BY-WAYS -11/6/41 - Golden Wedding Party (Hallowe'en). Wedding Announcement - October 31
When ghosts and black witches
And goblins in stitches
And planning dire things in the dark.
When cherubs turn pirates,
And the portly one gyrates
And having a wonderful lark.
There is surely a witchery about Hallowe'en - that even a relentless drizzle can't squelch. Today we housewives laid in our usual supply of apples and candy and popcorn for the "Hallowe'eners." We have "hand-outs" in Cleveland and environs. When it rained steadily from 4 p.m. on we said, "Poor little kids. This will spoil their plans." Spoil, nothing. They dressed up, donned their hideous masks, and defied the rain. More than one fond mama paraded the streets, holding an umbrella over her tiny, foraging offspring. Daddy Virgil and I were glad our boys had parties to go to - Virgil, Jr. with his Sunday school department, and Charlie, in the neighborhood. Virgil won the prize for the most "economical" costume, which was the outlandish one his father wore to the hobo party - faded, shabby overalls - six sizes too large for either of them, tattered shirt, and size 12 shoe -heavy and clum-clump-clumpy. Charlie was "Mortimer Snerd" for the evening - not only in costume, but voice. Charlie's fond imitation of Mortimer's deep voice must be the "escape" from his own, which is just like Estelle's, over the telephone. It drives him "nuts" as he expresses it, when people call him "Estelle" over the wires. In our town, Halloween is not confined to the youngsters. Thursday night the Cleveland Press held their sixth Golden Wedding party for all couples, married 50 years or more, who sent in their names. Four hundred couples attended this grand party in one of our swankiest hotels - Hotel Carter. The huge "Rainbow Room" was elaborately decorated in Halloween attire. Mother and Father Taylor were eligible for the first time. I had the pleasure of driving them down, and "horning in" on the party for a while. If the celebrants had not been adorned with festive Halloween hats and caps and bonnets, those 800 heads would have been like a "silvery sea," wouldn't they? Oh, they were a grand sight! There is something so stately and serene and beautiful about a couple who have learned, "not only how to live, but how to live together," as our Press editor expressed it.
There were many prizes: For the best dancing couple; for the longest married; for the oldest (adding their ages); for the couple having the most descendants. The winners in this last contest had 61 children, grandchildren and g.g. Somehow, I thought Mother and Dad the handsomest and the spryest couple there. But there were no beauty prizes - and Dad doesn't dance - to Mother's regret. Some of the highest-paid entertainers in the city were there, to amuse and entertain. Not a dull moment. I left soon after the fun started, to do some writing upstairs. (A hotel mezzanine is a grand place to write). But the music kept drifting up, and tormenting me. I had to go down and watch them - through glass doors. St. Peter wouldn't let us ordinary mortals in. A woman of about 67 joined our waiting group. I wondered about her. Had her husband been unable to join her? And had an irrepressible longing made her come down and stand, gazing into the paradise she might not enter? Along about 10 o'clock (the party started promptly at 7:30) the sweetest, gayest little old lady, with snow-white hair, (wave-set), found her way out of that throng, and came toward our door. "Oh," exclaimed our 67-or-8-year-old, with that breathless gasp of pride, "Here comes Mamma." She opened the door wide. The little queen glided through. "Hello, mamma dear! Are you having a good time?" And she kissed her. Yes, mamma was having a wonderful time. She and Papa had won the silver dish - the prize - for being the oldest couple. And Daughter turned, to tell us all, with unforgettable pride, "Mamma's 88."***
I could write another column just about those dear souls at that party - but I have an announcement to make. At first, I was going to send a formal announcement. But you dear readers of mine seem so close to me that I want to tell you in this more intimate way. Our only daughter, Estelle, is to be married next Saturday, Nov. 8th, to Mr. Thomas A. Young, whose home address is Mayfield Heights, a neighboring village, but whose present address is Fort Sheridan, Ill. It will be a quiet home wedding. They were to have been married at Christmas time. But since the maneuvers in La., an early furlough has been granted the boys of the Second Army. Tommy's captain advised him to "get his marrying done in November, for we don't know where we might be at Christmas." And so our young people - the life-blood of our country - must take their happiness on the wing. We parents have faith that it will turn out all right - because their purpose is right. Tommy is a fine boy. Out of a mother's full heart I ask for your prayers. If you have found the recipe for enduring wedded happiness, such as witnessed at that party Thursday night, would you mind sharing it with our young folks?
Florence B. Taylor
My heart goes out to that marvelously brave couple on Kiski hill, who are giving so much, and taking it like thoroughbreds.
Florence B. Taylor
Next -11/13/41 - Tom and Estelle's Wedding