Scooch closer, children, for a story. Now, usually, I’m not the one writing the
story; I’m typically the one proofing or editing the story.
But there’s really only one other person who could tell this particular story, but I think I am beating him to the punch.
But there’s really only one other person who could tell this particular story, but I think I am beating him to the punch.
Apt A4 - Foothill Blvd. - Rancho Cucamonga, CA |
A long, long time ago (1990, to be exact), in a state far
way (all away across the country, in California), there lived a young woman and
a young man. They lived together,
actually, which some people were not happy about (but knew enough to keep their
opinions to themselves – mostly). But
the young woman and the young man were happy about it, because they fully
intended to get married.
But the young woman had particular ideas about the wedding,
namely where it should be. And that
place was “back home” - yes, all the way
across country. She was starting the process of planning a wedding from 3,000
miles away and let’s just say it was a bit overwhelming and a bit
challenging. The young man, seeing his
love become frustrated and irritated, suggested they could just run away to the
magical land of Las Vegas and get married there. The young woman didn’t like that idea, and
stubbornly kept up her attempts to plan a wedding from miles and miles
away.
But reality continued on its merry way. That is to say,
reality knocked the young woman around a bit.
One day, frustrated beyond reason, the young woman decided her young man
just might be right: Las Vegas would be so much easier. And they would be married so much more quickly.
So one Friday night, after they both came home from work,
the young woman asked a question, one so typical that even you might say it
now: “What do you want to do this weekend?”
The young man’s response wasn’t anything out of the
ordinary: maybe a movie, maybe go to the store.
The young woman’s response was out of the ordinary: Let’s go
to Vegas and get married. Only one
condition: neither of us can call anyone before we get married. (And remember
this was before everyone had cell phones and Facebook wasn’t even a thought in
anyone’s brain.)
Excited plans were made: A local magazine promoted the Las
Vegas Hilton’s wedding package. After a
phone call, reservations were made for the hotel, marriage license, and wedding
chapel. Once the bags were packed, it
was a quick three-hour trip to the sandy oasis of Las Vegas.
The hubby's wedding ring; my engagement ring and wedding band |
Saturday was a blur of getting ready: finding
a wedding ring to match the engagement ring, finding a man’s wedding ring,
going to City Hall for the wedding license.
Finally, the limo driver took the young woman and young man to the
wedding chapel.
Yes, we were married at the Candlelight Wedding Chapel, "where the stars wed." It's now a parking lot. |
Vows were said; rings were exchanged. There was no Elvis impersonator.
After the ceremony, relatives were called and given the
news: the young woman and the young man were now man and wife. Although surprised, most expressed joy that
the couple had taken this step together.
One (the mother of the bride) advised that it was the marriage that
counted, not the marriage ceremony.
Another (the mother of the groom) had not been looking forward to
traveling for the ceremony and was happy to send her love (and not lose her
luggage on a plane trip).
So now it is twenty-five years later, here in 2015. The young woman and the young man are, alas,
not quite as young but are still very much in love.
They own a house (or maybe it owns them, or maybe the bank owns it…):
a dog:
a cat (who, come to think of it, maybe owns them too):
and have produced a son, who graduated from college this summer...
They own a house (or maybe it owns them, or maybe the bank owns it…):
Our log home...not a log cabin |
a dog:
Dudley |
a cat (who, come to think of it, maybe owns them too):
Taz |
and have produced a son, who graduated from college this summer...