There follows an essay about my great-grandfather Grover Town and his two wives, Lottie Spurr and Daphne Record. 

Grover Town was a straight-laced, upstanding gentleman.  Unusually tall among men of his generation, he surveyed the world with a stern, structured face that made him look more imposing than perhaps he was.  An old-fashioned man, he always wore a suit, even after bellbottoms and love beads had become popular with his grandchildren.  He was a man of morals and a strong constitution.

As a young man, Grover was strong and sure of himself.  Once he had made up his mind about something, there was no convincing him otherwise.  When he met Lottie Spurr, he quickly fell in love with her.  They were both older siblings of large farming families, so they were able to relate well to each other.  Though they were young, they had no reservations about starting a life and a family together.   

Even as a young girl, Lottie Spurr was strikingly beautiful.  Her features gave her a perpetually uncertain look, and her eyes betrayed a hint of fear.  Thrown into adulthood before her time, she wore sophisticated styles that almost hid her girlish figure.  Her light-colored curls were drawn back in a womanly bun, and her elegant shirts were always starched tightly at the neck.  Her outward appearance was prim, but the careful eye could see much more than the well-groomed young lady that was presented.  At a young age, Lottie was already a young lady and well-versed in both farm life and the social skills expected of a middle class woman. 

On April 16^th, 1905, Lottie married twenty year old Grover Town.  She was seventeen years old.  At the time of their wedding, Lottie had just barely grown into a feminine body.  Her curves did not look natural on a girl of her age and weight, and she was still dressing in styles that transcended her years.  Three short years later, Lottie had given birth to her first child.

Lottie and Grover’s relationship as husband and wife started out awkward and shy because they were so young.  Unsure how to act together, they stood a reasonable distance apart and refrained from public displays of affection.  But in time they grew to love each other deeply, and their marriage was healthy and strong.  Their marriage lasted for thirty-seven years, and they had five children together.  Everyone loved Lottie’s carefree personality and kind heart.  Her children enjoyed her company, and Grover doted on her with pride.    

In 1942, at the age of fifty-four, Lottie died after a long battle with cancer.  Her children were heart-broken.  Lottie’s death had a profound effect on Grover, but he wanted to move on.  Just three years later in 1945, he married Daphne Record, an “old maid” schoolteacher who lived nearby.  After the wedding, Grover moved into the Record family home, a large house built in the Victorian era.  It was gorgeous, and furnished with everything from servants’ quarters to a mysterious attic for the grandchildren to be curious about. 

By then, Grover was sixty years old.  His new wife was fifty-seven, the same age Lottie would have been had she lived.  Daphne was a formidable-looking woman, and those who did not know her well found her rather intimidating.  She was not conventionally beautiful as Lottie was, but she had a certain old-fashioned grace about her that her new husband loved.  Bespectacled and stiff with curly but graying hair, Daphne was a consistent woman and an experienced caretaker.    

Grover adored her.  His family was a little more skeptical.  Grover’s five children had been extremely devoted to their own mother.  When Lottie died her youngest son was only seventeen years old, and he and his older brother and sisters missed her terribly.  There was quite a lot of resentment among the children that Grover found a new wife so soon, and that she was in many ways so different from their mother. 

Lottie was quick-to-laugh, fun-loving, and carefree.  Daphne withheld her laughter and kept a reserved outward appearance.  Life had hardened Daphne into a quiet, proud character.  Her father had died when she was a child, leaving behind an invalid wife and two young daughters.  Daphne had shared her home with a few boarders and held various jobs over the years in order to help care for and support her mother and sister.  Though her father had been a prominent lawyer and left behind a gorgeous home and a decent sum of money, Daphne had grown into a frugal woman.  Whereas both Grover and Lottie had come from large, loving families and created another, Daphne was used to a small, quiet home, and was new to the concept of family life.  Lottie loved her children dearly.  Daphne, having made a living as a teacher, found too many grandchildren running around the house and getting into trouble to be irksome and tiring.  Lottie was small and slight, a beautiful, concentrated, and energetic woman.  Daphne was much taller, dark-haired, and imposing, a woman that radiated power.  She wore simple patterned dresses, often using the same few for years.

