My Grandparents Had to Choose Between Divorce and Financial Ruin
Their tough decision, coming after 40 years of marriage, speaks to the absurd reality of our health care system.
His name was Robert Rein. You wouldn’t know him. He never invented some magical machine that changed the world; he never wrote poetry or played an instrument. You won’t see his name in a history book, and he doesn’t have a Wikipedia page. He was just my grandfather, one of the millions of people who were born and lived and died in America.
He was a working-class guy with a sixth-grade education who didn’t say a whole lot. When he did tell a story, it was most likely a big whopper of a lie. He liked to tell tall tales just to see if you would take the bait. He liked to fish and loved eating Rice Krispies treats, or at least that is what he told me when I was 13 and they were the only thing I could make.
Grandpa grunted more than he spoke and often disappeared when small children were around, but still, there were a few things we knew for sure: He served his country, he always worked hard, and he loved his family fiercely.
Robert met Ruthe during Prohibition. There are no photos of their wedding, but I imagine it was a small affair. Grandpa wasn’t always on the right side of…
