The days have a bit more time in them now for Dr. William “Bill” Zimmerman and his wife Gladys of Goshen, as neither one have jobs to rush off to any longer and they can spend their hours together in their home at Evergreen Place, Goshen.

The retired physician and minister said that even still, the days seem to fly by.

At 91 (and a half, mind you,) Bill enjoys caring for his wife, sorting e-mail from family and friends and watching a few favorite television programs.

Gladys is always ready to place her nose in a book when she has a few minutes to herself.

“I read a lot,” she laughed.

The pair enjoy relaxation, side by side, in matching recliners that allow them to sit close and still hold hands. They’ve each managed their fair share of health concerns and come out the other side fighting, which is something Bill learned to do at a very young age.

“In 1928, when I was 12, my dad bought a farm a half-mile south of Solomon Creek Church for $5,000. It was run down, it was 60 acres and the barn was good,” Bill said.

For the next four years, Bill, his parents and siblings worked hard to build up the farm, remodeling the home as well as adding a team of horses, farm equipment to plant and harvest crops, 120 hogs, 60 sheep, 12 milk cows, chickens and goats. They even re-fenced the farm after discovering the goats would get on top of and walk the split-rail fence.

“They were trouble, so we ate them,” he laughed.

During this time, Bill’s father worked at the wool mill in Goshen and relied on Bill to be his number one farm hand.

“Then the Depression hit. There was no warning. In just a few weeks everything collapsed,” Bill said.

His father lost his job at the mill in 1932 and the company closed. Bill estimated that his father had invested more than $10,000 in the farm and without a job, he couldn’t pay the mortgage.

Eventually the bank came in and took whatever it could liquidate, leaving the family in the home with one cow and 12 chickens.

“They even took the corn out of the crib,” Bill said.

He said his father developed severe rheumatoid arthritis from the stress of the situation, leaving him unable to handle his job or farming life.

That spring, Bill said he remembered standing on a huge pile of manure, which was the only crop he had, facing no way to plant corn, no way to buy seed, no way to harvest the fields and no way to help feed the family of six. Bill said he remembers his sisters being sent out to the corn crib to sweep it for stray kernels of corn, then sorting out the rat droppings to make hominy.

“My mother had used all her canned goods, we’d eaten no meat in a year and I just started praying. I cried out to the Lord for help and I didn’t know he already knew what we needed and was preparing for it,” Bill said.

From that vantage point on the manure pile that day, Bill said he felt the power of prayer as a long line of farmers were coming down the road with teams of horses, tractors and equipment to plow and plant his fields.

“Charles Weybright furnished the seed and the women who came with their husbands brought so much food we had to sit outside to eat it. They planted all 60 acres in one day,” Bill said.

Bill cared for the crops and eventually harvested them by offering his labor in trade. “I was just a kid,” he said.

After he graduated from New Paris High School, college was on his mind. He took correspondence theology courses and worked at the same veneer factory his father had, sometimes for 24 hours a day. He was prepared to attend college when his appendix ruptured and he spent 10 weeks in the hospital. While he was recuperating at home, he worked with his father clearing brush after adapting his father’s axe with tape so he could grip it. “We earned $24 a week, which was good money then,” Bill said.

Once recovered, the pastor who helped Bill with his theology classes drove him to college where he presented the bursar with $75 — all he had.

“He asked me if I could work. I told him I’d never done anything but!” Bill said. To cover his tuition, Bill cleaned toilets, shoveled coal, dirt and snow and nearly fell to his death while washing third story windows. It was then he began to think about medical mission work and working towards his ministerial license, taking all the chemistry and biology classes he could for the next four years.

“I had enough to get my teacher’s license, but I couldn’t find a job,” Bill said.

He returned home and worked at Maxwelton Golf Course as a greenskeeper for $2 a day, six days a week before a pastor he knew offered him a job in South Whitley pastoring to two churches.

“I found it was hard to be a minister and not have a wife,” Bill laughed. “Plus, I needed a wife for many other reasons.”

Living 15 miles from North Manchester, Bill decided to take courses so he could eat on campus and maybe find a wife.

“I looked and sure didn’t see anything interesting,” he said.

After mastering biology and chemistry at church college, Bill studied math at Manchester College, spending many hours in the library with his books.

“I had just prayed for a wife, and told God I was going to stop looking for girls when I looked up and saw her,” he said.

Gladys was working as a librarian at the school.

“The minute I saw her eyes, her smile, I knew,” Bill said.

“I’d been watching him and I knew what books he was reading and where he was going,” Gladys said.

Their first date, Nov. 11, 1940, ended with Bill discovering he’d just met a minister’s daughter who was also a “serious-minded girl,” according to Bill, and “everything I needed.”

The date was almost ruined when Bill offered to introduce Gladys to his “best girlfriend” Susie, which Bill knew was his 1929 Rio with 150,000 miles on it.

“I didn’t know what to think,” Gladys said.

Before the evening ended, Bill had taken Gladys to the church where he ministered and the couple prayed to direct their marriage and shared the Lord’s Prayer together.

“We knew then that we’d be together — on the very first date,” Gladys said. They courted five months and were married March 23, 1941. Once married though, Bill had to pay off her school debt and had to go to Farm Bureau Credit Union to get a loan for $200.

“He bought me,” Gladys laughed. “You were well worth it,” Bill said

“Her father told me to get the upper hand, and keep it,” Bill laughed.

Medical school was almost another disaster after Gladys strongly encouraged him to finish his dream of becoming a doctor.

“We packed everything we owned in the Rio and with $10 in our pocket we went to Indiana University where they turned me away for being too old. I was 26,” Bill said.

After getting a job as the assistant to the head of the IU chemistry department and earning his master’s degree, the college accepted his medical school application readily.

“You don’t turn down the assistant to the head professor,” Bill laughed.

Through school, his internship at Detroit’s Deaconess Hospital, and practices in Virginia, Kentucky, and finally Indiana, and as they raised their three children, Esther Mae, John and Edith, Bill and Gladys know exactly what hard work and determination can bring to life. They’ve seen the good and the bad and are thankful for all of it.

“The Lord has blessed us,” Gladys said.