Grover, madly in love with Daphne, treated her no differently than he had treated his first wife.  He asked his children to call Daphne “mother” and his grandchildren to call her “grandma” in an attempt to make her feel welcome among his family.  This caused a few problems.   His children did not like the idea of having a new mother, and their feelings toward Daphne affected the way their own children thought of her.  Daphne tried to make up for this by always being kind to Grover’s descendents and treating them to the fruits of her baking hobby.  She worked hard to be a good wife and mother, assuming the traditional female roles of cooking and cleaning for her husband.  She was devoted to Grover, and made a good, loving wife.

Despite her efforts, Grover’s children never felt as warm toward Daphne as they could have.  Some of his grandchildren even harbored a marginal fear of her because of her intimidating profile and the habits she kept from her work as a teacher.  Quiet family gossip, negative insinuations, and slightly harsh comments kept a wall between Daphne and the younger generation.  It was not Daphne’s fault that Grover’s children resented her, but it made her life harder whenever the larger family was around.  There were no direct confrontations or fights within the family, but it was obvious from slight nuances in the children’s behavior that they had not accepted Daphne as a mother.

Another thing that set Daphne apart from the Town family was her religion.  Western New York had become distinctly Methodist during the Second Great Awakening, and the Towns were traditionalists in this sense.  Daphne, however, was a devout Episcopalian, and refused to convert once she was married.  On Sundays, she and Grover would go into town together to attend church.  When they arrived, they went their separate ways, Grover to the Methodist church and Daphne to the Episcopalian church right next door.  Even though they had their own families by this time, the Town family saw this as a direct snub of their religious views, and it added to their growing resentment of Daphne.

Grover’s children, for their part, did not intentionally shun Daphne. As hard as it was for them to lose a mother, they were certainly happy that their father had found love again.  If they found Daphne’s character hard to swallow, it was only the stark contrast she drew to their mother.  It was hard for them to understand how Grover could love two women that were so different from each other.  They wondered if he was looking to make up for Lottie’s short-comings in his new wife, and they grew defensive.

Ignoring these mild hostilities from Grover’s children as best as they could, Grover and Daphne built a long and happy life together.  Both of them had a fervent love of travel.  Daphne had been unable to fulfill her passion for travelling while she cared for her mother.  Similarly, Grover had suppressed his desire to journey across the country while he raised his children.  Once they were married, the couple travelled together by car to every one of the forty-eight continental United States and even to Tijuana, Mexico.  It was their dream, especially Grover’s, to see all fifty states, but a cynical view of flying prevented them from doing so.

While at home, Grover and Daphne kept up a loving relationship.  They made a point of holding hands when walking together in town and gave other physical reminders of their love to the skeptical family and greater community.  Being older and more experienced with love, Grover grew close to Daphne more quickly than he had to Lottie.  Consequently their marriage was strong from the very beginning.

In the end, both of his wives fostered strong relationships with him that ultimately changed his life for the better.  One could say that he lived two lives, the first with Lottie and the second with Daphne.  In his first marriage, he lived as a father and home-maker with Lottie as his partner.  His second life was as a husband and adventurer with Daphne as his companion.  As Lottie’s husband, he looked to help her change from a youthful girl into a woman and mother that he could love.  With Daphne, his role was to be the protective husband, one who would defend his wife from the doubts of outsiders.  Grover’s relationship with Daphne did not undermine or change his relationship with Lottie. 

