I did not witness how my Gramma and Grampa met, but I have heard the story.
Grampa, whose name was Claude, played on a baseball team with a couple of Gramma’s brothers. They invited him to their home. Claude met Jenny, who was not my Gramma at the time but later got the job.
After Claude left, Jenny asked her brothers, “What is wrong with Claude’s leg?”
“Nothing,” they said. “What do you mean? He’s a good ballplayer.”
As it turns out, Jenny was right. There was something wrong with one of Claude’s legs. It wasn’t all there.
Claude got a job for Union Pacific Railroad when he was quite young. In the course of his employment, he was in an accident that resulted in the amputation of one of his legs below the knee. He was fitted with a wooden leg. His baseball teammates did not know, so he must not have talked about his injury, but Jenny noticed that his ankle was not flexible. She must have been studying him. He must have noticed her too, started courting her and married her.
In World War II, when many young soldiers returned with various injuries, including amputated legs, Grampa met with some of them, I have been told. I suppose he encouraged them by showing what he could do, including roller skating and various activities — with his wooden leg.
Recently, I wrote a blog about getting back on the horse after being bucked off. I guess that reminded me of Grampa and his leg.