Well, here I am sitting in my recliner with my iPad. The TV is off and Mary is down at city hall talking to the city manager about city business. In this quiet time, Im thinking of a very special time in our lives. The year is 1967; the place is Belleville, Illinois. Mary and I are preparing for a major event. One that will change our lives forever. No, Im not talking about babies, they would come later. Im talking about our wedding. You see, I had ask her to marry me several months earlier while we were in the car, at a gas station, up on the lift getting the oil changed. I figured that she would have to think about it because she couldnt just say no and then open the door and run. We were way up in the air! And being the prepared young soldier that I was, I had even bought a wedding ring for her through a magazine. When she said yes, I whipped that ring out, opened the box and tried to put it on her finger. As luck would have it, it didnt fit. That was probably a good thing because I dont think she really appreciated my taste in jewellery. Well, I sent it back before the first payment was due and sometime later we went shopping for a ring for her. We set the date for Memorial Day weekend, 1967. As the time went by, preparations were being made, reservations completed. Invitations were bought, addressed and mailed. Ours would be the first wedding performed in the new St. Theresas Catholic Church. That new church had a bell tower that sat in front of the main cathedral building, and some of the parishioners had stated that it was going to be a drive in confessional. Marys mom called it a Hoot and Tell or Go to Hell. Msgr. Stager was going to perform the wedding ceremony and decided that because it was the first one in the new facilities, he would give us a high mass. All the flowers that was used for the decorations were grown by Marys mom, and they were beautiful. The reception dinner was prepared by the mothers club of the church and the bartender for the reception was going to be a friend named a Woodie. Woodie run the gas station that I frequented, along with a lot of other young soldiers and airmen. He was kind of a stand-in dad for a lot of us. A wonderful man. I had gotten orders for a PCS move to Germany. I had to leave in June, and Mary would follow as soon as I found a place to live. The day finally arrived for our wedding. It was a beautiful day and it seemed that everyone was in a festive mood. You see, back then, Memorial Day Weekend really meant something to Americans. We remembered the sacrifices of those men and women that fought and died protecting this Great a Nation. Today it seems that it is just a three day weekend. Soon it was time for the ceremony. There was a choir in the loft singing something sweet that I did not understand. I was standing at the alter with a very good friend, Richard Pavone, who was my best man. I remember telling him not to faint. I told him that because he fainted at his own wedding, with me as his best man. I was so engrossed in the ceremony that I didnt even notice.. His wife, Sandy was also in the wedding. She was Marys Matron of Honor. When they started playing the wedding march, everybody stood up and turned to watch Mary, escorted by her dad come down the aisle. She was, and is still the most beautiful woman in the world to me. The wedding went off without a hitch. After the reception, we drove to the Ozark mountains and spent a week in a cabin not far from what is now Branson, Missouri. We had a wonderful time. Two very significant things occurred on that day so long ago. The first is that I married the only woman I have ever loved; my best friend and confidant. My soul mate. She is also a wonderful mother and grandmother. The second is that my dad and I started writing letters back and forth. You see, my mom and dad were divorced in 1954, and I grew up with my mom. All I ever heard about him was negative. Without my knowledge, Mary sent him an invitation to our wedding. We were all up at the church doing final preparations the day before the wedding when someone got word to me that I had a phone call that I had to take at Marys house. It was dad, apologising for not being able to make it to the wedding, but he had just received the invitation that morning. The invitation that I didnt want to send. To make a long story short, after I got to Germany, we started writing and I was looking forward to getting home to see him and spend some time together. We were due to leave Germany in March of 1970, and he died in February. I was crushed, but thank-full for the letters that I received from him because Mary had sent that wedding invitation. We have both experienced great losses in our lives and unprecedented joys. We have helped each other over the rough times and shared the many joys and blessings that have come our way. We have raised two great kids and befriended many more. We have been blessed with four grand children and see them when we can. Mary and I will celebrate our forty seventh anniversary next week. I couldnt imagine doing it with anyone else. I love you Mary! Just the ramblings and happy memories of a thank-full, blessed old man.
Posted on: Wed, 21 May 2014 17:52:10 +0000