We had a wonderful family event at the beginning of August. Tommy's oldest daughter got married! It was a wonderful day with family, church, food, dancing, and a little science thrown in for good luck. The bride and groom were radiant and happy, with just enough coy sweetness to make the day perfect.
This wedding will be remembered for everything, so carefully planned, that went off without a hitch; the beautiful Catholic mass, the bride in her stunning ivory wedding dress, the perfect reception venue (at the world famous Museum of Science in Boston), the proud parents, the toasts, the dancing, the museum with so much to fascinate young and old. And our memories will be peppered with the laughter of mishaps, obviously not planned, that became part of the day too.
Like leaving Greg, his fiancee and their daughter in the dust when leaving the hotel for the wedding. Greg mentioned he didn't have a GPS, but I didn't realize he also didn't have the church address, or any idea where we were going.
And how Kitty & her husband took a walk down the street after church, only to see the charter buses bringing us to the reception whiz by, leaving their only option to catch a taxi.
Oh, and watch that first step if you go into Kitty's room at the hotel - it's a doozy!
So after the exciting and wonderful experience of the weekend, I started thinking about my own wedding, 38 years ago (today!). It was the summer of 1975 and I was the first one in the family to be married. Mom and Barbie planned everything - I had no idea what to do or what was needed. But with their help, and Dad's checkbook, I had the fairytale most girls dream of.
My sisters were all in my wedding. Barb was my maid of honor, Cheryl, Margie and Susie were bridesmaids, and Kitty (age 9) was the flower girl. And Tommy was an usher, along with two of my fiancee's brothers. The best man was his nephew (and best friend) and the ring bearer was another nephew. We were a great looking wedding party.
Earlier that summer, Barbie and Cherie made dresses for all my sisters to wear on my special day. It wasn't an easy task - Susie & Kitty kept growing and Sue actually ended up with lace attached to the bottom of her dress, so it could be turned under for a hem. She seemed to grow at least 1/2" every time the dress was fitted. Barbie also arranged for flowers and threw my wedding shower. And to make sure I had nice pictures of the day, she starting dating a semi-professional photographer who she invited to be her date, and "Oh, by the way, will you bring your camera and take some nice pictures?"
Other ways it was different getting married in the 1970's - Barbie did my hair, and I did my own makeup. My dress and veil were purchased in one trip to The Elegant Lady in Wilton at the whopping cost of $600. Roses and daisies were standard for weddings - my bouquet was fragrant pink roses with greens and babies breath. The other girls carried white baskets with daisies dyed to match the different pastel sashes on each of their white dresses. In general, bridesmaid dresses were the same price as a regular dress (if a bride didn't have talented sisters to make them). Wedding favors were books of matches imprinted with the name of the bride and groom (because who didn't smoke and need matches?) The reception venue provided the bar, the food and the cake. Our place, The Longshore Country Club, even included a room after in a 5-star Greenwich hotel with breakfast the next morning before leaving for our honeymoon.
Not that everything happened without a glitch. Barbie and Kitty accompanied me to the church in a borrowed Lincoln TownCar that Tommy drove. We were followed by my parents, Greg and Rick in Dad's car. When we arrived at church, it was discovered that while shuffling the cars in the driveway that morning, Tom and Dad had the keys to every other car in their pockets. My grandmother, Cheryl, Margie and Sue were stranded at our house (about 20 minutes away). One of my girlfriends offered to pick up my grandmother, not knowing my three sisters were also there. So she got to our house in her little 1969 Volkswagen Beetle, to be greeted by four ladies in long, formal dresses with everyone but my grandmother in white. They all squeezed into a very small, and not particularly clean, car. But they made it! They got to the church and we could finally start the ceremony (at least 40 minutes late!)
Our wedding ceremony included the verse on Marriage from The Prophet that was part of almost every wedding in the 1970's. From that point, everything that happened that day is a blur. But I know it was wonderful! I only had eyes for my handsome new husband. We danced (my hubby and the best man even took over the band for a complete set), we kissed whenever our guests tapped on their glasses, and it was the happiest day of my life to that point.
So from new marriages thru standing the test of time - Best Wishes to my niece and welcome to our family to her adorable new husband. And Happy Anniversary to me and my still handsome and wonderful husband.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Random Thoughts
It's funny how memory works. Sometimes it just takes a whiff of something in the air or the shortest bit of sound to take you back to a special time from your past. I love those moments.
