Category Archives: Remembering

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 (#120)

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November 24, 1969

The bedroom at our apartment was still empty, but the promise of Julie’s beautiful antique furniture kept us from worrying. It wouldn’t be delivered until some time in December, but that was fine with us. After all, when we returned from our honeymoon, we could sleep in the Murphy bed. Its swoopy metal bands drooped in the center, but what newlywed couple would mind meeting in the middle?

Nate and I were looking forward to eventually sleeping in a regular bed but were almost as eager to get some real dresser drawers. Clothes were being stored on the floor – not the best arrangement, especially since we had to pay high laundromat prices to get everything washed.

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Nate still did his own laundry since his clothes were kept at his rented room, but soon we’d be doing laundry together — which sounded fun! We knew we had to bring his clothes and books over from his rental before leaving on Wednesday, since his last rent check covered only through November. We wouldn’t be back until December 3rd.

That meant we had 3 days (actually just 3 evenings) to transfer everything over, pack for the wedding and honeymoon, and make the drive back to Wilmette. Packing was complicated since we needed separate piles for 3 pre-wedding nights and 4 honeymoon nights.

Our plan was to keep the honeymoon luggage separate and hide it in Nate’s VW before squirreling away the car in a Chicago parking garage. Knowing my family loved practical jokes, we were trying to keep risk at a minimum. It would help if our getaway driver could just quickly drop us at the Drake Hotel door. We could retrieve the car when it was time to drive back to Champaign.

Prep time was running out, and I still needed to shop for several clothing items. Nate needed to finish arranging and confirming the details of those precious-few honeymoon days. As we worked and planned, the three-day work-week seemed like nothing more than an obstacle to getting the really important things done. But Principal Scarce had made it clear he expected me to teach on those 3 days. And Nate knew missing more classes than the ones for our honeymoon might set him back badly.

IMG_5338Just when I was feeling intense time-stress, my groom did something that calmed my nerves. On Monday when Judy dropped me off at the apartment after work, Nate wasn’t home as he usually was.

But an hour later when the door opened, there he was, looking like Santa without a red suit. He was carrying two stuffed pillow cases and sporting a giant smile.

“What’s all this?” I said, after delivering a kiss.

“It’s your clothes,” he said. “I did your laundry for you — to save you some time!”

I hadn’t found time to do the wash but couldn’t pack till everything was clean. Realizing it had already been done, gave me just the lift I needed, and I threw my head back and laughed in appreciation. “Even the pillow cases are clean,” he said, happy about my reaction.

As always, Nate had been thinking of my needs ahead of his own and had come up with a practical way to help me. Never mind that the contents of the pillow cases needed the touch of an iron. This guy had found one more way to say I love you – and that’s what mattered most.

“Two people…. can help each other succeed.” (Ecclesiastes 4:9)

Young Love (#119)

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November 22-23, 1969

The weekend arrived, and Nate stepped into the apartment bright and early. “A week from now we’ll be hitched!” he said, picking me up and spinning me around. It was a moment of pure joy.

After packing up his VW, we headed back across the familiar route to Wilmette, hoping to tie up a few loose ends. For one, my gown hadn’t arrived at the bridal shop, and I wanted to find out why.

For another, we hadn’t decided what the 7 bridesmaids would wear on their heads. It was too late to order anything, but Mom thought we could fabricate something out of sewing scraps. I figured the girls could go topless (just their heads, of course), but Mom nixed that idea. “It’s a formal wedding,” she said. “Their heads need something on them.”

Avacado.When we walked into Mom and Dad’s house, we couldn’t believe the transformation. Their kitchen was completely put together, with something we’d never seen before: avocado appliances. And Mom had chosen a stove with, of all things, a glass top. Amazing. She had a double oven built right into the wall and a four-foot square fixture of fluorescent light on the ceiling. The whole thing looked like something out of the Jetsons!

 

In the corner she’d had her carpenter build a bench that sat along the south and west walls with storage underneath, “….so we can sit lots of bottoms around the table,” she said.

IMG_5329The living room had been carpeted in dusty blue and topped with several pieces of new furniture. Draperies would be delivered on Monday. The built-in cabinets (with lights) expanded the dining space and made Mom’s Sunday dishes look very pretty. “You two will be getting the old china cabinet,” she told us. We were delighted to know we’d finally have storage for our sweaters, shirts, and socks.

Mom was in her glory, tidying up and putting her well-worn pots and pans into new kitchen cabinets. Dad reported that the new sound system at Moody Church had been completed, an eight-month project. It had made a successful debut’ the Sunday before, lifting a heavy load from his shoulders.

The schedule for our wedding week was flapping on the new refrigerator door and included daily runs to the airport to shuttle incoming guests. By Wednesday, relatives from California and New York would all be on hand, and that’s when the real fun would begin.

IMG_5356Mom was especially eager for her son’s return from the east coast that same day.

 

 

 

 

As Nate and I drove back to Champaign on Sunday evening, my wedding gown was in transit to the bridal shop (we hoped), and we’d decided to put ribbon bows on the bridesmaids’ heads. It seemed every item had been checked off the list, and as we drove the 3 hours home, a feeling of deep contentment settled over both of us. A song by the Carpenters came on the radio: “We’ve only just begun.”

I turned to Nate and said, “Hey. Let’s make this ‘our song,’ OK? ”

His response surprised me. “Actually, I have a better one.”

“You do?”

“It’s, ‘You Make Me So Very Happy’.” And he grinned.

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“Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live.” (Ruth 1:16)