Alzada and Irving were attracted to each other at first sight.
It was 1949 and Alzada, age 23, was working the soda fountain at the corner drugstore in Fall River. From behind the counter, she could watch everyone who came into the store, and one day, a very attractive young man caught her eye.
He was tall, slim, and elegant-looking, and Alzada noticed right away that he had an appealing kind of hip action while playing pinball with his friends. Pinball gave him an appetite, and the pretty girl behind the counter – a classic beauty with an easy smile – was even sweeter than the sodas she served.
Alzada, instantly smitten, always gave him a little extra ice cream each time he came in, embellishing the recipe, concocting extra-special sodas just for him – pretending not to hear when he bragged to his friends that the fountain girl gave him drinks for free. (Alzada was paying for his ice cream sodas!)
The handsome fella with the sweet tooth and swiveling hips was one Irving Cecil Cross, and he had a lot going for him: he was the youngest licensed electrician in town at age 22, and doing well by the looks of his brand new bright yellow 1949 Jeep Roadster.
Boy, is that something, Alzada said to herself.
But there was something more than just his good looks, sharp wit, and magnetic personality, and Alzada recognized it very early in their blossoming relationship; it was the essence of Irving’s generous and genuine spirit. If a friend needed money, Irving would lend it to him. He would even let friends borrow his precious car.
Irving picked up Alzada in his newly shined canary colored Jeepster for their first date. He wore a stylish, well-made suit and showcased his impeccable manners at the fancy restaurant he took her to. Their first date became the happiest day of both their lives at that point, with happier days yet to come.
She soon found out that the snappy suit was rented, and the Jeepster was repossessed soon after that, so Irving had to settle for a broken-down Ford truck and ten-cent beers when planning their dates. Expensive restaurants were no longer within their reach, but they never had been!
And none of that mattered. Alzada had fallen in love with a man who valued people more than possessions. She was always proud to be seen with Irving. He was the man she had always imagined falling in love with and she was the girl he’d always been looking for. They were made for each other.
It’s an enduring love story that gave rise to more love through their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, and will continue through the generations yet to come.
Irving truly swept Alzada off her feet, and she never landed back on earth.
And they really, truly lived happily ever after.
Alzada’s earliest and most vivid memory is from when she was just 18 months old. On the freezing-cold night of Feb. 2, 1928, she huddled in her mother’s arms in their Durfee Street home, crying and gagging on smoke, as the Great Fire of Fall River ravaged the city.
Alzada was subjected to a daily hairdressing ordeal she grew to hate. Susan spent a lot of time fussing over her daughter’s hair, using her fingers to form big, thick banana curls that were in style at the time. This ritual took place every single morning for years.
Little Alzada much preferred her dad's fun, free-spirited Weaver relatives to her mom's more formal, proper Gifford relatives. Mom loved her aunts and uncles on both sides, but as a child, she felt most at home with her down-to-earth Weaver extended family.
Alzada has a beautiful singing voice, and when she was in elementary school, she sang a solo in front of her class, a popular song at the time called, "When I Grow Too Old to Dream." It was an odd choice for a child, as it’s very mature and emotional – for a 10-year-old, at least.
Alzada's mother Susan was strict and protective. Alzada was her only daughter, and was forbidden to date or wear makeup until long after her friends began to do so. All of the other girls wore lipstick back then, in the mid-1940s, but Alzada had to be sneaky.
We don't have a single photo of Irving before he was driving a car – no happy baby pictures, no adorably awkward school photos, no Christmas postcards with his sisters. We’re very lucky, however, to have a copy of Irving’s ninth-grade report card from Henry Ford Junior High School.
Growing up, Alzada regularly visited her Grandmother Alzada’s gravesite, and she often saw her grandmother’s beautiful face in the one treasured photo that exists – and yet, there was no denying that Alzada Estes Weaver Cross positively HATED her first name.
Alzada's BFF Betty was born Barbara Elizabeth Wise on September 26, 1926 in Fall River. Their friendship began at Durfee High School, from which they graduated in 1944, and by the end of the ‘40s, Betty would also become Alzada’s sister-in-law – and roommate!
Alzada and Irving were attracted to each other at first sight. It was 1949 and Alzada, age 23, was working the soda fountain at the corner drugstore in Fall River. One day, a handsome pinball-playing customer caught her eye, and the rest is history.
Irving and Alzada became Mr. and Mrs. Cross on Friday, February 17, 1950. It was a freezing cold day, but the temperature doesn’t matter when you’re so much in love, and you don’t need fancy proposals and expensive frills to get married.
Though she didn’t know it at the time, Alzada’s adolescence prepared her for her future role as the mother of a big family in a small house. When Alzada was growing up there were only two beds in their small Fall River home at 733 New Boston Road.
Alzada was always a reluctant but willing victim. She would try anything. Consider the first (and LAST) time she tried to ski. It was the 1960s and we were at King Pine in Madison, NH, a family-friendly ski house with all-you-can-eat bacon for breakfast.
Irving would enter us Cross kids into track meets, even though we had no formal training whatsoever. What we did have in abundance was love and encouragement from both of our parents — and the chance to shine.
Irving was the ringleader of all the fun we had together as a family — the camping trips, the road trips, the track meets, the crazy driving around in parking lots – and Alzada was always right there with us, our biggest cheerleader – most of the time.
When our youngest brother Dana was four years old, our Mom, who was approaching 40, began a whole new career as a mechanical assembler at Raytheon, working second shift for two decades, all while being a full-time wife and mother of six children.
Irving was a kind and helpful person by nature, and during the hitchhiking craze of the 1960s–70s, he gave many different folks a lift. The most memorable and oft-told instance occurred in the summer of 1966.
There we were – me in a wheelchair and Grammy moving at the same glacial pace. With family frolicking in the pool, we both took the chance. Neither of us prepared for it, we ventured in anyway, fully clothed.
A self-aware perfectionist, Irving was no stranger to poor self-esteem and overwhelming anxiety, and we're fortunate to have a copy of the 17 handwritten affirmations he often recited to himself to deal with negative thoughts and feelings.
Saturday, Nov. 12, 2022 | Good morning, everyone. We are here today to honor Alzada’s passing and to celebrate her wonderful life – a life that touched and inspired us in so many different ways.