In August, 1974, Grover’s second marriage ended with the death of his wife.  Their life together had lasted twenty-nine years, just eight years fewer than Grover’s life with Lottie.  Grover was heartbroken at Daphne’s death, and he himself died not two years later.  Insisting that he was in love with Daphne, Grover asked to be buried at her side, but a plot and headstone had already been purchased for him in the Arkwright Summit Cemetery alongside Lottie and his parents.  Though he confided his wishes about the burial to his children, they could only do what they thought was best for him.  In the end, Grover’s children had his remains placed beside their mother.  Daphne’s ended up in her family plot in an entirely different cemetery in Forestville.

Though Grover loved both of his wives, he loved them in different ways, and it is hard to say which he felt more fondly toward.  Perhaps it is better not to say at all.  His love for Lottie was like everything coming together at once.  It was a hasty young love that developed into a strong marriage and one that enriched his life with children.  His love for Daphne was that of a tired man releasing his true character.  Both marriages were appropriate for him at one point in his life, and both were happy ones.

The Spurr Family circa 1901
Back: Lottie
Middle: Elijah and Sarah
Front: Earl, Katharine, Mae
(Alden and Elijah were born later)
Elijah and Sarah were grandparents to Marian Town Schlick.  Lottie was Marian’s mother.

Daphne Record and her sister (Molly or Ruth?)

Grover Town and Daphne Record

Lottie Spurr and Grover Town
Wedding Picture- 1906

Daphne Record with Class
1940-1941 School Year
Forestville, NY School
The names of all the children are on the back of the photo!

While I was home for Thanksgiving break, my mother and I took my grandmother to the eye-doctor.  Ah, the simple pleasures of being home.  Just one more in the ongoing list of ways college changes you.  But as I sat in the waiting room, I reminisced about my own experience with eye doctors, and I thought it was something I ought to share.

My first trip to the eye-doctor was back when I was very young.  It was about the time the world started getting bigger than my house and the select few places I regularly visited.  Having begun to learn about various disabilities and diseases, I was certain there was something wrong with me.  My parents, I think mostly to humor me, took me to get my sight, hearing, and reflexes checked as I went through each new phase.  I decided my sight was bad one day while watching the credits of “Milo and Otis” roll by.  Discovering that it was hard to read them, I told my parents
“I think I need eyeglasses.”

The eyedoctor was a very nice man, if a little intimidating.  He used his polaroid camera to take a picture of me behind the lens machine.  I still have that picture.  I am wearing purple sweatpants, and I look like I have a giant, metal butterfly for a face.  As it turned out, I didn’t need glasses yet.  I confess to having been a little disappointed.  (How silly of me.)

By second grade, though, I really did need them.  When I went to the doctor, they first had to do that test (I’m sure you know the one) where they blow a puff of air in your eye.  No one told me before I had it done exactly what was going on.  I was so shocked that I started to cry and wouldn’t let them do the other eye.  After I had the full check-up, I picked out big, round, multi-colored frames.  Very stylish.  As soon as we picked them up, my mom took me to an art show.  I was so excited that I could see things well, especially that first time because I hadn’t known that I couldn’t see until I suddenly could.  I kept taking my glasses off, looking at the art, and then putting them back on and looking again so I could see the difference.  When I wore the to school for the first time, I was hoping my teacher would notice.  The week before, when Brittany got her first glasses, our teacher had made a big deal about them and told Brittany how nice they looked.  I wanted her to say that to me too.  She didn’t.

By the time eye appointments were old hat with me, the Wal-mart Vision Center shook up their employees.  The new doctor who came to give me my tests seemed a little too thorough.  She kept asking me silly questions like
“Now have you ever been here before, dear?”  I wanted to say You have my file in front of you, so you tell me, but I kept my mouth shut.  She gave me tests I’d never done before, like a test for colorblindness and a test of my peripheral vision.  I was a little disconcerted by this.  Then she said
“Okay, now I’m going to see how well your eyes respond to light.”  I wanted to say Just how blind do you think I am, lady?  After all, my eyes respond pretty well to light.  I have severe glare problems, as a matter of fact.  This she also could have gotten from my file.  I bit my tongue and said nothing.

