.

The Colorado mountain cottage where Walb and Bertie began their marriage.  Diane and Dick are pictured.

To the east: the home of the three girls as they were called, Ruth, Nelle, and Grace

The three blue-eyed boys

                In 1937, the family had another member, a brown-eyed boy who had arrived in April 1934, Duane Eugene.  A tragic fire had destroyed the old farm house and a new one was built nearer the highway.  Tricycles soon made beaten paths around the house while mom kept the family well-cared for as well as caring for the neighbor boys.  Dad was busy with Kate and Jewel, rotating crops and fields.  Even though the family was almost 2000 miles away from close relatives, they kept in touch by mail.  Frequent visits by the Miller family as well as the Edwards’ were made.  Likewise, the Indiana Wyants also motored back to Colorado several times.

The new house built closer to the highway. It also burned due to a house fire.

Walb and Bertie with their four boys

1947 found many changes, another house had burned and been replaced with the present home site.  A darling little girl, Diane joined the family in October 1941 then to complete the family, brown-eyed Dwight was added in November 1943.  The four big boys were big enough to go to Petersburg on Saturday night, providing Dad would take them.  They too were big enough to get in on that “exchange work” at the Poland farm. They often wondered how those three women could wear out so many post holes, and Dad demanded that all post holes must be three feet deep or maybe four.  Dad was now plowing with a tractor and mom had a new white range.  Denny and Dick had been graduated from Monroe City High School and Denny had gone in to the armed service in January 1946.

Diane and Dwight playing with real toys.

                As we move into the year, 1957 – my, the changes.  Denny returned from his three years service in 1949; Dick had served two years, returning from Trieste, Italy in 1953; Doyle had graduated in 1949 and completed his three years service.  He returned from Korea in 1955. Duane was graduated in 1952 and was serving in the National Guard. Diane and Dwight were still enjoying their school days.  Dad had rented the farm and was the full time operator of a Phillips 66 station and mom was head cook at Brackens’ Café, selling coffee by the full cup or half cup. In 1954, Melinda arrived and in 1955, grandson, Greg was welcomed into the Wyant family. 

Dick and Doyle home from the service with Dad, Mom, Dwight and Diane

Diane, Dwight, Walb, Bertie, and Doyle at Grandpa's Phillips 66 Station

First granddaughter arrives and is introduced to the life of chickens on the Wyant farm.

Melinda and Greg with Grandpa and a really cool car in the background

Fashionable Aunt Diane and Uncle Dwight with his "Pat Boone" shoes

Christmas get-together at Ruth and Nelle's

                And today, June 19, 1967, marks four decades of your married bliss.  During this last ten years, Duane, Diane, Doyle and Dwight have married bringing Joyce, Jerry, Mary Nell, and Cherry into the clan.  Eight more grandchildren have joined Melinda and Greg, namely Denise, Brent, Michelle, Lisa, Terri, Andy, Sue Ann and Chris.  There have been dark days of sickness, misfortune, accidents and Walb got knocked out and robbed in St. Louis etc, but bright days surpassed the dark days.  Dad was proud of his Saturday help in the corn husking seasons as well as the milking contests which helped fill the old cream can.  Mom kept rigid rules for her teen age boys even if she had to resort to the “Hoot Owl” shift to corral them. Proud moments which you recall are the six commencements when you had reserved seats in the gym.  You are pleased with the accomplishments that each one has made and still is making.  You are to be complimented highly on the fine job you have done in rearing this outstanding family.  Truly, we all say “Happy Anniversary” to a wonderful couple.

Duane, Diane, Dwight, Alberta, Walbert, Doyle, Dick, and Denny

The In-Laws: Joyce, Jerry, Cherry, Alberta, Walbert, Betty, & Mary

The Grandkids up to 1967: Denise, Greg holding Chris, Bertie, Walb, Brent, Melinda
Little Ones: Terri, Lisa, Andy, and Michelle

June 19^th gained double significance when thirty-three years later; Alberta (who was an amazing seamstress) designed and sewed a wedding dress for the only girl in family, Diane. On June 19^th of 1960, Diane slipped the lace and satin dress on and Walbert walked her down the aisle to begin celebrating her marriage to another handsome Indiana boy.

Newlyweds, Jerry and Diane Van Lue ~ June 19, 1960

The seamstress and Mother-of-the-Bride enjoying her daughters receiving line
as flower girls, Star and Melinda look on.

The only Wyant girl - she grew up with 5 brothers and still looked every bit the lady!

Walb and Bertie would celebrate not only their 40^th, but their 50^th and 51^st anniversaries together before they passed away in September and October 1978.  When I remember my grandmother, I think of the verses in Proverbs 31 that speak of a capable wife and when I remember what I saw of the way they lived their lives, I think of this:

Bertie's hands were always busy and she was industrious.  And as a couple, I believe they modeled fairness, caring and integrity to their children and grandchildren so it's very easy to think of them when I think about these things.  

It is so easy to fall short of just these two simple standards in today’s world.  It seems more difficult to be married, to raise children, and to just plain live in general.  Yet, we are supposedly living in improved times.  I am not such a nostalgic animal that I think everything was better in the “old” days, but I frequently do wish for the simplicity of life that seemed to dominate the world of the Wyant children; a time when the issues you dealt with primarily involved your immediate family and your neighboring community.  The shrinking world has brought some amazing things into our lives, but it has also brought the complexity of the world’s problems into our backyards and living rooms.  Life does seem more complicated but I have to believe that if we work to hang on to just a few simple principles, maybe we too can share the same joys that marriage and family from the 20s to the 60s brought. I've sure tried with my own children and plan to keep the family tradition alive and well.

Happy June Anniversary to:

Jerry and Diane ~ June 19^th,

Brad and Beth Wyant ~ June 23

Duane and Joyce Wyant ~ June 3 (we miss you Aunt Joyce)

And to Walbert and Alberta on what would have been their 86^th Wedding Anniversary

We know you are celebrating in heaven with Denny, Doyle, Dwight, Greg and Brent.

Happy 86th in heaven!

Author's Notes: I have always heard that the family returned to Indiana after Denny was born and before Dick was born but Ruth wrote after 5 years and it was read that day.  I will have to check that as well as ask someone to explain "the Poland farm."

Addition from my Aunt Cherry: In 1968... another grandson, Bradley Kent, was added to the family and in 1972, another grandson, Norman Todd, who we all thought was the last grandchild was added. 

He held that position until 1984 when the Wyant family had a great surprise... Diane and Jerry, having been married for 23 years added the last grandson, Jeremy Duane. We only wish that Grandma and Grandpa Wyant could have seen and known about him.

Additional notes from my Uncle Duane: The Poland farm referred to Ruth and Nelle's farm where they raised Poland pigs.  They were prize-winning pigs and according to Uncle Duane, Ruth and Nelle knew how to raise them better than anyone. They are now evidently known as show pigs and they even have their own blog at: http://www.polandshowpigs.blogspot.com/  I wonder what Ruth and Nelle would think of that.....they probably started a trend without knowing it!