And, of course, it didn’t
It wasn’t the right match, they said.
He wasn’t the right boy for her.
He didn’t come from a good enough family.
He wasn’t smart enough.
Good-looking enough.
He wouldn’t provide well for her and any family they might have.
It just wouldn’t work out.
It wouldn’t last.
Her mother in particular was opposed to the whole idea. She didn’t worry, because he was too young to get married there in Oklahoma, that October of 1916, without parental consent — and his father was long out of the picture and his mother was dead.
She didn’t count on them running away to Texas where he would lie about his age and they would get married anyway.
Perhaps she continued to think it.
He wasn’t the right boy for her.
It just wouldn’t work out.
It wouldn’t last.
And, of course, it didn’t.
The marriage that began on the 19th of October 1916, in Wichita County, Texas, between my grandfather Clay Rex Cottrell and my grandmother Opal Robertson1 did come to an end.
On the 21st of September 1970, about a month short of their 54th anniversary. On the day when my grandfather breathed his last breath.2
The day my grandmother — who had by then buried both of her parents and two of her babies — wrote in her journal: “This day was the Darkest Day of my life.”3 A year later, on a note card, she added: “This Day — one year ago — my world came to an end. A face that I had beheld for twenty thousand days was taken from my sight forever-more and the voice I knew for 54 years was forever stilled.”4
Nope, that marriage didn’t last, did it?
Happy anniversary to my grandparents, a little early this year.
SOURCES
- Wichita County, Texas, Marriage Book 5:388, Clay Rex Cottrell and Opal Robertson (1916), marriage license and return; County Clerk’s Office, Wichita Falls. ↩
- Virginia Department of Health, Certificate of Death, state file no. 70-026729, Clay Rex Cottrell (1970); Division of Vital Records, Richmond. ↩
- Opal (Robertson) Cottrell, daily journal entry, 20 September 1970; digital image in possession of granddaughter Paula K. Williams, Virginia. ↩
- Opal (Robertson) Cottrell, handwritten note dated Sept 21 – 1971; original in possession of granddaughter Paula K. Williams, Virginia. ↩
I enjoyed reading this article and I envy your having this type of personal information about some of your ancestors. Usually any factual statement in your articles has a footnote. In fact I always find your footnotes very helpful in my efforts to make use of the material in the article. I was surprised that in this article the many personal comments describing your grandfather lacked a footnote. I’m assuming that they either came from a conversation you had with a member of your family or your grandmother’s diary. Any thoughts you would be willing to share would be appreciated.
Personal conversations with my grandmother and other relatives, Harold, and you’re right: they should have been footnoted.
Lovely! Touching! Thank You for sharing!
What a lovely story.
A beautiful story, Judy. It brought tears to my eyes. I don’t have any written evidence of how my grandmother felt when her husband died suddenly, leaving her a widow at age 39. I have only the fact that even 40 years later, she still spoke of what he would have thought, or liked, or did. The day I found a copy of his burial certificate with her signature and the details of his death, I felt stunned, as if I were witnessing it just moments after she signed it. He was buried 200 miles from where they lived, in a cemetary with many other family members. Forty-five years later, her sons took her body nearly 1000 miles to be buried beside him.
Those two facts alone — that she would still speak of what he would have thought all those years later and that she was buried 1000 miles away from her home just to be buried with him — tell you a lot.
That was so beautiful. Thank you for sharing their story, Judy.
My response to that beautiful love story was somewhat different. I laughed, when I got to the line about the fact that they couldn’t get married because he was underage, so he needed his parents’ signatures–and they were dead. I could already see the top of the marriage certificate, and remembered that he is one of your ancestors. So somehow, this marriage had to have taken place, and lasted “long enough.” What makes it so touching, of course, is that you have her diary to prove how much the marriage, and the man, meant to her over the course of more than half a century. Thank you, not for the first time.
I actually have proof that he lied about his age, Doris: I had his signed sworn statement that he was 21… signed and sworn to when he was barely 18.
You just broke my heart.
Awwwww! So sweet! We would wish that all our ancestors had this type of love story, even though we know that many sadly had to marry for survival or for reasons other than the heart and never knew love. What a treasure to have your grandmother’s own words telling the children who would come from their love of its depth and of her sorrow upon losing him!
Thanks for sharing!
It is by far the sweetest of the sweet stories of my family, for sure.
Judy,
I didn’t doubt for a minute that you had the proof that he was underage. The story wouldn’t have made sense otherwise. What made me laugh is that my eye’s always running a bit ahead of where I’m reading, so when I recognized his name as your ancestor, I knew they actually had married, her mother’s druthers or no. The sweet part is her diary entries, of course, and you hold off on that lovely punch line until the end. The way you structure your stories is part of what makes your blog my favorite to read.
Doris
Thanks so much for the kind words, Doris!
I love this story, Judy, as it reminds me so much of my own. My husband and I were both 18 when we announced we were getting married and just 6 months later we did – by then I had reached the ripe old age of 19. Everyone, including my parents (and quite loudly, I might add), said it wouldn’t work. And when we had a baby just 14 months later, we heard a chorus of it again. But this March we will celebrate our 42nd wedding anniversary so I guess we showed them!
Oh you know that some oldtimer in your family is still shaking her head, muttering, “It’ll never last…” 🙂
That is so precious and poignant! Thanks for sharing.
My wife and I were married early, but her parents seemed to believe in us. Everyone else said it would never last, she was 16 and I was 18 and that was 41 years, 3 children and an even dozen grandkids ago. Her grandmother was our biggest critic and even refused to come to the wedding. She later loved me as much as anyone. Everyone eventually came to believe in us. We have outlasted all of our critics. Those that believed in us to begin with are still around and adore their great grandkids. Unlike some, we waited until she finished High School and even a few years after that to have children, we got to know each other first. She went on to graduate from UF with a Masters Degree in Education. And I simply finished Community College with a Math AA. Each night she tells me “Sweet Dreams” and I tell her “You are my Sweet Reality”
Jim Powell Jr
Wizard of AR
http://www.wizardofar.org/
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Ancient Records Coordinator
Alachua County Clerk of Court
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http://www.facebook.com/ACARVol
That’s a sweet story. Jim, and I’m glad even the doubters finally came around in your case!
This was a sweet read.
My parents drove separate vehicles to their 50th wedding anniversary.
Proving that sometimes togetherness isn’t the only way to make a long journey!
Oh boy. Beautifully written. You are showing me akind-hearted way to approach some very difficult, even shameful experiences of my family members.
Thanks …!
M