In a sense, you could say that Grandma and Grandpa had a fairytale marriage. Grandpa was a recruiting sergeant from the big city in the US Army when he and Grandma met in the small town of International Falls, Minnesota. On horseback* in his uniform Grandpa looked so handsome. How could a woman keep herself from falling in love with such a debonair soldier?

As it is with fairytales, this one, too, needs the element of evil. In the tale surrounding the two lovers who were to become my Grandma and Grandpa it was the Catholic priest in International Falls. When the young couple came and asked him to marry them, he required of them a copy of their baptismal certificates. Grandma had hers. Grandpa had none.

Grandma explained to the priest that the church in New York City where Grandpa had been baptized had burned down, destroying all the church records. Therefore, it would be impossible to provide a copy of a baptismal certificate. Either the priest was a stickler for regulations, or he didn’t believe Grandma’s story. In any case, he refused to marry them.

Then – wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles—my Catholic grandmother – at times more Catholic than the pope – asked the Methodist minister to marry them. The pastor, William W. Dale, didn’t ask any embarrassing questions and united Grandma and Grandpa in marriage on January 20, 1920. Grandma’s sister Mary and brother Joseph J. Rauscher, Jr. were the witnesses.