April 21, 2013

43 of 65

Wedding

Just like a ghost you been a-hauntin’ my dreams
So I’ll propose on Halloween,
Love is kind of crazy with a spooky little girl like you.
— “Spooky” by Classics IV (1967)

October 31, 1979, was a chilly Wednesday with light snow. The weather was not bad enough to keep the little trick-or-treaters off the streets, but parents made sure they were bundled up. My friend Cathy had been in Ohio for the past week visiting her parents. I had been commissioned to stop by her condominium each day to feed her cat. On Halloween itself, I had the additional job of meeting her at the airport and taking her home. The previous day when I had come to look after the cat, I brought a dozen yellow roses and put them in a vase above the fireplace. I thought it would make the condo a little more welcoming.

I met her plane and as we were driving away, I put a Pentangle album into the tape player (this was a tape, not a CD or MP3; this was the old days). The first song was “Wedding Dress.” Being an incurable romantic, I began to explain first that the song was a traditional Appalachian ballad, and then how it marked a bit of a change from the British folk music that had distinguished the band’s early albums. The next track was “Omie Wise,” a traditional murder ballad, which Cathy said she did not wish to discuss. I turned the volume down and we changed the subject. A couple of hours later, no trick-or-treaters had come by, I was preparing to go home and we had decided to get married.

You may take that decision as incontrovertible proof that I have much better taste in women than Cathy has in men.

Over the next few days we told our families and began to make plans for the ceremony, which required some thought. Cathy assumed that the wedding would be held in Ohio, though I had never been there. I assumed that it would be a Catholic ceremony, though Cathy had been raised Protestant. I had a major trial coming up in April that was going to consume a good deal of time over the next few months. Cathy had just returned from vacation and had to see when another could be scheduled.

Almost miraculously, we found that we could make everything work for the first weekend in February, giving us a 90 day engagement. However, that Saturday was February 2nd, and Cathy refused to be married on Groundhog’s Day. We decided to try for Friday night, Groundhog’s Eve.

Most of the arrangements were made – very quickly and efficiently – by Cathy’s mother. She got the name of a priest in the local parish, and I spoke with him. Some of Cathy’s relatives would not feel comfortable attending a Catholic church, so her mother booked the chapel at Heidelberg College, which was only a mile or so from her house in Tiffin, Ohio. Things were going quite smoothly.

As the wedding date approached, the priest called to let us know there was a problem. There are rules which provide that a Catholic wedding cannot be held in a university chapel because there is no “congregation.” A wedding must be witnessed by a congregation. He said it didn’t have to be a Catholic congregation, but it could not be a non-denominational chapel.

We understood. The sacrament of marriage is supposed to be a public act that symbolizes the lifelong commitment of the bride and groom to each other. The presence of the church community would symbolically support us in our lives together. When the bride and groom say, “I do,” those in attendance implicitly say, ”We do, too. We do support you and we do witness and confirm your marriage.”

Once again, Cathy’s mother had a solution. Her parents had given the Hopewell Church of God the land on which its church was built. She told the pastor that her family had always been willing to help the church and had been open minded about many things. Now it was time for him to be open minded and permit a Catholic priest to officiate a wedding in the church. The pastor agreed.

Cathy and I arrived in Ohio just a few days before the wedding, along with my parents and my brother Jim, who would be the best man. The other groomsman was Cathy’s brother, Steve Lupton, whom I had never met. He was great, though; helping in so many ways.

Between planes in Atlanta (you would need to ask the airline why we went through Atlanta to fly from Denver to Toledo) we finished writing our vows and finalized how the Church of God’s minister would be involved in the ceremony.

When we reached our destination, I noticed immediately that Ohio is cold in January – and windy. The temperature did not get above freezing the entire time we were there, and at night it hovered near zero. As expeditiously as possible, we obtained a marriage license, we got our tuxedos fitted and picked them up, checked on the flowers and cake and food, had a wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner, met the priest, met the relatives, and were convinced that everything was under control.

We spent the day of the wedding, Friday, February 1, 1980, doing what I assume most couples would do. We toured the Ballreich Potato Chip factory, visited the Tiffin Glass factory, went to the car wash with Cathy’s father, shoveled some snow that had fallen overnight. It was a good time.

That afternoon, Cathy and her bridesmaids went to a room at the Riverview Inn motel to dress and prepare. Later, the rest of us went to the church. As we were doing the last minute preparations, I had a conversation with the Church of God minister, who did not seem as open minded as I had thought he would be. “If a priest is performing the ceremony,” he began, “why do you need me at all.” I told him we were in his church in front of his flock, making him a very important participant. It soon came out that he was newly ordained and this was his first wedding ever. He was nervous, so I took a few minutes to calm him down – though I think it is usually done the other way around.

The church was nearly full: All of Cathy’s friends and relatives and only a few of mine. The singer and the organist were also her friends and relatives, who happened to be accomplished musicians and performed marvelously. Cathy was one of those brides who desperately wanted to begin the ceremony quickly. She was to walk in from the rear of the church, which meant she had to start outside, wearing a thin wedding gown while the wind chill was -25° F.

It was a nice ceremony. The priest started his homily by saying how brave Cathy and I were to ask him to officiate when we had never heard him preach. He continued with an excellent talk based on 1st Corinthians, Chapter 13. Afterwards was a reception in the church hall. It felt so good to be married to this wonderful lady that I spent the whole time with a silly smile on my face trying to remember names of anyone to whom I had recently been introduced.

Finally, Cathy and I took her Dad’s newly washed car and drove off for a 12 hour honeymoon at the Riverview Inn. To get to the room, we had to walk by the bar. Several slightly inebriated townsfolk (they weren’t from the wedding – one does not become inebriated at the Hopewell Church of God) were enthralled to see a beautiful girl in a wedding dress, and found it appropriate to engage us in some good spirited conversation.

The honeymoon ended early the next morning, for we were supposed to be back at Cathy’s parents’ house for brunch and to open wedding presents. On the way over, we stopped by the bank, though now I can’t remember why. As we approached the teller, she seemed somehow familiar. Oh yes, she was one of the inebriated revelers from the night before. It really is a small world in a small town.

Sunday came. We went to a mass celebrated by the priest who had done our wedding, then we gathered up our belongings and were taken to Toledo, with my parents and my brother, to catch a plane back to Denver. The flight seemed ordinary until very near the end. The pilot’s voice came over the intercom to announce that there was a minor problem with the landing gear, which meant the plane needed to circle until its fuel was used up. When it was finally time to land, we noticed many flashing lights by the side of a runway that had been covered with foam.

I joked that ours might turn out to be a very short marriage. Cathy chastised me, stating that words have power and I should never say such a thing. She was right, and I shut up.

The pilot did a great job of setting the plane down, and the passengers burst into spontaneous applause. I don’t think it was for us, though the congregation had done that after the wedding ceremony.

Cathy and I remain married – to each other; it is 33 years now, and counting.