From JuJu with Love

This photograph stops me in my tracks every time I look at it.

It’s my grandparents on their wedding day in June of 1936. No ballroom. No towering cake. No band. Just the two of them, standing close, holding flowers, beginning a life together.

They had no money when they got married. Truly none. They couldn’t afford a wedding, so they were married quietly in the rabbi’s backyard. Afterward, about a dozen immediate family members went out to dinner together at a restaurant in Detroit. That was it. Simple. Modest. Enough.

And yet, everything about this photo feels rich.

When they were dating, my grandparents decided to save for their future together in the simplest way possible. Every time they saw each other, each of them put a quarter into a little receptacle. No bank account. No plan. Just intention. A quarter from him. A quarter from her.

By the time they got married, they had saved $58.

It was 1936. The Great Depression still cast a long shadow. Life wasn’t easy, and nothing was guaranteed. But they chose each other anyway. They chose partnership over perfection.

They also couldn’t afford a honeymoon.

So instead of going away, they spent three days at Briggs Stadium, watching the Detroit Tigers play.

My grandmother didn’t love baseball. She didn’t love the Tigers. She went because he loved them.

My grandfather had played semi-pro baseball for the Dodge Brothers, and the game was part of who he was. Sitting beside him in those seats wasn’t about the score or the standings. It was about being with the person she loved, doing the thing that mattered to him.

That detail says everything to me.

Because that’s what love looks like in real life — showing up, even when it’s not your favorite thing. Sharing joy, even when it isn’t yours. Choosing someone else’s happiness and making it your own.

Looking at this photo now, I see more than a wedding portrait. I see the beginning of a marriage built on care, compromise, and quiet devotion.

I also see the roots of my own life — of family, of togetherness, of why sports in our family were never really about winning or losing. They were about sitting next to the people you love, wherever the seats happened to be.

They didn’t start with much.

But they started with everything that mattered.

A quarter at a time.

A game at a time.

A lifetime together.

From JuJu with Love 💙