Category Archives: Thankfulness

Young Love (#142)

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A note to blog readers:

 

WheatonThis weekend I’ll be attending the 50th reunion of my Wheaton graduating class – 1967! I won’t be able to blog for a few days, but before I go, I want to bring this bride and groom to THE thrilling moment they’ve been anticipating for so many months – in room 334 at The Drake Hotel in Chicago….

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November 30, 1969… 2:00 AM

At long last Nate and I were on our honeymoon, and oh how we had looked forward to this day! Both of us were anticipating the fun of our first sex, but like the cherry on a sundae, we wanted to save the best for last.

PJsIn a silly little ceremony we pulled our night clothes out of our luggage and laid them on the bed, taking a picture. Nate’s PJs were still in their plastic package, and although my gauzy nightie was very pretty, I knew it was scratchy at the seams. We decided to ignore formality and go with comfort.

Nate had thought of everything and produced a bottle of wine, which had been chilling on ice. “I thought this might be a good idea,” he said. And of course it was. He got out of his jeans, and I put on my comfy old bathrobe.

 

ComfyThe Drake had given us two glasses to go with the wine, and as we sipped, we talked over the weekend, beginning with Thanksgiving dinner. Moving through each day, hour by hour, we laughed and compared our impressions. What stood out to each of us? What was funny? Surprising? How did we feel when we were being joined in marriage?

Relaxing there in the living room of our suite, I hung on Nate’s every word and couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

 

A ring...Suddenly he lifted his hand and said, “Hey, look-it! A wedding ring!” All I could do was dive in his direction and cover his face with kisses.

As the wine warmed us, our giggling increased, and anticipation started to build. We actually began talking about our first love-making experience and what the next moments would be like. We had read books and knew that the first time didn’t always turn out well. We shared our expectations of each other and ourselves, but agreed that with us, it was going to be nothing but pure pleasure.

Then, all of a sudden, it was as if we ran out of things to say… and we were there. Nate took my hand, and we moved into the bedroom. As we did, I remembered the night weeks ago at our apartment in Champaign when we’d gotten a bit too passionate and had had trouble stopping. “This time,” I said, “there’ll be no stopping us!”

And with that, we proceeded to lose our virginity – the gift we’d both worked so hard to save for each other on this very important day…

…pure pleasure indeed.

“Go ahead… Drink your wine with a happy heart, for God approves of this! Live happily with the woman you love.” (Ecclesiastes 9:7,9)

Young Love (#141)

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November 29-30, 1969

John & CathyJohn had driven our getaway car like a maniac, and we were proud of him for accomplishing exactly what he said he would – successfully separating us from our pursuers. Though Nate and I were anxious to get to The Drake Hotel and officially get our honeymoon started, we didn’t want to say goodbye to these dedicated friends too abruptly.

Sitting behind the gas station with our car lights off (just in case…), we were starting to worry about Nate in the bathroom so long. Then he came running out, dressed in jeans and juggling all the pieces of his tuxedo. “You wouldn’t believe how nice it was in there,” he said. “A full length mirror and everything!”

Choking on a laugh John said, “That, buddy, is because you were in the ladies room.” – which of course was the last thing gentleman-Nate would ever knowingly do.

MacsOn our way back to the expressway we spotted a McDonalds and decided to do something unconventional for a wedding night —   celebrate our victorious escape with a little treat. Sharing warm apple pie and coffee (in the car, of course), we laughed about the wedding party probably still trying to figure out how we got away. And we had to admit – the whole thing had been a happy lark.

When John pulled up to The Drake, it was almost 1:00 AM. We thanked him, then turned our attention to finding room 334. Nate had splurged on a two-room suite for the first night of our 4-day honeymoon, but we would transfer to a less lavish room for the remaining nights.

The Drake front door.As we entered the elegant Drake lobby full of fancy people, Nate had his tux neatly folded over his arm. I had my gown, train, and veil in a big round bundle with the crown perched on top. When the man at the desk spotted us, he smiled broadly. “Wedding day?”

“Yes,” Nate said, giving me a knowing look. “And a great day… so far!”

The bell hop picked up our suitcases and rode the elevator with us. He, too, couldn’t resist commenting. “Wedding night at The Drake, eh?”

As we nodded he said, “You’re lucky. There’s no finer place.”

He closed the door behind himself, and we looked at each other with a brand new look. Finally! We were married. We were alone. And we were free to do whatever we wanted. No one was going to object. No one was going to call, knock, or appear unannounced. And what a delicious feeing that was!

RosesEven though it was late, both of us wanted to slow down and savor the next moments. I spotted a dozen red roses in a pretty vase standing in a mirrored alcove. “Roses!”

“Read the card,” Nate said.

“To Mrs. Nyman… I love you, Meg.  Nate.”

Ahh… I loved the sound of it. Mrs. Nyman.

As I looked at the card, I flashed back to those hundreds of letters Nate had written in which he’d repeatedly penned those words:

I love you, Meg.  I love you, Meg.  I love you, Meg.

I love you, Meg.

Though it had taken me a long while to know I loved him back, he was rock-sure from the very beginning – a thought that warmed me now, through and through.

What if he hadn’t been patient enough? Or hopeful enough? Or resolute enough? What if he hadn’t persevered? I didn’t even want to think about it.

“Pursue… faith, love, perseverance, and gentleness.” (1 Timothy 6:11)

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)