Ten-Oh-Two

Here Comes The Bride

(Well, sort of . . .)

One part of our pre-nuptial planning and discussions that I have not written about so far involved the actual ceremony itself and the need for any such ceremony. Michael was raised differently, to say the least. His value system made allowances for permanent monogamous relationships without benefit-of-clergy or any legal measures.

I was raised Irish Catholic. And considered marriage and a religious wedding ceremony indispensable parts of life. My family hadn't had any formal religious training after Vatican II and had only begun to recognize mixed marriages where the ceremony had been performed in the non-Catholic's church and later blessed by a priest. My mother's strong religious beliefs prevented her from ever visiting my older brother, Tom, at his home while Tom was living with his second fiancée, Robin and her son from her marriage, David. Mom did not want to even give the appearance of condoning his living-in-sin. If you are following the pattern here, you realize that to my family any wedding ceremony that I had, other than one that was performed by a Catholic priest, was invalid and meant nothing.

Michael was calmly insistent. He would be married. He would not get married. To him getting married meant the pre-Canaan classes, the tuxedos, the wedding dress, the flowers, the bridesmaids, the ushers, the clergyman, the church, the guests, the reception and anything else that you can think of that would comprise a fairly normal modern Christian wedding ceremony. Michael considered all of this unnecessary hypocritical nonsense and he wasn't having any of it. I tried to change his way of thinking. I debated, I persuaded, I cajoled, I even cried. Michael, even then, was unchangeable. His mind was made up. He would submit to a simple legal ceremony with just the two of us in attendance or we could just live together. That was it! (I have since apologized to him several times for my brain-washed state.)

So that was it, his way or not at all. Living together was not an option for me. A civil ceremony was, as I mentioned in my last section, Day One. . .(The Fireworks), arranged for Friday, September 14, 1979.

I was excited and happy about the new life that I was about to begin, and yet at the same time saddened that I would now be ineligible to receive the sacraments of the church that I was raised in. I was a rather lax Catholic. I did manage weddings, funerals and the occasional Easter duty. I realize that these feelings were illogical and still are, but it was the only religion that I had. Recognizing the difference between Church law and God's law enabled me to live with myself.

Meanwhile, the fact that my brother's fiancée (diamond ring and all) was not divorced from her husband had come to light. This added to my mother's disapproval of their living arrangement in ways that you can only imagine and drove my mother to have a heart-to-heart with the local priest. Fortunately for me, he was a fairly liberal priest. Whatever he said to my mother worked to our advantage. She took up the attitude that at least we were both single and bothering to get married before we lived together.

Aside from all of the psychological drama and trauma, I had managed to select an outfit to be married in. Michael was wearing blue sneakers, blue jeans and a blue cotton work shirt. I selected, for my wedding ensemble, bell-bottom blue jeans, ivory macramé sandals, and an off white scrunchy linen peasant style blouse with a crochet insert at the décolletage. I did own a traditional wedding gown, complete with veil from a previous engagement. I felt wearing it would be over-kill as well as unlucky.

As the wedding day approached we continued with the work on the house. The painting and carpet installation were finished. Everything was cleaned. (I was fortunate to have the help of my parents and friends.) The workman were finished. Our kitchen cabinets were arranged with our house wares. Our bed was set up and made up. We had window shades and curtains on the windows. The only thing missing was the furniture for the living room, the dresser and chests for the bedroom and Michael's book/record shelf for the den. I guess in reality we only had a kitchen set and a bed.

The people that I worked with gave me a surprise bridal shower. They had carefully coordinated their efforts and all of the gifts were wonderful and nothing was a duplicate. We still use many of the things.

The week before our wedding it dawned on me that I wanted a wedding ring. I walked down to a local jeweler on my lunch break from work and selected a simple gold band for myself. Michael had made it clear that he considered any form of jewelry unnecessary and merely rocks and metal. I didn't buy him a ring.

We still weren't living in our house. The morning of our wedding day I awoke and dressed in my wedding finery. I packed a suitcase with enough clothes to get through a few days and some other essentials. The plan was for us to meet at our house about an hour or so before the scheduled ceremony.

As I left home, my parents house, my father was at work and my mother was doing the laundry. She was deeply unhappy. She had wanted my wedding day to be something more. Her own wedding, back on September 4th, 1948, was held in the priest's office at the church rectory of Saint Gertrude's in West Conshohocken. My father wasn't Catholic then. They were not permitted a Catholic wedding in the church building. Despite the circumstances, my mother wore a beautiful white satin wedding gown complete with a veil. Her sister, Lola Ault, was her matron-of-honor and Henry DeMito was my father's best-man.

I arrived at our house before Michael and had a few minutes alone to savor the silence and wander around inside our house. Michael arrived at our house with a pre-wedding gift for me. It was an Andy Pratt record album. I drove us to the justice-of-the-peace for the ceremony. As we arrived there it started to rain. It was just a fine mist, but I still considered it to be lucky.

