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Happy Anniversary
Sixty-five years ago today, a young couple made their way downtown to the city's Episcopal Cathedral for a simple wedding. Sharing the couple's happiness was the bride's family: her parents, grandparents, siblings, and other assorted relatives. Though glad for the young couple, the groom's parents were unable to attend. It was wartime, you see, plus his family lived a thousand miles away and did not have the money for train fare. The interstate highway system was about fifteen years in the future and gas was strictly rationed, so taking the bus or driving were not practical solutions. I'm also guessing that domestic passenger flight at the time was irregular and spotty, and no doubt limited because of the war.
The 18 year old bride didn't plan on wearing a wedding gown. Because of the war, she'd thought that wearing a good suit would have been sufficient, and it would match well with the groom's sailor uniform. But her mother had talked her out of that, so she posed shivering in her almost-sleeveless gown in the winter cold as photos were taken of the wedding party outside her parents' home.
After the wedding, the happy couple took a short, sixty mile train ride to Boston for a whirlwind weekend honeymoon, as the groom was due to return to sea the following Monday. There was a war on, you know.
Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad, together in whatever afterlife might exist. Christmas isn't the same without you.
My father married his second wife on Christmas Eve. No one knew they had
it planned. My dad just picked me up for Christmas at his house and said,
"Jane and I are married." We had frozen Pepperage Farm cake with a plastic
wedding bell on top. It was an unremarkable event at the time, but it
lasted nearly 25 years. He died a few months shy of their anniversary.
The stepmother he gave me was and is such a treasure in my life.
