Category Archives: Friendship

Young Love (#140)

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November 29, 1969… 11:00 PM

Back in the early 1800’s, something called a “shivaree” became popular with wedding guests (especially drinking ones). After the newlyweds had left the reception, enthusiastic friends followed, equipped with pots, pans, and kettles, intending to harass the couple with a loud racket during their first night together.

In extreme cases, rabble-rousers kidnapped the bride overnight, forcing a delayed consummation of the marriage.

Although most of my married friends hadn’t experienced any shenanigans after their weddings, I had a hunch we were in for it – not a kidnapping or a shivaree, but something. Bervin’s family in particular had a reputation for revelry after weddings and had, indeed, stolen Mary’s honeymoon suitcase before they’d left the church after their wedding.

Our luggage had been hiding in Chicago’s massive underground parking garage since Thanksgiving (inside Nate’s VW), so we weren’t worried about that. The morning of our wedding Nate had retrieved our suitcases and taken them to The Drake’s front desk.

Getting in the carWe hadn’t told a single person about our wedding night plan but expected our pursuers to follow until they figured it out – setting themselves up to bother us multiple times during the night.

As Nate and I complied with the photographer for a last set of photos in front of the church, we watched one car after another pull up behind ours, opening doors for bridesmaids and groomsmen to clamber in. When we finally pulled away, they did, too.

In the carPlan A was to head downtown and lose them in the crowded city, but they were tooting horns and flashing lights as we moved in and out of traffic, causing people to join the celebration by tooting back and making way for them. We flew past The Drake, looking longingly but not daring to stop.

Plan B was to head to the airport, leading our chasers to think we had plane tickets. But an expressway is the easiest place to tail a car, and after our 45 minute drive to O’Hare, they were still with us.

O'Hare.John suggested Plan C, that Nate and I run inside the airport, then try to hide. He would drive the airport circle once and return, when hopefully we could exit through a different door… without our pursuers.

It was the 1960’s, and airport security was non-existent. You could leave your car at the curb without a problem, and TSA hadn’t been invented. The general public could walk to any gate and even board planes with their loved ones to settle them in before saying goodbye. We knew if we could get our followers heading for the gates, we could shed them.

The first thing Nate and I encountered inside the airport was a small, open-air gift shop. Since I was quite conspicuous in my wedding gown, veil, and tipsy crown, we darted inside and crouched behind a glass display case. Peering through it, we were delighted to see Mary, Bervin, and assorted wedding party members run past, headed for the gates.

They’d missed us!

The shop clerks were giggling, but we couldn’t linger to explain. As soon as the wedding party was out of sight, we left the store, grabbed hands, and ran the length of the departure terminal, veil and train flying. Holding onto my crown I said, “I feel like we’re in a movie!”

Although several of the pursuing vehicles were still roaming the airport, when John pulled up and threw open his car door, we made a run for it and dove in, lying low. He sped off, and by the time we were on the expressway again, the coast was clear.

Our next step was to get out of our wedding clothes. Nate had instructed me to bring a change, but I’d forgotten. I did have my Jackie Kennedy coat, though. He had jeans and a shirt, so John turned off and found a gas station.

Ladies room.Cathy, John, and I laughed as we watched Nate rush into the outside bathroom door…

of the ladies room.

I wiggled out of my gown in the back seat and slipped into my blue coat, buttoning it to the chin. How appropriate, I thought. I’m wearing the same “outfit” on our wedding night that I wore on the night we met….

“I am very happy now…” (2 Corinthians 7:16)

Young Love (#134)

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November 29, 1969… 6:45 PM

A done dealAfter Nate and I had untangled ourselves from our post-wedding twirl-around, Mary straightened my veil and train, and we headed to a room behind the platform to wait while the sanctuary emptied. Wanting to spare guests a 2 hour receiving line, we had decided against having one. Instead Nate and I would move through the reception tables to connect with each person.

Siblings.Our caterer was waiting for us with fruit platters and congratulations as we let the joyful reality of our marriage settle in – a lovely sensation. Shortly there was a call from our ever-present photographer wanting the bride, groom, maid of honor, and best man back on the platform for another round of pictures.

 

Posing-Posing...As we posed he had to repeatedly remind Nate to look at him and not me. I found it mind- boggling that Nate was still as smitten as he had been 3 years earlier when we’d met.

Though I’d never understand it, I knew I was a very fortunate bride.

OnwardAfter that it was off to the reception downstairs for a light supper. Cousin Patti, 15, was eager to handle the guest book. “I hope you can get everybody to sign!” I said. And I knew her infectious giggle would get it done.

