That is how old I would be if I managed to live to see my 70th wedding anniversary to Bob. Because I didn't get married to him when I was 19. Like my grandmother did when she married my grandfather who was a ripe old 21 years old himself. I present to you Agnes and Tony, circa roughly 70 years ago:
Those two crazy kids are celebrating their 70th anniversary today. It also happens to be my grandfather's 91st birthday.
In 70 years they have raised three daughters, and have 12 grandchildren and 9 great grandchildren. We didn't see them a lot when I was growing up, since they lived in Minnesota most of that time, and we didn't. My grandfather traveled for work and often found himself in our general area, so we would see him more often than we saw the two of them together. I remember him attempting to teach me Italian words or phrases. It didn't work very well but I always liked trying. They were the antithesis in many ways to my other grandparents. These two were always the swanky pair, the jet setting pair. I have loved having them as my grandparents and am glad they have stuck around long enough to get to know Cooper.
70 years is a freaking long time to be alive, never mind being married to the same person for that long. I think it is a testament to lasting love, stubborness, and ultimately being too tired to do anything else. I jest. Mostly.
Happy Anniversary you guys. Happy Birthday Grandpa.