Mike Doran, Michael Cuthbert Doran, and Florence, Florence Ivadale McCraight Doran, my grandma and grandpa. Married sometime around 1920, a time when life was a bit more simple, straight forward, honest.
I will always remember my grandpa, walking home from the oil fields somewhere around LA where he stopped at the liqure store next to the “Dog House Bar”, barrel chested, wearing a metal construction hat with a six pack of Ham’s beer under his arm. My grandma in the kitchen, smiling, helping to cook the evening meal. They met in Seattle. Grandma worked as a telephone operator. You know, you’ve seen them in movies, sitting at a console plugging in wires, disconnecting and putting the RCA plugs. My grandpa called, liked her friendly voice or sincerity and he called her back again and again until he got a date.
They were married under a cloud, of well, controversy; so the family story goes? Grandma’s folks, Frank and Ida McCraight didn’t particular like Mike. They were afraid he might persuade Florence to elope with him. So, they would lock her in her room at night with no clothing except for her night gown. My grandpa was a pretty shrewd guy though. One mild southern California night, grandpa showed up with a ladder and a change of cloths, and Mike and Florence drove off and were married!
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