Like when I smell carmel-corn and remember the popcorn shop that was near the studio we took dance classes in California.
Or the exact notes the harp plays on the introduction to the Waltz of the Flowers from the Nutcracker Suite.
And the way a new plastic babydoll smells fresh out of the box.
Everyone has their own list of items that give them instant deja vue. There are also specific things that we kids grew up with that would make us say "Aww" today.
Like Dad's Tin Lizzy that played the song Tijuana Taxi.
And the peppermill that we used forever. Even when Mom & Dad got fancier upgrades as gifts or parts of a set, the old wooden box with the black bowl and crank on top is what we always used.
The ballerina lamps we had in California and Illinois. In my mind, I remember it was weird to have lamps that were just legs wearing ballet shoes and they were kinda ugly. But Mom seemed to love them and yelled like crazy when we rough-housed around them. (Through the years they got more and more chips and were eventually replaced).
The way we would count the blasts from the horn that called the volunteer firemen when we lived on Sturbridge Hill. We didn't know all the codes by heart (except the one for our street), but we could always figure out what area of town had a fire without looking at the chart.
And coming home from school to the smell of warm homemade bread that my grandmother made when she came to visit.
The artwork Mom & Dad kept in the living room made by us. There are two I specifically remember - the abstract blob of fired clay with sharp edges Barb made (she called it DisneyLand) and the sculpture Cheryl made of a kneeling child (she spent a long time taking photos of Susie from every angle before starting that piece).
The sound of the bell on Dad's ship's clock as it let us know what time it was every 15 minutes - no matter where in the house we were.
The geisha doll Dad brought home for Mom from Japan. The doll was never played with, but over the years was displayed and taken to school for show and tell until it became a little tattered and faded. Her face is still strong and beautiful. She was the start of Mom's foreign doll collection.
And of course Moses, whose bigger-than-life presence watched over us all those years. It was fitting then, and funny now, that Mom & Dad chose the biggest painting in the house to be a biblical figure holding the Ten Commandments.
Yes, so many memories tied to material treasures. Yet it isn't the objects that are precious. They are just reminders of time past in our lives. Some were happy times, some were not, but every minute we've lived is time we never get back. And our memories make us who we are today. Which, in my opinion, is pretty darn good!
Like when I smell carmel-corn and remember the popcorn shop that was near the studio we took dance classes in California.
Or the exact notes the harp plays on the introduction to the Waltz of the Flowers from the Nutcracker Suite.
And the way a new plastic babydoll smells fresh out of the box.
Everyone has their own list of items that give them instant deja vue. There are also specific things that we kids grew up with that would make us say "Aww" today.
Like Dad's Tin Lizzy that played the song Tijuana Taxi.
And the peppermill that we used forever. Even when Mom & Dad got fancier upgrades as gifts or parts of a set, the old wooden box with the black bowl and crank on top is what we always used.
The ballerina lamps we had in California and Illinois. In my mind, I remember it was weird to have lamps that were just legs wearing ballet shoes and they were kinda ugly. But Mom seemed to love them and yelled like crazy when we rough-housed around them. (Through the years they got more and more chips and were eventually replaced).
The way we would count the blasts from the horn that called the volunteer firemen when we lived on Sturbridge Hill. We didn't know all the codes by heart (except the one for our street), but we could always figure out what area of town had a fire without looking at the chart.
And coming home from school to the smell of warm homemade bread that my grandmother made when she came to visit.
The artwork Mom & Dad kept in the living room made by us. There are two I specifically remember - the abstract blob of fired clay with sharp edges Barb made (she called it DisneyLand) and the sculpture Cheryl made of a kneeling child (she spent a long time taking photos of Susie from every angle before starting that piece).
The sound of the bell on Dad's ship's clock as it let us know what time it was every 15 minutes - no matter where in the house we were.
The geisha doll Dad brought home for Mom from Japan. The doll was never played with, but over the years was displayed and taken to school for show and tell until it became a little tattered and faded. Her face is still strong and beautiful. She was the start of Mom's foreign doll collection.
And of course Moses, whose bigger-than-life presence watched over us all those years. It was fitting then, and funny now, that Mom & Dad chose the biggest painting in the house to be a biblical figure holding the Ten Commandments.
