Happy Anniversary Baby, Got You on my Mind

Ha! Now you will hum this song the rest of the evening, not knowing the rest of the words.

Me too.  All Day Long!

Today marks the 32nd anniversary of our wedding day. I don't know if I've blogged this story before, and am far too lazy to look back over 600 blogs, so I'm tellin' it again.

Live with it.

Husband was very romantic in the way he proposed. He was living in another town, and try as we might, could not stay off the phone with each other.

This was before cell phones.

Our phone bills that month were a little high. His was just over $300 and mine was just under.

It was alarming. So he said, "Well, I guess we might as well get married."

Be still my heart.

Anyway, he came to my house as usual the night before we were to wed. I cooked supper, we cleaned up and watched TV for a little while. About ten p.m. he decided to call it a night and go on home to his mama and daddy's.

We opened the door and gasped.

There was ice hanging from trees and power lines. The yard was covered in it. And it was snowing with a vengeance.

I called the gate and asked if he could make it out. (I lived at Lake Arrowhead for those of you who know, and for those of you who don't, the answer was, "Lord, no!")

The tiny, narrow, winding mountain roads were not to be traveled upon.

After a few hours of hysterical behavior (Husband, not me), I decided to go to bed. He'd made the dreaded phone call to his mama telling her he was spending the night. I shared this information with my mother about a year ago. Only because she overheard me telling the story to someone else.

I went to bed with Husband pacing the living room, muttering, "I've waited 35 years to get married, and now this."

We called the gate the next morning, and the answer was still a resounding no. However; when I told them we were supposed to get  married (!), they changed their minds. Husband had a front wheel drive. The guards at the gate made a plan. If we weren't there in fifteen minutes (for a usual five minute ride) they would start looking for us and pull us out of whatever ditch/ravine we were in and get us to the church on time. (another annoying tune to get stuck in your head!)

By creeping we made it, and many minutes later made it into town.

We went to the florist. We were the only customers there, and she'd just made it in. She told us she couldn't take any orders because she was the only one there and had to make deliveries, there was a big funeral that afternoon.

Once again, when told we were getting married that afternoon, her plans changed and she threw caution to the wind and made me a small bouquet and Husband a boutonniere.

By the time we arrived at the church, we were pretty much done in.

But the worst was yet to come, as they'd forgotten to turn on the heat in the church and it was freezing in there!

We did get married, despite all the barriers (one I didn't mention because who knows who's reading this? But it was by far the most, um, amusing.)

Here we are, 32 years later, still married.

And they said it wouldn't last.

Don't Harp on Me

Several years ago, maybe twenty-five or so, I was asked to sing at a friend's wedding.

I've done that lots, and certainly had no problem saying yes. She requested I sing "The Lord's Prayer", which I  have also done many times. No problem.

My accompanist would be playing the harp.

Uh, wait.

There my blaise' attitude came to a stop, but I figured, hey, I knew the song, no big deal.

We went to Atlanta to a beautiful old Episcopalian church where the ceremony was to take place.

I had borrowed a pretty dress and I was feeling fine.

Someone greeted us at the door and I told them who I was and where I needed to be, so they took me directly to a very severe looking woman and made introductions.

She looked even in a worse mood when that was done, sporting a very sour expression as she peered down her nose at me.

Screwing her face up as though she smelled a foul order, she said she understood we had driven down from the  mountains where we lived. (Translation: What is a hillbilly like you doing in a place like this?)

I told her yes, we had been driving over two hours.

She then asked, rather arrogantly, if I had ever sung "The Lord's Prayer" in public as a solo. (Translation: Can  you even sing at all, coming from up in those horrible mountains?)

I allowed (slowly) as how I reckoned I had. (Translation: You are beginning to annoy  me.)

And more arrogantly, had I ever been accompanied by a harpist? (Translation: The harp should be the center of attention, doing a solo all its own)

I told her no, but that my maiden name was Harper, so it was probably in my blood. (Translation: Probably one of my drunken Scots ancestors played better than you can)

She really liked that last remark. Not that she said so. What she said was it appeared obvious that we must practice right away. (Translation: Dear God, I'll never live this down, it's going to ruin my reputation)

I agreed as she eyed me as though I was about to kick off my shoes and pick my teeth while I tried to sing.

Can't say I wasn't tempted.

Before I go any further with this tale, I want you to know I wasn't getting angry. I was amused. Why, I was downright tickled. I figured no matter how badly I performed, I could never perform as badly as she was certain I was about to.

She closed her eyes and began to play the harp, swaying back and forth and nodding her head.

And dang, this was just the intro.

Me?

I just sang.

When we finished, she opened her eyes (I think she had peeked once). She said, "That was very good." Translation: You didn't sing through your nose)

I thanked her. (Translation, Sorry to disappoint you)

She glanced down at her watch, full of self-importance and said she hoped the ceremony began on time, because as soon as it was over she had to fly across town for another performance.

I smiled and said I was sure she could make good time. (Translation Just hop on  your harp and fly right over there!)

We drifted apart (gee I wonder why?), she searching for whatever, me for Husband.

He was standing in a nearby corner, boiling.

