. . . and Counting

On the day I was married it was all I could do to keep from laughing. It was the most solemn moment of my life and I was cracking up. There I was, standing in the front of a Methodist church, facing the aisle; two ministers were standing behind me and my best man was completely uncomfortable in his tux.

Nina was a beautiful bride. But she looked like Bo Peep. This was in the seventies. And styles were . . . different. I had mutton chop side burns, hair to my collar, a grey pinstripe tux, platform patent leather shoes with HELP ME written in magic marker on the soles. It was my wedding day.

Nina had a wide brimmed hat, ringlet curls framing her face, an empire waist gown and all I could think of was Little Bo Peep. She was walking down the aisle, on the arm of her uncle; I was nervous, sweating bullets, watching this vision of loveliness and I had to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from laughing. All she needed was the sheep and the hooked staff. I hadn't seen her gown before we were married (as was traditional) and was completely surprised by her fashion choice. It was beautiful and silly at the same time.

The seventies were fucked up. We thought we we real trend setters and all we were was in the face of our elders. Much like the low rider pants, the exposed boxer shorts, and the skewed baseball caps that are part of wedding ceremonies, today.

I had a choice of velour and madris and light blue for my tux. But I have always been conservative, so I got pistripes with six inch lapels. Nina apparently got her gown from the Brothers Grimm.

She told me later that she thought I was mad at her during the ceremony because of my stoic expression but I was just trying to keep from laughing. I could not get the Bo Peep image out of my head. It was that contageous, laughing in church, deal that happens every now and then. Once you start -- everything is funny. So I could not start laughing and I was biting the inside of my cheeks to avoid beginning. I did such a good job that Nina took it as anger.

34 years later I am still being mis-understood. We celebrated our anniversary yesterday and Nina thought it would be a blog worthy topic. I told her that it needed to fit certain criteria to be blog worthy. She can't imagine that 34 years of marriage wouldn't qualify. I disagreed. One of my criteria for writing blogs is humor.

Nina thinks our marriage has been a hoot. I fail to see the humor.

Happy anniversary, baby!