Yes, so many memories tied to material treasures. Yet it isn't the objects that are precious. They are just reminders of time past in our lives. Some were happy times, some were not, but every minute we've lived is time we never get back. And our memories make us who we are today. Which, in my opinion, is pretty darn good!
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
The Lying Nuns
Mom's upbringing was as Roman Catholic as it came. Her mother and grandmother went to mass daily and took care of laundering the priest's vestments and church linens from St. Mary's church in the blue-collar, Indiana town where Mom grew up. My father was not particularly religious when he met Mom. His background was tied to the Lutheran church. He'd become interested in the Catholic faith while attending Notre Dame.
Mom & Dad met at Northwestern College. Although it took Dad awhile to convince Mom to marry him, she eventually agreed. Dad converted to Catholicism and received Communion and Confirmation in the weeks before their large wedding at St. Mary's Church.
I tell you these facts because this was our family environment in the early years. At every meal, no one was allowed to touch a bit of food before we bowed our heads and said grace together. We would kneel at bedtime every night and recite "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep...." We prayed to St. Anthony to help us find lost items. There seemed to be a prayer for anything and everything.
At school, a bell rang to signal the start of each day. We would immediately line up at our designated places in the schoolyard. In unison, every child and teacher would salute the flag with the Pledge of Allegiance. Then, we all turned to face the church building and say a prayer to Salute the Cross. The time spent learning the teachings of the church and attending mass rivaled time allotted for Math, History or English. We truly believed God was everywhere. Nuns and priests were on earth to help God make us good human beings. They were closest to God and super holy.
So imagine my surprise when I learned the nuns lied! Wearing patent leather shoes would not reflect my underwear! And it was not a sin to play with other children who did not go to Catholic school.
Once we discovered that Nuns had faults and were probably more like us than God, school became a bit easier. We secretly called them funny names behind their backs. I wonder if Sister Mary Helen knew we called her Sister Hairy Melon!
Sister Clementissima (a.k.a. Sister Clementiddle-hopper) had the power to use "The Board of Education" to paddle children who misbehaved. There was not much that was out of bounds when the nuns needed to keep a classroom of 60 children (yes, 6 rows of 10 desks in each class) obedient and quiet. Sometimes when I think about my early school days, my mind says "did that really happen?" But it was a different time and place, and if you were punished at school and dared to complain to your parents, you would get more punishment instead of sympathy. Because if the nuns said you did wrong, they would not lie. But we kids knew better!
Mom & Dad met at Northwestern College. Although it took Dad awhile to convince Mom to marry him, she eventually agreed. Dad converted to Catholicism and received Communion and Confirmation in the weeks before their large wedding at St. Mary's Church.
I tell you these facts because this was our family environment in the early years. At every meal, no one was allowed to touch a bit of food before we bowed our heads and said grace together. We would kneel at bedtime every night and recite "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep...." We prayed to St. Anthony to help us find lost items. There seemed to be a prayer for anything and everything.
At school, a bell rang to signal the start of each day. We would immediately line up at our designated places in the schoolyard. In unison, every child and teacher would salute the flag with the Pledge of Allegiance. Then, we all turned to face the church building and say a prayer to Salute the Cross. The time spent learning the teachings of the church and attending mass rivaled time allotted for Math, History or English. We truly believed God was everywhere. Nuns and priests were on earth to help God make us good human beings. They were closest to God and super holy.
So imagine my surprise when I learned the nuns lied! Wearing patent leather shoes would not reflect my underwear! And it was not a sin to play with other children who did not go to Catholic school.
Once we discovered that Nuns had faults and were probably more like us than God, school became a bit easier. We secretly called them funny names behind their backs. I wonder if Sister Mary Helen knew we called her Sister Hairy Melon!
Sister Clementissima (a.k.a. Sister Clementiddle-hopper) had the power to use "The Board of Education" to paddle children who misbehaved. There was not much that was out of bounds when the nuns needed to keep a classroom of 60 children (yes, 6 rows of 10 desks in each class) obedient and quiet. Sometimes when I think about my early school days, my mind says "did that really happen?" But it was a different time and place, and if you were punished at school and dared to complain to your parents, you would get more punishment instead of sympathy. Because if the nuns said you did wrong, they would not lie. But we kids knew better!
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