My bride agreed to marry me because she wanted a man who was taller than she was. I wanted a good mother in law. Maybe we each had other reasons, but we admitted to these.

The woman who was to become my mother in law was tolerant of me from the first, yes even kind. I expected that she would continue, so long as I treated her with respect. Bess M. Werff of Lima, Ohio, a widow, was a woman due respect by all who knew her. She had no middle name, so she chose a middle initial no doubt to match her maiden name, McCreary. I called her Bessie, after I married her daughter, of course.

Bessie was of slight stature, about five feet, two inches, and somewhat squarely built. Her gray hair was cut to a medium length, just below the ear lobe. Rounded cheeks broadened her face. Through her glasses, her eyes hinted at a smile, giving her a pleasant appearance.

Bessie wore a hearing aid for as long as I knew her. Conversations with her were best limited to small groups, for many voices in close proximity became garbled. Her early hearing aids were bulky contraptions with batteries, microphone, and amplifier, packaged together and worn under her clothing. Connected to the package by a cord was the actual hearing device, mounted behind her ear to conduct sound through the bone. Over the years, hearing aids were made smaller, for which she was truly grateful.

Bessie lived just outside of town in a modest two-story house where she grew up. Located on a five-acre plot, the house shared tillable land and a small apple orchard, small that is, until apple picking time. Her Early Transparent apples were a mid-summer delight from which she made the best applesauce a body ever ate. The bulk of the orchard was devoted to Jonathan, a general purpose variety, ripening in the fall.

I ate tomatoes and summer squash from the vegetable garden she enjoyed tilling. Her real outdoor joy was embodied in her flower garden where she raised gladiolas, larkspur, cosmos, baby’s breath and many other varieties of posies. Picture if you will a little old lady, shaded by a wide brimmed not-so-new straw hat, and dressed in an old brown, calf-length dress, wielding a hoe and pulling weeds from among her flowers. This was Bessie having fun.

The good mother in law loved her family. She had her son, two daughters and their broods in for Thanksgiving Day dinner for as long as she was able. My four children liked her so much that they insisted she spend Christmas Eve with us each year. I believe that they were glad to see their parents leave just so their granny could stay with them.

She took a job at Jack’s Cafeteria, where she worked for ten years or more. A few years after all her children had married and left her, Bessie found her old home more than she could manage alone and moved to an apartment in town. This was a good move for her. It was more convenient for her son, Bob, to look in on her and to take her to Church each Sunday.

This was a woman firm in her beliefs. Many a time I challenged a statement she made and we argued the point until we got tired of the game. It was all just in fun; we neither ever conceded to the other.

Bessie was a spunky woman. She was walking on a downtown street alone when a purse-snatcher came up behind her and did his dirty deed. I’ll bet he was one surprised dude when his mark caught up with him and snatched it back from him. Foiled, he quickly fled from her sight.

Bessie was always ready to help wherever she could, be it teaching a Sunday School class, being a granny, or a friend. She was a Christian and yes, a pretty good mother in law.