Anniversary Dinner

Yesterday, September 4, was our forty-eighth wedding anniversary.

Larry got home from jury duty hot and tired. It was much too warm to cook, so we finally decided to repeat our wedding supper.

Just like this year, we were married on the hottest day of 1965 in a church (Marengo Avenue Methodist Church in Alhambra, California) with no air conditioning. The wedding was at eight at night to try to avoid having to serve a meal, small children, and some of the heat. We succeeded on the first two counts...

Four hundred twenty-five people attended a truly memorable service during which my veil kept drooping. But all that mattered was we were finally married.

The day had been really hectic, and neither of us had eaten. We had a cake and punch reception. (Try to get away with that today!) Since we were mere children—I was only one week past my nineteenth birthday, and Larry was twenty-one—and we had to pay for most of the wedding ourselves, this was easier. I worked for the baker, Mr. Brown of Lucille Brown's Bakery, so he gave us the cake as his gift. (It was truly the most beautiful one he ever made.)

Mom had prepared cold cuts and salads back at the house after the service, but we wanted to get on the road to Crestline. (Larry’s folks were members of the old St. Moritz Club, and they rented us a ‘chalet’ for our honeymoon.)

We were driving out the freeway after ten at night when we both realized how hungry we were. We pulled off at Peck Road in El Monte and ate hamburgers at Denny’s. (I was and remain a cheap date!)

So last night, we went to Denny’s again!

Renewing the Contract

On September 4, Larry and I will renew our contract for the forty-seventh time. We decided quite a few years ago to treat our marriage as renewable annually on our anniversary. Why? Because we never want to become complacent about our relationship.

In reality, both parties to a contract, including marriage, could opt out at any time. We just recognize the reality and recommit each year for another.

Larry and I have known each other practically forever. We went to the same grammar school and high school. We had the same friends and lived in the same neighborhood. No one seemed particularly surprised when we decided to get married, even though we were both very young.

Our parents were good friends, and they were happy for us. In fact, I’ve always said if there had been arranged marriages, we’d still have married each other—and we don’t know how they pulled it off!

Having lost my own father at such a young age (he was thirty-seven), I learned early never to take anything or anyone for granted. One day, without warning, they could be gone. So we thought it made sense to remind ourselves of how special our marriage was on a regular basis.

We never part without a kiss and the words “I love you.” We don’t go to sleep at night without the same. And we mean it.

In 1978, while on a couples’ retreat, we were challenged to rewrite our marriage vows. We were married at a time when the service was read from a little booklet. Few changes were allowed, although, as you might guess, we removed the word ‘obey’ from my vow. The pastor suggested it.

This is the new vow we wrote on November 5, 1978, and we still like it.

We consciously choose:

To share today, the problems and joys

To delight in our uniqueness and similarities

To listen for the feelings behind the words

To look for the gift of humor in times of stress

To respond with love

To risk vulnerability in the security of acceptance

To rejoice in the spaces in our togetherness

We reread this every couple of years, and, so far, still choose to renew the contract. We’re at forty-seven years and counting. In Larry’s family, fifty years or more is the norm. And we intend to keep the tradition going.