27 years ago today, a small group of my friends, my family, my soon-to-be in-laws, my fiance, a slightly puzzled reverend, and I gathered together in the Ormond Memorial Art Museum gardens. More specifically we gathered in the gazebo, because it was raining. Teres and I were getting hitched.
Also there was our 6-month-old son Tony, the honorary ring-bearer, although he had to be watched to make sure the rings remained external. Tony played a part in our wedding from the start as our invitations began: “Tony David Bridges would like to invite you to the wedding of his parents…” Everyone but my mother thought this was hilarious but she worried he’d realize he was illegitimate. She was worried about him, and I don’t believe she understood that someday he’d be able to do math. Personally, I think he continues to take great pride in being illegitimate every chance he gets.
The rain was drizzling, just enough to keep everyone huddled. Except for me, because I kept running out to greet people as they arrived, keeping my newly-bought-and-only suit nice and damp and probably annoying Teresa. She was waiting patiently, looking beautiful in her prom dress, probably wondering what kind of immature goofball she was legally entangling herself with. My best friend Dave was there to serve as best man, on leave from the Navy and generally more best-manly than anyone else there, except possibly for our friend Bev.
When the time came, the reverend called us to the little bridge over the pond and performed the ceremony. I don’t remember much about it. This is odd, because I wrote it. I remember it focused on the recognition of existing love and commitment rather than the creation of something new. The reverend didn’t want to perform the ceremony initially since it didn’t actually mention God in any significant — or, well, any — way, but Teres’ mom called him up, read it to him and talked him into it. I’m sure it went well.
All I remember was looking at Teres the whole time and marveling that she was willing to spend the rest of her life with me.
After the ceremony we went to Teres’ mom’s house for the reception. (Total cost of our wedding, including wedding rings, my suit, the reverend, and snacks: Probably about $200. We were not rolling in cash.)
We picked the date because a) our going-out-together anniversary, March 17, wasn’t convenient that year for a wedding, and b) the Ides of March was the day of the Roman Feast of Anna Perenna, a holiday for the common people to go wild, and of course the whole assassinating-Julius-Caesar thing. A date of revelry and evil portents seemed just about right for our special day.
I don’t know if being married changed us much. We could file jointly, but that was about it. We had been together for 5 years at that point, we were living together with a child, and we were already planning to be together forever or until one of us finally snapped and “Murder-Suicide!” was plastered across our faces on the news. (Hasn’t happened yet, knock on wood!) Some things have changed since then. Dave moved in with us after the Navy and remains a huge part of our family. We’ve raised that child, had and raised another, and we’re fiercely proud of both men, twisted deviants that they are. We’ve gone through hard times and good, and we’re still the silly couple that giggles together in public.
One thing hasn’t changed. 27 years later, I’m still amazed that she wants to spend the rest of her life with me.
This is beautiful, Chris!
You’re just so sweet and have that way with words. Happy Anniversary to you both!!