I know many of us have had weddings on the brain—and one big wedding, in particular, which was the exact opposite of “slapdash.”
I’ve had other reasons to think about marriage lately. No, I’m not getting married. My nephew beat me to it and had a surprise wedding a couple of weeks ago. This was after the news was announced that they’re about to make me a great-uncle again (I’m not quite thirty yet, folks). There were just a few people present at the quick ceremony, which took place in a city park. The groom wore jeans and flannel. I saw the pictures and thought, “Yep, this is a Love family wedding.” In my family, we love hard—which is the most important thing—but our weddings sometimes leave something to be desired. They’re not exactly royal, you might say. Call me crazy, but I think that makes them more special. My nephew is in love and happy, and I couldn’t be happier for him. And I’m glad he was dressed for comfort at his wedding.
In 1996, my nephew’s father (my older brother) got married. I was only seven years old, but I remember it well—and not for its pomp and pageantry. My dad, mom, and I got in the car and went over to pick up my grandma to head to the wedding. Other than the bride and groom, and the bride’s two children prior to marrying my brother (I’m sure her parents were also there, although I can’t quite picture them), we were the only ones there. The ceremony took place in the office of the magistrate, which was located across from a produce market called Big Joe’s. I was seven and didn’t know what a magistrate was, so I thought they were getting married at Big Joe’s. It was simple, but it was beautiful in its simplicity, because they were in love. She was also pregnant with my brother’s baby, which I didn’t know until much later. It was 1996 and it’s a religious family—it was a very hush-hush thing, scandalous even. My brother poked fun at it recently in a video he put together for their anniversary, in which he casually mentioned how my nephew Nick came along...less than nine months later.
My grandma, who was present for my brother’s slapdash wedding ceremony, knew something about slapdash weddings herself. I think I’ve mentioned before that my grandma filled out a memory book for me when I was a kid, complete with handwritten stories that I didn’t appreciate then nearly as much as I do now. One of those stories is about her own wedding:
Sidney [my grandfather] had bought an old car from his brother for $10.00. This was during the Great Depression, 1932. He sold the car, license and all, for $15.00. That was all the money we had. I had bought a cheap dress and a few things I needed—the rest of my money was gone. Sid’s brother Laverne was going with my sister Jessie at the time. We all borrowed a car from a friend of Sid’s and went to Mayville, N.Y., on June 25, 1932, got the license and found a church—and got in the wrong church. Pastor put on a robe and we were married in a big church—no one there but four of us and the preacher. We stopped and had a hot dog for dinner. When we got home, company from Buffalo had come and took the room I had ready for us. There was no honeymoon and it was 25 years before we took a belated honeymoon to New England states.
What do you want to kibitz about tonight?