He'd heard the way she spoke to me and was ready to give her what she deserved.

I placed my hand on his arm and said, "It's just a song. It'll be over soon."

His face softened and he said, "You sounded like an angel."

Of course I did. Wasn't that a harp playing while I sang?

We burst into laughter and went in search of the sanctuary.

The moral of the story is this: Be nice. You'll feel better at the end of the day.

And the harpist? I don't know if she has been happy yet. But by now she probably has a cabin somewhere perched in these here hills and brags about it to her city friends.

The times, they are a'changin', after all.

Going to the Chapel

Well, actually, I'm going to,uh, outside.

Anyway, I'm going to a wedding this evening. It's the fourth wedding I've been to in the last few years that has been held outside. During two of  these I almost froze to death, even though they were both in the time of year one should not have been all that cold outside.

Today, I just hope it doesn't rain.

I've had quite a week, what with Daughter's birthday celebration yesterday and several other less important things. Nothing has been on regular schedule, and that throws me off, being as old as I am and used to routine.

Although, it seems to have thrown off Daughter, too. She is rather hard to get up in the mornings, which is like saying the ocean is rather deep. But she suddenly sprung out of bed like a rocket today, because she realized she had not done the bulletin for church services tomorrow, which she usually takes care of on Wednesdays.

It was nice to see a fire lit.

Back to weddings, I know for me weddings always get me reminiscing about my own. I figure every one there will be doing the same.

A few tears will be shed, a few smiles will be shared. The I do's will be said and then we'll get on to the important stuff: the reception where food will be offered.

I wish the couple well. They are very young, maybe they'll make it to celebrate fifty years or more.

May God bless this union.

And They Said It Wouldn't Last!

Twenty-eight years ago, on January twenty-eighth, my husband and I tied the knot.

He was a thirty-five year old bachelor, and I was divorced after twelve years of marriage to a not so very nice person.

The night before we were to get married (which had been kept a secret to almost everybody), he came to my house for supper. We ate, watched TV, and when he got up to go home, we opened the door to a winter wonderland.

There was already about four inches of snow and ice. It had happened in a matter of a few hours.

I called the gate and asked if it was safe for him to get out. After the guard stopped laughing, he said no, no way, nope. I lived in a community that was made with the houses suspended off the mountainside, and every road was a winding, narrow snake trail. I guess that's why the guard said no.

Well, my husband to be freaked out. He kept muttering "I've waited thirty-five years to get married, and now this." He kept peering out the living room window as though the weather might miraculously improve. He paced, back in forth, in front of the couch.

He called his mama and told her he was trapped (wasn't that supposed to be what he said on our fifth anniversary?) That went over like a ton of bricks. He may have been thirty-five, but he wasn't supposed to be spending the night at some divorcee's house!

We weren't even going to tell our parents we were getting married. I had found out via the grapevine of trustworthy friends that my parents were freaking out, thinking I was on the re-bound from my divorce, and besides that, they didn't know this boy! They (Mother) were trying to find out the goods on him, by hook or crook.

But when my husband was caught red handed with a Service Merchandise Mart catalogue, turned to the WEDDING RINGS, his mama asked why was he doing that? And he said - wait for it- "A friend of mine is thinking about getting married and wanted to borrow this."

I can still, after all these years, hear her eyes rolling practically out of her head.

The final straw for her was when he was trying to sneak his suit out of the house. His mother's house. Can you imagine trying to sneak something as big as a suit out from under your mother's  nose?

She flattened herself against the car door and told him he wasn't going anywhere until he told her if we were getting married. So, of course, he broke down and confessed.

Which meant I had to tell my parents.

One of my best friends (who kept her mouth shut - at least somebody did) agreed to stand up for us. The preacher's daughter was to be the other witness.

Back to the night before: I went to bed, I don't think the future husband did, even though I put clean sheets and quilts on the guest bed.

I called the gate again the morning of the wedding. They said you can't get out. I said, "B-but we are supposed to get married today."

"Well, why didn't ya say so? We'll get you out if we have to use our helicopter!" (they had a helicopter?).
They tracked our every move, waiting to rescue us from driving off a ravine, if necessary.

So, in husband-to-be's rear wheel drive Volkswagen, we crept, and finally saw the gate! WHEW!

But wait! On the other side of the gate was my ex-husband trying to wheedle his way in!!! YIKES!

The guard, who had plenty of girth and knew what was going on, stayed between the two cars, blocking old ex's view. And kept him occupied while we sped away at 5 mph. on the ice.

The groom put the James Bond theme song in the tape deck. We were so cool.

Just before we left my house that morning, the phone rang. It was husband's mama asking if she could at least pay for a few photographs to be taken at the church, since NOBODY was allowed to attend. He asked me, I said, "Sure."

She said, "That's good, because they'll be there at 3:30 p.m." Ha!

We got to the church, after I had begged a florist to make me a small bouquet to hold.

They had forgotten to turn on the heat.

We got married in  forty degrees. I couldn't tell if I was shaking from nerves or cold. It was probably both.

I look back at the pictures, and even though we thought we were old (I was thirty), we look like children, with love and  hope shining from our eyes.

Happy Anniversary, sweet man.