Old friends get to live on forever. In this case, my favorite childhood dog, Cubby, and my “adopted grandparents” Wilson and Irma Speight, constitute dear, old friends.

Cubby was an obnoxious puppy we got in order to replace the hole in our hearts and lack of holes in the yard after our first dog, Skunky, passed away. I don’t know who came up with dog names in our family, but trust me, I’d have gone with something more intellectual like Plato or Socrates, but Cubby it was. I was never a dog fan, and preferred the multitude of stray cats that literally littered our barns in the winter time. Lucky for Cubby, however, she was my dad’s pride and joy and soon became a significant part of our “adopted grandparents'” life.

Wilson and Irma were an older couple, sans kids, who lived at Snyder Village, the assisted living/nursing home in Metamora. They had a little cottage on the East side of the “village” and essentially had no family to speak of. My dad and Wilson were “ham buddies” which meant that they talked on the ham radios together–this is not a weird meat reference, it’s like fancy walky-talkies that require a license and mastery in morse code. Wilson must have been in his low 70s when I first met him, and was this quirky old man who wore plaid golf pants a little too high, with a worn leather belt and mis-matched polo shirt. This was his uniform for every single occasion. Irma was the sweetest grandmother figure any young girl could be lucky enough to encounter, and as the result of not having her own children, she treasured us Rocke clan like we were her own.

One year, my brother Jeff adopted them as a 4-H project. I know this sounds bizarre and inhumane, but it was a bona fide project and he had taken a liking to them, but I don’t remember the exact story there. What I do remember, is that after he started visiting them and inviting them to events, they became a part of our loud, eccentric family. They were super quirky themselves, which only added spice to the holidays on the farm. Wilson never had his hearing aids turned up high enough and we had to shout across the table and wait for his loud “what?! what did you say?!” while Irma quietly tsked at him for being unruly. The truth is, they were a refreshing add-on to our family, and the best part was that they began to unexpectedly “drop by,” though that’s not really an accurate phrase when you live on the outskirts of town. Regardless, they would randomly show up at the house, and we no longer had warning, as our guard dog was too busy eating store bought dog treats and therefore neglecting her post. Cubby had found new friends, we loved the refreshing comedy and perspective they brought to our table, and they had found a new reason to be excited about life.

One year, just when I thought I would be resigned to home made clothes forever, Irma bought me an outfit from The Gap for my birthday. You would have thought someone had bought my way into heaven. I think I was a freshman in high school that year, and of course, was struggling to fit in. It was a blue and white checkered blouse with ruffles across the chest and a cross tie around the waist. She matched it with white shorts and a chocolate brown leather belt. I was so shocked that she had picked out something so trendy, and when I commented she said, “Honey, I didn’t pick it out. I just walked it and asked them what the cute girls are wearing this year.” I remember being so flattered by her honesty and generosity, and wore that outfit until the seams burst with my college 15.

Irma got Alzheimer’s and passed on quite a few years ago now, and Wilson followed soon after. I don’t think he knew what to do with himself without her. My eyes still overflow when I think about them, or use the beautiful china that Irma left me, but I’m so thankful that our lives crossed paths and we enhanced each other’s worlds for a decade or so. I know that my life is richer for having known them, and I’d like to think that their world was a little better for having the Rockes as part of their family. I started using their china every chance I get as a celebration–Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, a new recipe, the 4th of July, my birthday–any chance to get to talk about them and feel them still with me.