Little treasures discovered, mined and written by DBTryon, professional historian, educator, writer, reader and overbearing story teller. (A family tradition?)
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An American Love Story
She was a very attractive rich girl from Denver. Her family had moved there when she was seven. She had three sisters and her dad had the money to retire early. To escape the snowy winters, the family enjoyed long vacations with relatives in Texas. It was there that she met the most handsome man she had ever seen, an athlete. She was smitten and so was he. She had beautiful blue eyes and was petite and saucy. She loved pretty clothes and jewelry. He was dirt poor. His dad had declared bankruptcy. He was one of 7 boys.  They were so poor that his parents moved the kids to the basement and rented out the upstairs to boarders. Times were tough. After months of "courting", on St. Valentine's Day, he gave her a replica of his class ring. They were engaged to be married in July. She was almost 20. A year later, their first born arrived, a darling son. Everyone called him Icky. He was the cutest little kid. He was the darling of everyone who ever met him. He was always smiling and always playful. At the age of four, he suddenly died of scarlet fever, exposed by his baby sitter. They were devastated, crushed. The marriage grew stronger, however.  Every year for the rest their lives, her husband sent her flowers on the day their son died. Another son arrived shortly after. The family traveled everywhere, constantly packing and moving. She estimated 27 times in 37 years. It was on to another place, always hustling and bustling to a new job.  Her husband was constantly traveling. Some times long days, weeks and months they were separated.  Some critics of her husband said he wasn't faithful to her, but there is no evidence of that. He did write over 370 long, passionate love letters to her about his devotion and their plans for the future. He kept being called away. Everyone needed him, the world needed him. He ended up with a big promotion and a move to Washington. A luxurious home was part of his benefits, complete with very expensive furnishings. She insisted on bringing their own bed to these new living quarters. For over 50 years they had always slept in the same bed and it wasn't going to change now. They had a wonderful life together and apart. After retirement, they finally bought their first home, a beautiful farm where they lived happily ever after in relative seclusion. They loved their grand kids and entertained. (Lots of golf and bridge) Her husband's health started to fade. On the day her husband died, his last words to the world were............. "I love my wife, I love my family and I love my country." Sitting at his bed side,  there were tears in Mamie Eisenhower's eyes. Oh, by the way, that house in Washington DC was The White House and it was their original bed that had to be moved there. The others just were not right. After the presidency, the bed was moved to their farm in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. A salute to Mamie and Dwight.............Living The American Dream..............