Ok so I am not one to make a big deal out of our wedding day. I tend to think of it as a the day we went to get papers to satisfy the government and parents who felt the right thing to do after two kids is make it “official”. I hate rules that say you need a witness and papers for what you’re already doing. We were already living together and had the boys. So what was the point? Well, there was health insurance from his job we needed to cover me and we would save on our taxes and car insurance. OK when we looked at it economically then it made sense. So we got up on Saturday September 17, 1988 and drove to South Lake Tahoe with some family members and our sons. Of course there were complications and all around weirdness. I never thought about being married before and maybe because I was still pretty young I didn’t think it was a big deal. So I had on a knit blue dress, Bob a suit. We got simple gold rings. I forgot to get flowers. I wore tennis shoes because I forget dress shoes. Ludie, our witness, was holding Adam who kept crying because he was fussy baby. Alex, three at the time and our best man, throws the rings down says that it was stupid to be standing there doing “nothing”. I was distracted by the kids. I had no idea what the minister was saying or who else was present, I only know that afterwards we were driving home and decided to stop at apple hill and buy apples. It was the first time I ever had a Honeycrisp apple, the most favorable apple I ever ate. We went home watched some television then went to bed with the boys between us. It was weeks later when washing dishes I kept clicking my gold ring on the glasses that I accepted the magnitude of marriage. Wow, I got married. What happened to that girl that insisted that marriage was some sort of governmental way of keeping track and control of every one? The one who felt that since there was no good example of marriage anywhere, there was no way in hell I was going to fall into that trap. Damn, that girl was gone and was replaced with this domestic woman who was busting suds, as her that gold weighed heavily on my hand. That night Bob would tell me, for the four hundredth time, how much he loves and thanks me for marrying him. He still does that. Even after 20 years he still says he loves me, the reluctant wife. So we still don’t officially celebrate that fateful Saturday, we just say happy anniversary and kiss each other once maybe twice. There are no cards exchanged or flowers for the occasion either. We still go to bed at different times on that night and although the boys are away and in college, as a rule we symbolically act as if they are still there between us. The day passes like any other, loving each other, celebrating just being, nothing special. Cool. But I remember the day every time I bite into a Honeycrisp apple or when my ring hits the side of the glass while washing the dishes. He is my guy and I his wife. Weird and cool. Soon December 15 will roll around and that is when we celebrate like the happy married couple we truly are….but of course that is another story.
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