Your Wedding is When?!?

You would think they would have said something. Isn't that what grown-ups are supposed to do when they see their children headed to the brink of disaster?

Not our parents.

Not that we would have listened. Our wedding was set for December 17, 1966. That's it. That's all. End of discussion.

Brad and I were "set up" (talk about a double entendre!) by one of my new co-workers and his girlfriend. I had just graduated from Ripon (WI) College in June 1966 and was hired for A. O. Smith Corporation's Milwaukee-based Management Training Program.

The blind date was one of the very few I've heard of that worked out. Brad and I were "together" from that evening on.

WHIRLWIND*

1. a small rotating windstorm of limited extent

2.a : a confused rush

b : a violent or destructive force or agency

What was our hurry, you might ask. Unlike a couple of the dozen or so sorority sisters who graduated with me that June and had weddings the following weekend, a shotgun was not needed for my nuptials. Readers who are my contemporaries will remember what the pressure was like back then for a girl to get a ring on her finger before it was too late. In my family, at 22, I was on the verge of being declared an Old Maid.

Besides, young love was not to be complicated with rational thought. Never mind that Brad was a year younger and still in his senior year at Carleton College (Northfield, MN.) Never mind that he had no job and I was making a staggering $5,500 a year. We were in love and we wanted to live together openly (instead of the way we were -- on the down low.)

CLUELESS*

1. having or providing no clue

2. completely or hopelessly bewildered, unaware, ignorant, or foolish

And so it was. Dumb and Dumber were set to marry exactly one week before Christmas Eve, the dead of winter in my hometown of Maywood, Illinois.

My indulgent mother, bless her heart, fired up the Singer as soon as I had designed my bride's maids dresses. Of course I chose the thickest deep blue velvet I could find, and it broke a record number of sewing machine needles as she whipped up lovely empire-waisted gowns for my sister and my best friend. She booked the hall, cajoled the priest into accelerating the marriage classes for my non-Catholic fiancé, pulled in favors in the community for a deal on cut-rate flowers, and planned a reception on a shoestring budget.

When the invitations went out six weeks before the wedding, many recipients were unable to hide their surprise. "The week before Christmas, Lezlie? Really? How...um, unusual." Did I even consider for a moment that their surprise was really covering annoyance for having yet another gift to buy at Christmastime and, for many, having to travel during the busiest and most treacherous time of the year? Of course not.

INCONSIDERATE*

1a . heedless, thoughtless

b : careless of the rights or feelings of others

2. not adequately considered : ill-advised

Omens of the future of this union? Were there any? Oh yes.

ψ On Friday, December 16, 1966, during the wedding rehearsal at St. James Catholic Church and just before the groom's scheduled bachelor party, a lake-effect snowstorm blew in.

ψ I felt queasy standing at the altar and immediately attributed it to nerves. I WAS getting married, after all. However, the queasiness persisted and my legendary propensity for car sickness kicked in with a vengeance. While my dad cleaned off the car outside the back window I used to lose my lunch, my mom found the Pepto Bismol. She managed to get the spoon within an inch of my mouth before it became crystal clear this was something other than car sickness.

ψ The Big Day dawned, it was still snowing and my temperature was 101 degrees. My head ached, my throat was raw and a nagging cough was becoming more and more bronchial as the day progressed. My dogged determination to go through with the wedding as planned was admired and applauded by all.

ψ After sneaking into the side door wearing my notoriously ugly *golashes* under my snow white wedding gown, I peeked into the sanctuary, where amazingly, considering the weather, the church was filled with all the faces I loved. Except one. The best man was nowhere to be found and, in the days before cell phones, there was no way of determining his whereabouts. Drill sargeant Lezlie barked, "Let's start without him. I will not keep everybody waiting." When my father had walked me half-way down the aisle, I saw the best man in a full sprint down the side aisle, dropping his hat, coat and gloves behind him.

ψ When the groom reached up to lift the veil from my feverish face, he swayed foward and backward, side to side; eyes practically crossed. He was clearly still drunk from the night before, the bachelor party that apparently never ended. When the priest got to the part that required him to say "I will," I had to poke him in the ribs to make him respond. The laughter in the church told me I hadn't done it very discreetly.

ψ Somehow we got through the day, but we had to postpone our honeymoon. The day after the wedding I was diagnosed with walking pneumonia and ordered to bed for at least a week. On Christmas Day, I coughed myself into the ER, where the diagnosis was a cough-induced sprained back.

Why do I call these omens? This marriage was doomed to fail. We were divorced in 1970, but not before we had a fabulous son the third year in. If you're not tired of laughing yet, you can read the sorry details here.

*from the Free Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary