By Annmarie B. Tait
Once in a while, right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale.
~Anonymous
"How do you feel about a winter wedding, Annie? January 14th is the only weekend I can get away," he said.
Once in a while, right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale.
~Anonymous
"How do you feel about a winter wedding, Annie? January 14th is the only weekend I can get away," he said.
"January 14th?" I said.
"Well, if that date doesn't work I'm afraid it will be another six months before I'll be able to take time off."
In those days the United States Navy had the last say in any plans that we made. But this one time, it didn't matter a lick to me. My parents had gotten married on January 14th, 1948, while my father was in the Marines, and now I would marry my Navy man on January 14th, 1984. I liked the idea of that and I knew my parents would be honored by it as well.
"Annie? Are you there? Is January 14th okay with you?"
"Yes, Joe. January 14th sounds perfect."
"Okay Annie, I'll fill out the request. I'd better go, long distance is expensive and we have a wedding to pay for now."
I laughed and we said our goodbyes. With Joe in San Francisco and me in Philadelphia, three thousand miles separated us but in my heart the miles started shrinking away as soon as the date was set.
The next day I went over to my parents' house bursting with my wonderful news. I expected my parents would be happy for us and get a chuckle out of the date, but it never occurred to me that Mom would be so touched.
In 1948 circumstances dictated that a traditional wedding was not in the cards for Mom and Dad. The priest performed the service at three-thirty in the afternoon on a Wednesday at the parish church. My father looked dashing in his dress blues and Mom's ensemble included a winter white wool suit with brown suede pumps, brown gloves and a smart winter white felt hat trimmed in a braided gold cord.
The guest list included my grandparents, the best man and the maid of honor. Directly following the service they went across the street to a photography studio and had their wedding portrait taken. Then it was off to a local restaurant where the reception dinner was served to a group of twelve. By eight o'clock that same evening the party was over and the marriage well on its way to a fifty-two year run until by death they did part.
My mother recounted the events of their wedding day and their two-day honeymoon at Haddon Hall in Atlantic City, New Jersey many times over the years. Never once did she utter a lament that it was not the fairytale wedding most brides dream about. They had the wedding they could afford and found their pleasure in building a home and raising five children.
"Yes, Mom. You and Daddy are going to get all dressed up and go to a big party on your next anniversary!"
"I can hardly wait," she said. "It will be a first." And I saw in her eyes just the tiniest glimmer of excitement that she would at last experience a bit of a fairy tale even if only from the sidelines.
"Let the planning commence, Mom!"
Joe and I decided from the start to keep the wedding small and affordable. We had no intention of asking anyone to help us pay for anything. Our guest list totaled sixty in all and with Joe three thousand miles away I had nothing but free time to shop for the best prices, from the caterer to the wedding dress, and every item and service in between. Mom's nose for sniffing out a bargain came in mighty handy too. It was such a comfort to have her there to help plan. Goodness knows the groom wasn't available and she was so tickled to be a part of making decisions.
We looked to save money in every way that we could. When it came time to shop for my wedding dress just by chance we found a beautiful gown marked down from nine hundred dollars to ninety-nine because it had been altered and the bride never picked it up. When I tried it on it fit like a glove.
"Mom, maybe it's a bad omen that the bride didn't pick it up. Maybe it would be bad luck to buy it."
We stared at each other in silence for about ten seconds and then we both burst out laughing.
"Don't be crazy," she said. "That dress has your name written all over it."
It did too, from the Queen Anne neckline to the leg-o-mutton sleeves, clear to the beautiful train trimmed in lace with floral appliqués.
We joked about the fact that her lovely dusty rose chiffon gown cost more than twice the price of my wedding dress. And she looked stunning in it too. It turned out that she was the one who went to have her dress fitted, not me. Mine didn't need so much as a hem. It was such a pleasure to see the seamstress fuss over her. My mother spent a lifetime making do with what she had so that one or the other of us could have a new dress or new shoes or whatever was needed. It was her turn to be a princess and my pleasure to watch.
When we arrived at the church on the big day I stood in the vestibule with Mom, Dad and the bridesmaids as the last of the guests were seated. Mom's panicked expression was priceless when she saw my fiancé Joe standing at the altar with the groomsmen by his side ready for the ceremony to start.
"What are they doing? Who is going to take me to my seat?" she said.
"I think it should be your handsome groom, Mom."
Daddy stepped toward her and she slipped her hand around his arm. Though he wasn't wearing his dress blues, Daddy cut a fine figure in his white tie and tails.
"I feel like Cinderella, Annie," Mom whispered.
"Cinderella was just make believe, Mom, and for us this day is a dream come true."
Down the aisle they went, the handsome groom and his beautiful bride in her dusty rose chiffon gown thirty-six years to the day after they were first wed. Every eye in the church was upon them as Mom had her moment in the sun. It was our little secret though. Mom and Dad insisted on no fanfare regarding their anniversary. Once Mom was seated Daddy came back for me and we followed the bridesmaids up to the altar where Joe was waiting to take the hand of his own bride.
Joe and I shared eighteen wedding anniversaries with Mom and Dad before heart disease took my father from us. Two years after that my mother was gone as well.
Flipping through our wedding album it's easy to see the bride, but whenever I look I always see two.
"Well, if that date doesn't work I'm afraid it will be another six months before I'll be able to take time off."
In those days the United States Navy had the last say in any plans that we made. But this one time, it didn't matter a lick to me. My parents had gotten married on January 14th, 1948, while my father was in the Marines, and now I would marry my Navy man on January 14th, 1984. I liked the idea of that and I knew my parents would be honored by it as well.
"Annie? Are you there? Is January 14th okay with you?"
"Yes, Joe. January 14th sounds perfect."
"Okay Annie, I'll fill out the request. I'd better go, long distance is expensive and we have a wedding to pay for now."
I laughed and we said our goodbyes. With Joe in San Francisco and me in Philadelphia, three thousand miles separated us but in my heart the miles started shrinking away as soon as the date was set.
The next day I went over to my parents' house bursting with my wonderful news. I expected my parents would be happy for us and get a chuckle out of the date, but it never occurred to me that Mom would be so touched.
In 1948 circumstances dictated that a traditional wedding was not in the cards for Mom and Dad. The priest performed the service at three-thirty in the afternoon on a Wednesday at the parish church. My father looked dashing in his dress blues and Mom's ensemble included a winter white wool suit with brown suede pumps, brown gloves and a smart winter white felt hat trimmed in a braided gold cord.
The guest list included my grandparents, the best man and the maid of honor. Directly following the service they went across the street to a photography studio and had their wedding portrait taken. Then it was off to a local restaurant where the reception dinner was served to a group of twelve. By eight o'clock that same evening the party was over and the marriage well on its way to a fifty-two year run until by death they did part.
My mother recounted the events of their wedding day and their two-day honeymoon at Haddon Hall in Atlantic City, New Jersey many times over the years. Never once did she utter a lament that it was not the fairytale wedding most brides dream about. They had the wedding they could afford and found their pleasure in building a home and raising five children.
"Yes, Mom. You and Daddy are going to get all dressed up and go to a big party on your next anniversary!"
"I can hardly wait," she said. "It will be a first." And I saw in her eyes just the tiniest glimmer of excitement that she would at last experience a bit of a fairy tale even if only from the sidelines.
"Let the planning commence, Mom!"
Joe and I decided from the start to keep the wedding small and affordable. We had no intention of asking anyone to help us pay for anything. Our guest list totaled sixty in all and with Joe three thousand miles away I had nothing but free time to shop for the best prices, from the caterer to the wedding dress, and every item and service in between. Mom's nose for sniffing out a bargain came in mighty handy too. It was such a comfort to have her there to help plan. Goodness knows the groom wasn't available and she was so tickled to be a part of making decisions.
We looked to save money in every way that we could. When it came time to shop for my wedding dress just by chance we found a beautiful gown marked down from nine hundred dollars to ninety-nine because it had been altered and the bride never picked it up. When I tried it on it fit like a glove.
"Mom, maybe it's a bad omen that the bride didn't pick it up. Maybe it would be bad luck to buy it."
We stared at each other in silence for about ten seconds and then we both burst out laughing.
"Don't be crazy," she said. "That dress has your name written all over it."
It did too, from the Queen Anne neckline to the leg-o-mutton sleeves, clear to the beautiful train trimmed in lace with floral appliqués.
We joked about the fact that her lovely dusty rose chiffon gown cost more than twice the price of my wedding dress. And she looked stunning in it too. It turned out that she was the one who went to have her dress fitted, not me. Mine didn't need so much as a hem. It was such a pleasure to see the seamstress fuss over her. My mother spent a lifetime making do with what she had so that one or the other of us could have a new dress or new shoes or whatever was needed. It was her turn to be a princess and my pleasure to watch.
When we arrived at the church on the big day I stood in the vestibule with Mom, Dad and the bridesmaids as the last of the guests were seated. Mom's panicked expression was priceless when she saw my fiancé Joe standing at the altar with the groomsmen by his side ready for the ceremony to start.
"What are they doing? Who is going to take me to my seat?" she said.
"I think it should be your handsome groom, Mom."
Daddy stepped toward her and she slipped her hand around his arm. Though he wasn't wearing his dress blues, Daddy cut a fine figure in his white tie and tails.
"I feel like Cinderella, Annie," Mom whispered.
"Cinderella was just make believe, Mom, and for us this day is a dream come true."
Down the aisle they went, the handsome groom and his beautiful bride in her dusty rose chiffon gown thirty-six years to the day after they were first wed. Every eye in the church was upon them as Mom had her moment in the sun. It was our little secret though. Mom and Dad insisted on no fanfare regarding their anniversary. Once Mom was seated Daddy came back for me and we followed the bridesmaids up to the altar where Joe was waiting to take the hand of his own bride.
Joe and I shared eighteen wedding anniversaries with Mom and Dad before heart disease took my father from us. Two years after that my mother was gone as well.
Flipping through our wedding album it's easy to see the bride, but whenever I look I always see two.
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