As I became a teenager, girls began to change. For some reason, they were getting prettier and prettier. I started giving valentines, but I was so bashful that I didn’t sign my name to them. I wanted to sit with the girls on the school bus, but what if they said, “No?” or “I don’t like you?” At 15 years old, my last year of school, I finally worked up enough nerve to sit next to one girl. I just knew I loved her, but I didn’t dare tell her.
Two of my cousins (J.E. and Emory Stinson), a little older than I, came for a visit. Promptly, they said, “Grady, let’s go get us some girls.” We drove by Mary Sally Bridges’ home, and I asked her to go with me for a ride. She said, “Yes,” and it scared me to death. The older boys had told me how to act, but I just didn’t have the nerve — probably didn’t say three words to her the whole time.
Later, two other cousins (Randolph and Robbie) came. I had my driver’s license then, so I had to show off a little. I asked Randolph, “Where can we go to get some girls?” “Let’s go to the Ikners’ house. They have a bunch of kids, including a pretty little girl.” (Actually, though I didn’t know it at the time, I had seen her before — the first year she came to Lowry School. I thought then that she looked like a little midget woman.) Anyway, we went to the Ikners’ and played with the boys. Agnes was only 13 years old then, and I did not recognize the significance of that visit.
A little while later, I received an invitation to a Christmas party. Not able to read very well, I took the letter to the little country store where I liked to hang out. “Can you tell me who this is?” I asked Lois Winn. She looked and laughed, “That’s Agnes Ikner.” Of course, I accepted the invitation and met her at the party since her dad would not let her go on a date then. Then I knew I wanted to see her more.
Agnes went to White Springs Baptist Church, so I decided to go so that I could see her more. At first, I would sit with her in church on Sunday nights. Then the teenagers, after the Sunday morning service and lunch, started going to Jay Bird Springs to bowl, swim, etc. Of course, we had to be back home in time to milk the cows and get ready for the evening service at church.
On one trek back home, Agnes was sitting in the middle of the back seat, and I was beside her. While we were stopped at a traffic light in McRae, Georgia, we saw a man and his wife with two children (maybe 6 and 8 years old). They were holding hands, and each one had his Bible with him. Obviously, they were walking to church. Agnes said, “That’s the kind of family I’d like to have.” “Me, too,” I said politely. That night, though, as I was praying before going to bed, I asked God to give me that kind of family. I knew the answer was “yes.”
Finally, Agnes’ dad allowed her to start “dating.” We spent time together, but we were both so shy that a three hour date might include only a three-minute conversation. When Emmett, my older brother, came home from the army, I introduce him to Jewel McKenzie. She had an outgoing personality, so she kept our double-dating active. Soon Emmett and Jewell were engaged, and they were talking about it all the time. One day, we had picked up Jewell in Soperton and were on the way back to my house to get my family to go to church. Hearing Emmett and Jewell talk about getting married, I asked Agnes, “When are we going to get married?” She said, “When school’s out, I guess.” I guess that was my proposal.
Since we did not know anything about college, or know anyone who had gone to college, we followed the “normal” route. It was common for a girl finishing high school to get married. So we started making plans to be married in the last part of May. In March or April, I took a job with Horseshoe Bend Dairy driving a milk truck.
Back then, you could get your marriage license and post it at the court house. If no one took them down in a week, then you did not have to have permission from your parents. We were unsure that Agnes’s dad would give his permission, so I drove the milk truck to the court house in Dublin, got the license, and posted it. Since Mr. Ikner only went to town once or twice per year, I figured that he wouldn’t see it. After the week was finished and I picked up the license, I stopped by the Ikner place. When I asked Mr. Ikner if I could marry Agnes, he asked, “What would you do if I said, ‘no?’” I told him that we already had the license and would get married, but we really wanted his permission. “Well, I don’t guess I have anything to say about it, have I? he replied.
We didn’t have a car, so I told my sister, Alice, that we wanted to get married on that next Saturday, June 4. So she and her husband, Duncan, picked us up and drove us to the home of Barker Couey, the Justice of the Peace. As we drove up, Mr. Couey was walking out of the yard towards the hog pen with a slop bucket in his hand. Duncan drove right up to him and said, “Barker, these kids want to get married.”
It was a hot June afternoon (2:30 to 3:00), and we had no air conditioning. On top of that I had borrowed my Dad’s white wool suit, Agnes was wearing a “sort-of-peachy-orange” dress that a lady had given her to wear for her graduation, and we were sitting in the back seat of the car. Mr. Couey asked me if I had our license, and I handed it to him. “Oh, it seems to be in order,” he said and pulled out his “little black book.” From the front seat, he read the wedding vows and, finally, came to the question. Of course, I said, “I will.” So did Agnes. Mr. Couey then said, “Y’all are married. Go have fun.”
Fun? Well, it was. Hand in hand, we stopped by the store to buy some pillows, sheets, and dishes. Then we purchased some groceries, and went home to the house that the dairy provided as a part of my pay. Early the next morning (4:00 am?) I left my bride sleeping as I headed out on the milk route.
With that, God started answering our prayer for a Godly family.