Mary Ella and Earl were married on September 11, 1937. They met in high school, and as the story goes, my great-grandmother pretended to need help in math from my mischievous, witty, no doubt dashing great grandfather. In fact, though, she did not need math assistance; just looking to strike up a conversation with Earl Monk.
He was a force to be reckoned with, I am sure. My grandmother, their oldest of two daughters, takes after him a great deal, and I have adored her since before time began. It is funny, as I grow older and able to read more of the people around me, I see how much they are peas in a pod, with heads as hard as granite and hearts as big as the lone star state. My great-grandmother is a wise lady, and the best thing she ever did was to snag my great-grandfather; he has served her as best as any husband I’ve seen, on or off the big screen. It is a true testament to the scriptures that say, Husbands, honor your wives as Christ honors his church. Cliché as it may sound, their seventy year marriage is clearly one based on friendship, service, and faith.
My great-grandmother, Mary Ella, though now different from the twenty-two year old woman who married Earl at a courthouse in Dallas, was obviously seeking adventure when she fell in love. Earl, standing slender and nearly six feet tall, was a high school senior in 1934 in Waxahachie, Texas. One of my favorite stories is when he and his friends drove a car up the steps of their high school and left it there for the principal to find the next morning, blocking the doors to the school.
My great-grandfather went to work for the Southland Corporation as an accountant; he is a whiz with numbers and was eager to provide for his young family. He worked his way up and was an asset to the family business until he retired sometime before I was born. Dear and Popa dazzled my mom and uncle, their two grandchildren, with trinkets and tourist items from their many, many travels. Basically any major destination in Europe, they’ve been there. They crossed the wall in Berlin to enter the Eastern side for an evening. Africa, South America, Paris, they’ve seen so much. I love to think of them so much younger than the couple I know, gallivanting all across the globe. In my mind, I see a couple with better posture than now, their hips and eyesight and muscles vital compared to today, their skin young and hair not gray, but one thing is the same: their hands are still entwined in the same sweet way I’ve seen countless times in my past twenty-five years, their eyes still glowing as the other speaks or laughs, madly and deeply in love, even if they do seem mad to the world around them.
