Like so many women I remember my wedding day as one of the most exciting days of my life. I also remember mine as a comedy of errors that set the tone for our marriage.
May 15, 1965
May 15, 1965 was a gorgeous day. It was not the date we’d planned on; Uncle
Sam had summoned the groom-to-be to report to Fort Knox, Kentucky the week
before the date on the invitations.
Stubborn man, that Uncle Sam; we moved the wedding up from June 20th
to May 15th by inserting a card with the new date into the
invitations. That caused a lot of
curiosity and finger counting, but it couldn’t be helped.
The day of the wedding my maid of honor, (and cousin)
Theresa, and I got our hair styled then loaded our gowns into the back of a
station wagon to head to the church. I
had carefully gone down my check list of things to take with me; unfortunately
I’d forgotten the hoop that went under my dress. A groomsman had to run
back to the house for that important item.
The day stretched out before me as one long problem solving
test. Once the hoop arrived we realized
the string at the waist had been lost in transit. I grabbed a large safety pin and fished the
green string from the florist boxes through the waist band; problem
solved.
The bridesmaids were supposed to be wearing white carnation
head pieces and carrying matching bouquets.
Someone, somewhere, must have enjoyed those items; my bridal party wore
the (wrong) pink carnation head pieces and bouquets with their teal gowns and actually
looked quite spiffy. Too late to change
anything; problem solved.
Quite a bit of time had elapsed since the bridesmaid dresses
had been ordered and we found that my maid of honor had gained a couple of
pounds since the last fitting. To make things work we put her into my white
long line bra and hoped for the best as we zipped it up. In spite of her shallow breathing she looked lovely. Under my white wedding gown I had to wear
her black strapless bra; by some miracle it didn’t show through my dress. Too late to do anything else; problem solved.
If any of you had a groom that was late on his wedding day I
can sympathize with you. There was a
parade going down Park Avenue past the First English Church that day; my groom was delayed and actually
had to ride in the parade for a time to get to the wedding. What’s a groom to do? Problem solved.
The parades of my youth always featured what looked like a
caboose with a small cannon mounted on it; I think it was a service club that sponsored the thing.
The parade on our wedding day was no exception, so the wedding service was
punctuated by cannon-fire.
The ceremony went something like this:
“Do you, Anita, (BOOM!) take this man (BOOM!) to be your
lawfully wedded husband? (BOOM!)It was at this point in the ceremony that we quietly interrupted and informed the minister that my name was not 'Anita'…he corrected himself and continued; (BOOM!)
At last we got through the service and headed to the front door, only to be diverted to the side door because the parade was just finishing up. I balked! I’d waited for the day I could walk down those front steps to be showered with rice. (These were the enviornmentally incorrect sixties, remember) I wasn’t about to be relegated to the side door. I won the argument, but lost the war because our guests had been directed to the side door. They had listened, done as they were told, and moved on. Eventually everyone came back around to the front of the church and I had my hard-headed way. Larry and I finally exited the beautiful old church by the front door. Clumsy but doable; problem solved.
This wedding got our marriage off to a good start with a
sense of humor that has come in very handy over the years; but that’s not the
end of the story.
After the wedding I took my dress to Swan Cleaners where it
was cleaned, wrapped in blue tissue and sealed into a big box. The box, marked YOUR WEDDING DRESS, was shuttled
from attic to basement to attic through our various moves.
From time to time I would open the cover and admire the
bodice of the dress through the large sealed window of the box. The
sequins and little beads sparkled and winked; replacing the top I would again tuck
it away.
11/28/1989
As the years flew by we produced three great kids, a son and two
daughters. Eventually the day arrived
that one of our daughters was to be married.
Our Wendy was marrying Todd Hunt and had decided she wanted to wear my wedding dress; naturally I was thrilled. They had a beautiful, but much less eventful,
wedding than our own. Afterward the dress went back
into the box and was returned to the corner of the attic from whence it had
come.
Tracy (Coon) Whitaker
12/26/1997
12/26/1997
More years passed, and now daughter number two was being married;
Tracy also wanted to wear my wedding dress when she married Bob Whitaker.
The dress made a third trip down the aisle at First English Lutheran
Church, then was once again packed away.
By this time the big blue box had fallen apart; the well-used
wedding dress was now consigned to an airtight plastic bin and placed on the
shelves in the basement.
In June of last year I had the good luck to meet Jo Hill. If you read the current edition of Heart of
Ohio Magazine you know I met her at Malabar Farm where she was
displaying her miniature reproduction of the suit Lauren Bacall wore when she
married Humphrey Bogart. Jo is a very
talented woman who painstakingly created miniatures of Jackie Kennedy’s gown and the
wedding gown from Gone with the Wind, to name a few. Meeting
her reminded me about my own wedding dress and the fact that my daughters didn’t
have one of their own to keep.
Interviewing this soft spoken seamstress for the article,
it occurred to me to ask Jo if she ever made miniature wedding gowns from the
original gown; she said she had. So,
one late summer day, I found myself taking my gown and the pictures of the
three of us wearing the gown to Jo Hill.
A few weeks later I got a call saying the gowns were
finished; Jo would bring them to my office the next day. As anxious as I was to see them, I simply
didn’t know what to expect. When she
pulled the first one out of the box and put it on the stand I was stunned. Using my gown, the sequins and lace, even the
zipper, Jo Hill had created an exact miniature of the original.
Although I had asked Jo to make two gowns for my
daughters she had enough material left to do a third. When she left that day
she took the ‘left-overs’ with her and two weeks later she delivered my own
miniature wedding gown to me.My intention was to give the dresses to the girls at Christmas, but I simply couldn’t wait that long. Patience has never been my strong suit, so of course I found myself calling them to come over for coffee. They arrived with a ‘what’s this about’ look on their faces that changed to surprise and happiness when they opened the big box that contained the beautiful miniatures.
I don’t think I have ever given anyone a gift that gave me more pleasure. I have enough pieces of the original gown left to fashion something to go into the bouquets of my granddaughters and the brides of my grandsons. It could serve as “something old” should they decide to do a traditional wedding, or perhaps a head wrap if they are married on a Harley. If I am fortunate enough to be there I will be pleased to know that our wedding gown is still being put to good use.
Thank you Jo Hill for sharing your talent with me to make it possible to give this special gift to my daughters.
It should be noted our son, Brian , presented me with a third daughter when he married Carla (Hrivnak) Coon at First English Lutheran on 7/31/1998. Although she was much too tiny to wear my dress, she occupies a big place in my heart.
Just like a lot of stories, this one has a moral: When you get married it is very important that you choose a groom and a wedding dress that will hold together for the long haul.
Life is Good
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