Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 8 · column 2 of 8 · from the scan, no model involved
played with Henry and the two of us tried to keep clear of this infant who wasn’t up to our athletic standard,” Waldron says. His eyes twinkle. “Now she’s got more endurance than I have.”
The years passed. Waldron stopped summering in the Berkshires for a while. “Suddenly I returned with a family in 1930 and here was this ravishing 16-year-old whom I pretended I had known all my life.”
Sam smiles. “Nothing happened obviously. You were married and a few years later I was, too.”
But Kismet hadn’t finished with them. The couples exchanged Christmas greetings until Waldron finally wed the widow ed Sam in Warrenton on December 15, 1969.
It was a small ceremony. The two dogs waited outside in the car because Sam was afraid they couldn’t be allowed inside the Presbyterian church. “It’s absolutely essential to have a good dog,” Sam says by way of sharing her secrets of marital bliss. A firm believer in the “love me/love my dog” school of thought, Sam manages to balance the affections she lavishes on her Irish husband and the Irish water spaniel Parnell whose presence is the only “bone of contention” in their married life.
Fighting about a dog is a good way to stay married— it keeps people from fighting about more serious things. In fact, the O’Connors agree that being serious is a good
85.6%