The ceremony was brief and very civil. Michael signed the license and we were married. To celebrate we went to Burger King for lunch and both of us had milk shakes for dessert.

Later on in the evening we went to one of our favorite restaurants, Tiffany's. Tiffany's was a steak house with a wonderful salad bar (pre-sneeze guard) and excellent food. It was on the site of the former Obie's Cabins, a rather infamous short-term lodging establishment that catered to the "hot pillow" trade. The cabins, what few remained, were then being used for storage. (In more recent years, the building have been demolished and the land is now part of a housing development. Can you say Toll Brothers?)

The only advantage of not having a traditional wedding was that I didn't have to plan it. So, in essence, I skipped a major etiquette minefield and a great deal of fuss and bother.

Today the only difference between us and any other couple that married in 1979 is our complete lack of wedding photos. People that gave us gifts truly wanted to give us gifts. (Ironically, my brother, Tom, did not give us a wedding gift because we did not have a Catholic wedding. I only mention this because he still mentions it all these years later.)

We both had vacation from work the week after our wedding. The first thing that we did was move in our stereos and set them up. We decided to put my stereo in the living room and Michael's in the den.

Now it was time for our first food shopping trip. We needed everything in the store, or just about. It was a magical adventure for us. (Grocery shopping, for me, has lost all most all of its charm over the years since then. Michael handles it now days.)

Now that we had stocked our larder we could concentrate on getting the remainder of our furniture to our house. My bedroom furniture had been a gift from my parents for my 16th birthday. We didn't need the bed so we left it with my parents and just took the bedroom dresser and chest. It was always understood that I was to take it with me when I left. My dad helped us move them. My clothes were in the drawers so it made moving simpler.

Michael had two home constructed (by his dad) shelves and one nicer looking store-bought bookcase. We put the bookcase in the living room and the other two shelves in the den. Michael also had a drafting table that he used as a desk. I believe that I have already mentioned that the smaller of the two bedrooms had been designated as Michael's den.

The living room furniture that we had ordered from Sears had not arrived yet. We had a stereo, a television and plenty of space to sit on the carpet.

We spent the next days getting used to our home and each other. I remember it as a very happy, peaceful time.

Michael had played with a band, Me, My Brother and I for several years. See his Studio Vheissu pages for the details. Dan and Bill Aubel were the other members of the band. They had a younger brother, Larry, who was getting married on Saturday, September 22nd, 1979 in northern New Jersey. The band was playing at the reception.

Road Trip!

Rather than consult a map and find our own way, we followed Bill up to his parents' house. The drive past every cornfield in Bucks County and New Jersey at 70 m.p.h. was toll free, except for the toll that it took on my nerves. We arrived Friday evening and spent the night at Bill and Dan's parents'. Saturday we went to the Elk hall in Elizabeth NJ and set up Michael's drum set for the reception. I don't remember much about the reception except that the bride had requested the song "Incredible" (Natalie Cole) and Bill sang it with alternate lyrics, "Inedible." Finally, it was over, the drum set was packed up and in the back of Aero, my van.

We were both very happy to come home. Home! That's what we had now.

The next major event was my bridal shower given by my friend, Linda Rogers. It was supposed to be a surprise, using the old "Tupperware party" ruse. Unfortunately, my mother-in-law managed to give the secret away. I still suspect that she did it on purpose. Two of my aunts were still having a feud over where the after-party for my grandfather's funeral had been earlier that year, as well as first surviving child versus first surviving son inheritance issues. I wonder how many other families don't speak to each other for years over a family Bible? I can report that the feud ended years later when the parties involved both died. (At least I am assuming that it ended.)

The shower that Linda hosted was a very fun warm party with good food and fun people. And, of course, let's not forget the gifts. It's twenty-five years later and we still have and use most of them. I'll mention just a few in detail. Linda's gift to us was a very beautiful hand-crocheted afghan that had taken her many hours to make. Our friend, Barb Shewchuk, gave us a set of "Star Wars" bed sheets, in honor of the first official date that Michael and I had gone on. My aunt, Helen Beatty (she was the one with Down's Syndrome), gave us colorful potholders that she had loomed all by herself. Other people, all of whom I love dearly, gave us a variety of items ranging from plants to Corning Ware to a Bible. I was totally overwhelmed by this outpouring of generosity.

So, this is pretty much how it all began for us twenty-five years ago. I plan to post some other sagas from the journey of Michael and Cathi next time. I may start with "Who The _____ Are You? (or why I took my husband's surname.)" or I may jump ahead to "Life on the Edge of the Universe" (My experiences with temporary jobs). . . .

csp 11/24/04

Visit Cathi's Back Page 1 or Cathi's Back Page 2 or Cathi's Back Page 3.

Also visit the first two installments of the Ten-Oh Two saga Before the Early Years and Day One - The Fireworks

Return to the 1002 Home Page.