July 5, 1986

My memory of the morning of the day is totally gone. No clue what I was doing before about 3.

The rest of the day is snapshots:

My nephew Hamil (age not-quite-two) sitting in the church nursery eating Burger King with his dad Del, now fully recovered from his stupidity at Beast's stag party.

The rest of the "cast" filtering in, led by the women. Ellen was there practicing the organ.

Someone--maybe me--put the flowers and bows in the sanctuary.

My dress appeared. The women ensconced themselves in the Bride's Dressing Room to commence the Big Change. Halfway through, I suddenly realized that a bathroom trip now would be better managed than a bathroom break anytime later. So I dashed to the bathroom wearing only a slip. If that sounds daring, take a look at a bridal slip one of these days...

The girls all wore peach (omigod) satin. Jenny's mom had to make my sister Jean's dress...that's a story in itself, a LONG one.... She didn't get a chance to try it on till she flew in from England about a week before the wedding. Sherri and Jenny made their own; Sherri also made my dress by hand.

The guys were wearing rented gray tuxes, with peach (dear God in heaven) cummerbunds and shiny gray shoes that exactly matched the tux fabric. We all looked ridiculous and young and...well, mostly ridiculous. We thought we looked good.

More lost time. Photographs were taken. Lots of them. My glasses, oh Slave to Appearance, left ... somewhere ...during the ceremony.

Time to face the music...and my dad. Whereupon I was scolded for crying. My stomach doing the cha-cha, my mind on eleven- or twelve-thousand other details. Ellen starting Handel's "Water Music." My dad's arm. The aisle. Step-pause, step-pause.

I know I threw my arms around Dad when we reached the chancel, because I heard a tear in a seam of my sleeve. Neither event was scripted. Oh well.

Why am I wearing long-sleeved lace in July in a church sans air-conditioning? Beast is sweating. I probably am too (though I don't remember).

Katherine begins the opening to "The Wedding Song" and Elizabeth sings. I know she sang it; I remember nothing except thinking I couldn't see anything but her floral dress, foggily, on the other side of the groomsmen.

Dr. G must have said stuff. I hope he did, but I couldn't tell you what. I know he read the usual passages from Ruth and 1 Corinthians. I know I faced Beast and nearly giggled at the sweat pouring off his face. I know we got through everything.

We finished with the ceremony and practically ran out the back door--that part I do remember!--accompanied by "Trumpet Voluntary" (Purcell, I think).

We signed the license. Funny how clearly I remember the moment when my name changed, thinking I am keeping my name (sort of). Mike and Jenny--could we have two more '80s-named people??--duly signed after us, as did Dr. G.

I was so young, so not clued-in to the whole wedding rigmarole: we didn't pay the pastor! We forgot to undecorate the church! We didn't get all the food we'd paid for! We never thought about air-conditioning! We were probably beyond the pale in rudeness to 2/3 of our guests because the reception was for family and very close friends only! We opened gifts at the reception! I never changed out of my dress--we drove to the hotel, in a Pinto, wearing our 'costumes!'

We had an absolute blast at the reception, that I know. We conga'd, we bunny-hopped (did we chicken dance), we danced to "Babe," Beast did the garter thing (which no one in my family had the faintest clue about--my dad's face!!). Sherri--my college roommate and one of the bridesmaids--caught the bouquet; Beast's brother caught the garter. He has never married, and Sherri got married 13 years ago, well after about 10 other people at the wedding. Del dchanged out of his tux into a bright red and white Hawaiian shirt upon arriving at the reception. I danced without shoes on, ruining my nylons and the hem of my dress. We stopped at each table and spoke to each person for quite some time.

Beast's dad picked up the bar bill (my mom categorically refused to pay for people's alcohol...sigh). No one got blitzed; I don't think I ate or drank anything the whole time; maybe a Coke, or a glass of water.

The pictures are now used to frighten mice (poofy sleeves, sweaty bodies, lots and lots of teeth, permed hair). They've all yellowed because of bad storage decisions so the colors are truly hideous now (JAUNDICED peach! JAUNDICED gray!!). I'm sure we'll get the album out (the redone one, bad storage decisions changed about 10 years ago). I could get out the dress too, I suppose, but I know I wouldn't fit into it. And then I'd have to package it back up, which sounds like a freakin' nightmare to me! What a waste of fabrice and time.

My 42-year-old self is glad to be married, glad I had a Big Do, glad I didn't compromise too much, or piss off too many people--my mom only threatened once not to come to the wedding (Thanks, Dad--I appreciate now that you must have interceded on my behalf).

However, if my 42-year-old self could have said something to my 22-year-old self, it would have been:

Elope and have a party when you get back. [I tell everyone this now]

Lose the dress. No, lose ALL the dresses. Go buy nice outfits at a nice store and don't be stupid about it.

No tuxes. Just, no. Dad's right. (that was his only Rubicon)

Find a minister who will mean something to you, or just hire someone properly, pay them and be done with it.

A/C. It's July. Be reasonable.

Involve the guests in the wedding. Make 'em sing! Make 'em dance! Get married outside and make them move the chairs. And, for God's sake, don't invite people you don't know!

Real flowers, purchased the morning of the wedding, are sufficient unto the day.

Reception? Cake, punch, finger food at church. [We did that right] Then hire a hall in a restaurant, have people order what they want to eat and drink, get a good DJ, pay the bar bill for people (SHUT UP, Mom!), dance all night, and spend the night at a local hotel, whatever is closest. [We did most of that right too]

Refuse to engage in family drama about any of this.

Go on a freakin' honeymoon, you freakin' cheapskates!! Use the money you saved on the dress and flowers, and GO SOMEWHERE!!

Just make sure you are marrying the right person for the right reasons.

It'll take the whole damn marriage to figure out 1 Corinthians, and then some. Before that point, at some point, you need to realize that this has nothing to do with marriage, and everything to do with life:

"If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don't love, I'm nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God's Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, "Jump," and it jumps, but I don't love, I'm nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I'm bankrupt without love.

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
Love doesn't strut,
Doesn't have a swelled head,
Doesn't force itself on others,
Isn't always "me first,"
Doesn't fly off the handle,
Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn't revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end."

1 Cor. 13:1-7 (The Message)