My grandfather was an individualist and an independent thinker. But he was also a bit of a contradiction because he was dependent on my grandmother (and she on Grandpa) and liked to talk to other people. Grandpa was a born storyteller and storytellers need audiences.
The next passage in Grandpa’s story illustrates his individualism:
Grandma and Grandpa attended First United Methodist Church in downtown Kalamazoo (known for many years as First Methodist before the denomination merged with United Brethren). Although his relatives had belonged to the (Dutch) Reformed Church, that stopped after Grandpa’s mother had gotten angry at someone. She had given a quilt to the church for a White Elephant sale (or something similar), and then she saw it hanging from someone else’s clothesline. The implication was that she discovered someone had “appropriated” the quilt for herself. That caused my great-grandmother not to go back to her own church. Like many of the family stories that have been told and re-told until I learned them, this could be the reason–or there could be another reason.
Grandma was brought up in Caledonia, and the Methodist Church was part of her upbringing. So it was natural that my grandparents attended the big English Gothic church. The building was brand new when my grandparents were starting out their lives as a married couple.
First United Methodist Church, Kalamazoo
A lot of my mother’s extended family went to this church and it’s seen my family at baptisms, weddings, and funeral receptions. I attended Sunday School there at least one year and Bible School at least one summer and have gone to services, most notably many Christmas Eves.
Photo by Chad Boorsma
I remember looking for Grandpa after the service one Sunday. He was in the “treasury.” On other occasions, I remember trying to get him to come to service with us, but he never would.
Why? He said he couldn’t sit still.
And I think that’s true. Wherever Grandpa was with family, no matter what we were in the middle of, he would suddenly stand up and say, “Time to go, Edna.” He had what we used to call “ants in his pants” and had to be on the move.
I hope you’ll stay tuned for Part X of Grandpa’s story . . . .
Here are the first parts of the story:
Click this link for Part I
Click this link for Part II
Click this link for Part III
Click this link for Part IV
Click this link for Part V
Click this link for Part VI
Click this link for Part VII
Click this link for Part VIII
The Family Kalamazoo 
Absolutely love reading about your grandparents and family. The bit about your great grandma leaving the church because of the quilt thing, wow that is just the sort of thing my mother did! She left a few churches in her time!
Jackie, hah, I’d like to hear those stories . . . ;).
Still enjoying this story!
Thanks for sticking with it, Wilma. More to come.
The quilt story is intriguing. My family also has stories about why major decisions were made–and sometimes I wonder if something has been lost as the stories been told and retold across the years.
I suspect it’s similar to a game of telephone where the meaning changes over time, but not quite as bad as that. And then people edit because they are embarrassed and want to present a better (or worse) story.
Ants in his pants. Love it. Hadn’t heard that one in a long time. Great pics and story!
I love those old expressions!!
I look forward to each episode of grandpa. What a wonderful tribute you created here.
Thanks, GP! I think Grandpa would have gotten a kick out of it!
[…] « My Grandfather’s Story, Part IX […]
I’m so glad I’m finding catching up with your Grandparent’s story and what a pleasure it is. The story of leaving the church reminded me that as teenagers my girlfriend, and I, decided to attend a particular church and loved it. The music, the building etc… and it didn’t bother us particularly that we weren’t welcomed by the Congregation except for “THE day”!!! … That was the day we were suddenly greeted with open arms and fawned over which seemed a little strange and then at the end of the service the reason became clear.
They were having a fund-raising concert and my girlfriend and I had a tap dancing duo which we performed at nursing homes, insane asylums (as they were called then) etc… and they wanted us to appear at their concert 🙄 We never went back. Good on you Grandma!!!
Oh my, that’s quite a negative feeling. You were probably attracted to the aesthetics of the church, but it sure wasn’t the congregation for you!!
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