 

 

 

Eats.
In the church’s massive basement hall we found wedding guests having a good time while sharing a light supper. And I made a mental note to tell both Mom and Aunt Joyce how pretty the table skirts looked.

 

Our 6 sophisticated servers were busy making sure each guest had what they needed. I was thankful 3 apartment mates and 3 others had agreed to help and was impressed with how hard they were working.

Reception hostesses

(L. to R. Roommates Clarlyn and Marti, cousin Elaine, college chum Leslie, cousin Yvonne, and roommate Marsha)

Their long skirts, made from extra bridesmaid fabric, looked elegant as they gracefully moved through the room, never stopping to eat or drink themselves. True friends indeed.

PrivateAfter Nate and I took our places at the head table, the rest of the wedding party filled in on either side with their plates of food. It was a feast we all welcomed, and as we ate, Nate and I shared a few whispered words about what might happen after the reception.

Specifically we wondered about the shenanigans that might occur as we drove away from the church, though technically we had only 1 mile to our honeymoon destination. Champaign friends John and Cathy were ready to drive us away whenever we gave them the word. More than likely, though, we’d have to race around the city in the heavy Saturday traffic to lose our followers before we could safely go to The Drake Hotel.

For now, we would take pleasure in our wedding reception, in the people sharing it with us, and the tasty food that had been prepared. It was going to be a long, late (and exciting!) night before we slept, and our dinners would fortify us for everything that lay ahead.

“You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God, who has dealt wondrously with you.” (Joel 2:26)

Young Love (#130)

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November 29, 1969… 4:00 PM

 

Sisters.With two more hours before the ceremony, we were right on schedule. The photographer told us he had all he needed from the men’s dressing room, but he continued to direct traffic in the ladies lounge where all of us were ready.

Looking up from his clipboard he said, “Where are the mothers?”

The mothers

I was won-dering the same thing, hoping they weren’t in the basement rearranging table skirts. But just then, in they came – dressed and holding hands. Mom, familiar with all the nooks and crannies of Moody Church, had found a private place for the two of them to dress. No doubt they had been getting to know each other better, too.

The six children had arrived also, in a group, with their mothers. They had dressed at home and looked adorable. I was thankful for their willingness to cooperate and that none of them had gotten sick or were experiencing stage fright.

The childrenTimmy, the ring bearer, asked for his satin pillow, and once he had it, came to me with a question. “Mommy said these rings aren’t the real ones,” he said, fingering the two bands tied on with ribbons. “Is that right?”

I squatted down in front of him and tried to explain that the rings he was going to carry were real rings, though I didn’t tell him they’d come from a dime store. “They’re very important,” I told him, “because just like the other rings, they’re circles that go ’round and ’round. The circles represent love that goes around forever and ever. Just imagine that!”

“Oh,” he said, fingering his rings. “OK.” And he wandered off.

That reminded me. Where were our real rings? Relying on my responsible fiancé, I assumed he had them in his pocket and would see to it that Mary, my maid of honor, would have the ring for him, and his brother Ken, the best man, would have mine.

Our wedding bands weren’t fancy, but we’d had them engraved inside. Both included our initials, the wedding date, and the reference to a Song of Solomon verse (“I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.”). My ring for him said, Sol. 2:16    M.A.J. to W.N.N    11-29-69. His for me said the same, with initials reversed.

MomAs we posed for photos, I kept glancing at the door (now open), watching for Nate. The mothers stepped forward for their pictures with the bride, and as we were arranging ourselves for the next photograph someone said, “Hey – there’s Nate!”

 

 

The groom appears

 

 

I turned around, and my heart melted. There was my good-lookin’ guy, outfitted in his English tail coat, causing my heart to skip a beat. It was a moment of passion in which I could hardly believe that this wonderful person was actually willing to marry me.

“Could I have Meg for one minute?” he asked the photographer.

I thought, “You can have me for a lifetime!”

We came together with a meaningful embrace and stepped into the hall where he pulled our rings out of his pocket. “See? Engraved just like we wanted,” and he let me study them.

Nate's ring“When you put this ring on my finger,” he said, “it’ll be the highlight of my life.”

I smiled and kissed him. “Me too.”

He gave me his ring for Mary, just as the photographer stuck his head into the hall. “Time to assemble everybody in the church sanctuary for group pictures.”

And off we went, followed by a parade of all our nearest and dearest.

“[We] walked with many, leading the festive procession to the house of God with joyful and thankful shouts.” (Psalm 42:4)