My maternal grandfather was, I’m told, quite dashing in his youth. Tall, blond, with smokey gray eyes. It was said he dressed well, too.
I was scanning old photos and came across two from my grandparents’ 66th wedding anniversary party in 1982.
For the event, which my mother hosted, I flew down from Boston and sculpted chopped liver into the number “66.” At the time, I thought it was hideous and somewhat obscene. After seeing the photo, I haven’t changed my opinion. (Click the images for full servings.)
The other photo from that day is of my grandparents. My grandfather died just after their next anniversary, at the age of 93 (more or less). And my grandmother followed exactly a year later.
I have no idea who did my grandfather’s shopping, but his anniversary outfit looks like something out of … well, out of the pages of this blog.
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He did, however, make the peak lapel look so swell…
