Unthinkable! Impossible! But it happened and hordes of dewy-eyed youngsters are rushing to City Hall. In the midst of all this well-deserved jubilation, I feel it is my duty as a senior to point out a few realities.
No, I am not going to be an unromantic old fart and mention the implications of this being a community property state and all that silly legal stuff. I want to discuss the serious issues, but not to those who do the deed at the clerk’s office and then hit the Chicken Pot Pie Shop to celebrate. My advice is for the others who want the works: the showers, gift registry, ceremony, flowers, menu, reception, honeymoon, etc. To them, I say, “Slow down!” Think of the momentous decisions facing you. The first two are huevo crackers: one, the money (how much and whose) and two, horror of horrors, the guest list.
If you can work this all out and still be on speaking terms, you should be ready for further toughies: white suit/dress/jeans, shade of bronzer, rings, flowers, oh, m’God the shoes, and for the gals only (probably) the veil. Is there no end to it? Daring to continue: who will carry whom over the threshold? And let’s not forget whose mother is going to have that all important talk before the wedding night to explain what is expected. Aside from “Be gentle,” is, “Lie still, close your eyes and think of England” still OK?
For many it is going to be a stressful, but wonderful time; one long dreamed and hoped for. At the end of this, the most important day of your lives, you will emerge as a triumphant, legally married couple ready to face the future together. Go for it. Congratulations!
Memories awakened (kids 50 and under, ask a senior)
Thoughts of poor Jay Silverheels spinning in his grave due to a new movie brought back memories.
Arriving home after looking stuff up in the library, I’d put it all together for a report and tried to type it up without rubbing a hole in the paper and having to start again. Damn that hard, round eraser (with the brush). Free time was spent on the telephone (one long, two short); brother talking to his girlfriend and I talking to my girlfriends; needless to say, different topics. Once I was forbidden the phone for a week when I failed to hear mother yelling she’d caught her finger in the washing machine ringer and couldn’t reach the reverse lever.
Father came home at 5:30, had one drink, two if a bad day, and everyone sat at the table at 6 sharp. Family news and discussions followed, but no arguments nor any four letter words, ever.
After the dishes, Mom knitted or darned socks while father listened to Westbrook Pegler ranting against traitor Franklin and that hell-fiend Eleanor. Upstairs, in our bedroom my brother would turn off the lights during The Inner Sanctum (the squeaky door); need I say more! Radio could be so excitingly terrifying. Oh, those days … “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?” We know, don’t we, seniors.
Then television came into the house and one night it opened my eyes to myself while watching The Lone Ranger. The scene: Lone, hurt, on the ground; Tonto, concerned, bending over – closer, closer, closer …. Bingo! I knew they were going to … but they didn’t.
The rightness of what the two men should have done awakened my inner being. No one else was thinking these thoughts and then it dawned on me; I was different. I don’t know how I knew, but I knew.
