Sometimes a young girl has been told a story so often that she feels like she lived it herself. Such is this tale of how my grandparents met. At one time I was lucky enough to have a little pink corduroy diary written in the up-and-down, spiky handwriting of my gramma. Minnie Samantha Syester was 19 years old when she traveled with her sister-in-law Lula to visit with Lula‘s husband and gramma‘s brother Jimmy. I have no idea how they made the trip from Brazil, Indiana, to Louisville, Kentucky, but the heart of the story begins in Louisville. The two young women took a tram through Camp Zachary Taylor in Louisville with instructions to arrive at the barracks or tent of my uncle. Then fate, Kismet, God, chance, coincidence stepped in, and these two accidentally got off the tram at the wrong corner. Lost in a sea of soldiers and identical buildings, I’m sure my grandma was overwhelmed. That’s when my Paw-paw , Emanuel Herrington, stepped up to be a courteous, young gentleman.
My grandfather decided he would like to help these two lost women, and he accompanied them to find Jimmy Syester waiting somewhere in his own tent or barrack. However, my grandfather didn’t stop there. Emanuel went that extra mile and lingered while the three others met, hugged, exchanged news of the family, and decided to go have some supper at a local eating place. Well, yes, my grandfather believed he could. That is, he waited long enough for them to finally include him in their nightly plans. According to the little diary, Minnie and Emmanuel talked long into the night. The camp was very near the Ohio River, so they walked down beside the water and watched the moon rise over the countryside. My grandma wrote that they fell in love that night.
There is no record of the two corresponding, visiting, or seeing each other until September 1, 1919. On that day Emmanuel Herrington arrived in Centerpoint, Indiana, and he must have asked my gramma to marry him that day. The two wandered off from the rest of her family, boarded a mail hack, and headed into the little town in Indiana. Wandering still, they looked for a judge who said he could marry them right then. Inside the judge’s chambers, my grandparents discovered they needed something. They needed witnesses, and of course,they had left an entire family at home. So they had none. The judge stepped out of his home and into the alley behind, and he called down the street to two men who were unloading coal for the city. Well, yes, the two strangers agreed to be witnesses for my grandparents – coal dust and all.
I used to have the large, beautiful marriage certificate they acquired that day. Grandma and Pawpaw, Mr. and Mrs. Emmanuel Herrington, returned to my grandma‘s childhood kitchen. Here my gramma expressed just a tiny bit of understanding for her own mother. She wrote that during supper her younger brother found the marriage license rolled into the pocket of Pawpaw‘s coat. He flashed the wedding certificate around through the hands of her family, and my great grandmother, Candace Valera Morgan Syester, began to cry. This woman with the beautiful name was no doubt crying because she missed the wedding, she didn’t know my grandfather, she understood that the couple would probably move to Missouri, and it was just too big of a surprise for a daughter to keep from her mother.
Gramma and Pawpaw lived in Moberly, Missouri, for a while before moving to Terre Haute, Indiana for many years. My mother was born in Terre Haute, and my grandfather hauled ice for the Home Ice Company there. Finally, when my mom was in her senior year of high school, the family moved to Excello area to be with Emmanuel‘s family in Jacksonville, Missouri, where they lived the rest of their lives on a farm with cattle, chickens and eventually a darling little granddaughter named Gayla. Minnie and Emmanuel were married until his death in 1971.
So … whether or not a person believes in love it first sight, Kismet, or a Divine Plan, I certainly have a story that fills all the blanks. Getting off a horse-drawn tram a stop or two early changed my life by allowing two people to fall in love. No wonder I’m such a romantic. Happy Anniversary , Gramma and Pawpaw.
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