Special Times - Wedding Anniversaries

It's time for a little trip in the Wayback Machine to almost a quarter of a century ago, when Professor X and I got married. We'd been engaged for a year (some day, I'll tell you the amazing tale of how it happened) and had chosen October 12th for our special day. I'd jokingly threatened to have a Columbus Day-themed event, with bridesmaids dressed as the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria, sailing down the aisle, culminating with me garbed as a map of America.

Everyone was relieved when I settled on a more traditional bridal look. In fact, it was very traditional. My folks were in the wedding photography business, and I'd seen thousands of different dresses over the years. I chose a style that one of their brides had worn, which turned out to be her mother's gown from the 1940's, very simple with classic lines done in satin and a touch of lace. My Mom and I went downtown to the fabric stores in Chicago and a dressmaker copied the design for me. I wore little white gloves and carried my Mom's little white bible which she'd carried when she married my Dad. My Mom was a florist, and she designed a beautiful spray of Phalaenopsis orchids and stephanotis to rest atop the bible.

We had a very lovely wedding in the morning, followed by cake and punch in the church basement with lots of our friends and family. Then a smaller subset of those dear ones drove out to a little restaurant along a river. Too many of those folks are gone now. My own Dad is one of those who have passed away. I know I'm lucky that he was there. One of my college roommates' fathers died before she met her husband to be. Geez, this post is getting all melancholy. Sorry about that. It's just that my Dad is really special to me. He was always a larger than life person, a man with a quick wit and a wonderful hearty laugh. At our wedding luncheon, when it came time for the toasts, my usually funny Dad made everyone teary. This was back in the dark ages, before camcorders were common. I'd give anything to have a video of his toast. He was so loving, so sincere, and he capped it off by singing "You Are My Sunshine." He'd sung it before to me and my brother, but it had special meaning that day because I was moving a thousand miles away, to a small town in the Catskills where my new husband had begun work teaching.

You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine.
You make me happy,
When skies are gray.
You'll never know dear,
How much I love you.
So please don't take my sunshine away.

I'm blessed with a good marriage to a man who cares for me. But you may rest assured that I didn't get married to escape an unhappy childhood. I was loved and I knew it. This wedding anniversary reminds me of that special time when someone sang a song just for me.

Professor X and I are going out for a marvelous evening, listening to the music at a Snow Patrol concert. I'm really excited about our date night. We've been through a lot, moving back and forth across the country in search of the perfect setting for our family. We've had our share of fights and rough road along the way. But it's been a fun journey for most of the time, and I suspect we're stronger as a couple because we've hit a few potholes and experienced some ups and downs. Flat, straight pavement might have been too deadly boring, right? Am I rationalizing? So what if I am?

I like the Snow Patrol song Shut Your Eyes because it reflects a more mature love, one that recognizes more than just sunshine. It's about exchanging comfort, especially when things appear dark:

Shut your eyes and think of somewhere
Somewhere cold and caked in snow
By the fire we break the quiet
Learn to wear each other well
And when the worrying starts to hurt
and the world feels like graves of dirt
Just close your eyes until
you can imagine this place,
yeah, our secret space at will.

Happy Anniversary, Professor X. You are my sunshine, but you are also my warm fire.