Finally, she got to the typical eye exam routine.  First, she had me take my glasses off, cover one eye, and read letters from the wall.
“Okay, now can you read this?”  I think I actually laughed out loud at this point.  It was an E.  A very typical giant E, the likes of which you can see at every eye exam place in the known world.  Of course I could read it.  I am not that blind.
“That would be an E.”
“Good, now cover the other eye.”  I did as I was told.  “Can you read this?”  This time I absolutely could not leave well enough alone.
“It’s still an E, it hasn’t changed,” I told her sarcastically.  A bit harsh, but I felt she was being ridiculous.  She laughed a little and rolled the scroll down to the next biggest letters.

The first time I tried contacts was pretty exciting too.  My latest doctor tries to convince me to give them a try every time I have an eye exam.  One day I relented and tried them out.  He put them in for me.  It was wonderful to have them in.  With contacts, I could see without having to constantly push my glasses up on my face.  I could use mascara without having to wait for the stuff to dry.  I could see.  Too bad that didn’t work out.  I absolutely could not get the contacts out of my eyes.  In the end, I cried and had to have the contacts-lady take them out for me.

When our Wal-mart turned into a Wal-mart Supercenter, I refused to go there for a long time.  I really hate Wal-mart a lot.  The store tries to eat me every time I go in.  At any rate, when it was time for my eye exam, I scheduled it with a different doctor across town.  Instead of using the typical puff-of-air-in-your-eye glaucoma test, he did something else.  First, he put yellow drops in my eyes, essentially to make them numb.  Then, refusing to tell me what he was about to do, he had me open my eye up nice and wide while he looked at it through a strange hand-held device.  He kept getting closer and closer to my face until I was sure he must have touched my eye with the thing, but I couldn’t actually tell.  My eyes were so drugged up from the drops that all I could feel was a little pressure, and I wasn’t even sure about that.

“Did you just touch my eye with that thing?!” I asked, a little indignant at this point.
“It didn’t hurt, did it?” he asked.
“Well… no, but that’s not what I asked.  Did you or did you not just touch my eye with that thing?”
“Umm….. Yes.  I did.  But it didn’t hurt, did it?  So you’ll let me do it to the other eye!”

Weird.

 The most recent optomotrist story I have to tell you is about a woman who must have been filling in for the regular doctor at Wal-Mart.  (Yes, I did end up going back there.  I was none too happy about it.)  She had one of those nice old-lady hairstyles that is both curly and poofy at the same time.  When she asked me to focus on the E on the wall while she shone a painfully bright light in my eyes, I couldn’t.  Not because of the bright light, I’m used to that by now.  The trouble was I couldn’t see the wall because her hair was in the way.

Oh, the eye-doctor’s office.  What an adventure every time.  These are just a few of my Tales From the Eye-Doctor’s.

Wow.  My last post was about getting out more, and it has now been over a month since I blogged at all.  So what have I done with the last month of my life?  You might well ask.  And even if you didn’t, I’m going to tell you anyway.  It’s one of the many hazards of reading someone’s blog- you end up finding out a bit about their life. 

(Though, come to think of it, I wouldn’t want you to necessarily judge my life by what you read here.  If that were the case, you might think I do nothing but strip down to a towel and run around in public.  I did have a dream to that effect once…)

 ANYWAY.  I did get out more.  I studied for exams, I took exams, I partied, I danced, I went caroling, I played a six-hour-ish game of RISK, I drank a lot of coffee.  I saw a lot more of the world than I ever could from my dorm room.  And it was Great.  But here’s the thing- minus the exams, I had nothing really to DO during all that time.  No classes, no essays, few obligations- none of them too serious.  It’s been a vacation, not a realistic representation of the way my life could be.  Fun, but not realistic.

 Okay, I am boring myself here.  The point is, I’ve enjoyed the break, I’ve relaxed, I’ve rested.  Now I’m ready for the New Year.  New opportunities, a new internship, maybe even a new work ethic.  Bring it On.