Category Archives: Learning from our past

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 (#121)

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Tuesday, November 25, 1969

Today was the day Nate picked up his new suit, shirt, and tie. His parents knew we were tight financially and had sent a check earlier, instructing him to make the purchases. “You need something fresh for the rehearsal dinner and related events,” they had said. “And not a sport coat. Make it a suit.”

Then they added, “We’ve sent some extra money for you to buy a new pair of pajamas, too – for your honeymoon.”

Nate and I had a long laugh over that one, although he did dutifully buy some sky-blue PJs with white piping around the collar and pocket — in case they asked. Both of us knew those ‘jammies would never make it out of the package.

IMG_5340On this day, the Tuesday of our wedding week, Nate walked in with the finished suit  zippered inside a Carson Pirie Scott garment bag. He’d chosen a dignified charcoal grey that was nicely tailored, and I made him model it — another opportunity to tell him he was the handsome-est, best-lookin’ guy I’d ever met. We did a little dance around the apartment, reveling in the knowledge that we were so close to our wedding weekend.

After that it was time to have a brief but important little ceremony, just the two of us. Many months ago, Nate and I had discussed whether or not we would use birth control after we were married…. and if so, what kind. “The pill” was new and highly controversial, and we weren’t sure it was our best choice.

But as the weeks passed and we researched other options, the pill seemed like the way to go. And many of our married friends were using it without any problems.

Taking BC pillTaking that first one with a swallow of wine, though, felt like starting a ritual I wasn’t sure I should, despite both Nate and I voting in favor. I loved children and had arranged my life to include plenty of them, as far back as I could remember. Taking the pill was saying no to our own babies, and there was a tiny prickle of doubt in the back of my brain. But I swilled it down anyway, looking forward to the years immediately ahead – with just Nate and me. It sounded blissful.

That evening we invited friends John and Cathy to share a soup supper with us. Nate wanted to work on the logistics of our getaway after the reception, and John would be our driver.

IMG_5335We shared some of the post-wedding shenanigans we knew about, including my sister’s experience. Her honeymoon luggage had been “stolen” before the end of the reception, and she wore my dress for their departure – an outfit 2 sizes too big for her. Her suitcase was deposited in Mom and Dad’s driveway in the middle of that night and then quietly brought to Bervin (by me) the next day.

 

Nate and I hoped to make our transition from reception to honeymoon a little smoother than that, with John and Cathy expediting it. They were up for it, without reservations.

John apologized for his old, slightly banged-up “poverty car,” but that didn’t matter to us. “Will it be in the pictures?” he asked.

“It probably will,” Nate said, “but don’t worry. It’ll be dark out.”

So we made a plan to evade mischief-makers, but more than likely they were simultaneously making a plan of their own.

“Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed.” (Proverbs 15:22)

Young Love (#118)

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November 20-21, 1969

Very soon my apartment was going to become our official first home as a married couple. Although Nate and I had accumulated several cast-off furniture items, most of the space remained empty. After 4 bridal showers, we had lots of china, crystal, and silver but no place to put it. For the most part, it was still in boxes.

IMG_5339My long-term friend Lynn offered to come and help make things home-ier for us. She and I had met at Moody Church when we were both in junior high school, when her parents had come to run the music ministry.

Lynn and I clicked right away, but our homes were separated by two suburbs – which meant we didn’t see each other during the week. Since phoning friends was frowned upon, we did most of our talking in the back rows during Sunday school and church.

IMG_5343When the weekends came, we pleaded for sleep-overs until our mothers finally chose a gas station half-way between our two homes where we made the girl-transfers. Our friendship grew quickly after that. (Left: pea-shooting at cars.)

We tried cigarettes together, had our first taste of alcohol together, dated brothers together, and snuck out of our homes during the night together. We got into trouble at camp together, dyed our hair orange together, hosted parties together when our parents were out of town…. and also taught Sunday school together. Our shared history was rich.

Lynn was full of artistic ideas. Over the years she taught me to knit sweaters, sometimes with such complicated patterns we’d be using five different colored yarns at once. She could also sew up a storm and taught me to make simple skirts and jumpers. Lynn was a whiz in the kitchen, too, and showed me how to make teriyaki chicken, among other things.

I knew that if she put her creative touches on our apartment, it would take on the warmth it lacked.

FullSizeRender(3)When she arrived, she’d brought a gizmo that made flowers out of yarn or string, and went to work using our 3 colors: orange, yellow, and kiwi green. Nate and I both loved the results. She also showed me how to arrange books and knick-knacks on our shelves in artistic ways and even initiated washing windows and hanging curtains.

Lynn was going to be one of my bridesmaids and was doing more than her fair share by sewing 3 of the gowns. But she was a pro at multi-tasking and was managing well, despite a full school schedule and a job. I was appreciative beyond words.

IMG_5344Our time working at the apartment was full of laughter and love – two old friends who had been through a decade of adventures together that had moved them from middle school to marriage. (Lynn’s wedding would be the following year.)

All this reminded me of how much I’d missed girl-time with her and other buddies back home. But stepping into marriage meant stepping out of that old life. Walking down the aisle was saying yes to radical change in every area. Was I ready?

As Nate and I stood holding hands while waving goodbye to one of my dearest friends, I had the feeling everything was going to turn out just fine.

“If anything is excellent or praiseworthy…. think about such things.” (Philippians 4:8)