SEEING SILVER

Twenty-five years ago, Tim and I hosted quite a party.

We were married on November 5, 1988.

It was a weekend to remember.  Mom and I cooked a rehearsal dinner for 75 people.  Family and friends – anyone who made the trip to St. Louis - were invited and gathered in our old, three-story house on Utah Place.  The ceremony was Saturday afternoon at St. Pius V and the reception Saturday night at the White House.

Memories run rampant, but it’s the oddest things that are most clear.

At the rehearsal dinner, by the time Tim and I trudged up three flights of stairs, said “hello” to everyone, and returned to the first floor kitchen, there was no food left.

At the ceremony, I remember homeless people finding shelter in the back row of the sanctuary and Tim’s family donning wax lips as we turned to face the congregation, so that we burst out laughing.

I remember driving to the reception in Tim’s little blue Jetta as snow fell, then a typical St. Louis buffet (fried chicken and mostacolli,) and Aunt Julie trying to pin up my skirt so I could dance.  Tim loves to tell the tale of our “dollar dance” when his friend Denny asked:  If a dollar got him a dance, what did $5 get him?  I told him “change.”

There are dozens of little stories like that, but what means the most to me after all these years are all the people who made the trip to St. Louis – from Iowa and Colorado and Wisconsin, Chicago and Nashville and Spokane.  They took over the Red Roof Inn on Hampton and the Holiday Inn in Clayton.  They filled the hallways and called to each other from balconies.  And they all came to wish us well.

Tim and I have done well, been well, are well.  I wish all those people were around for another party, so we could assure them that their trip to St. Louis in 1988 was worth it.  But the party would be far smaller this time round; we’ve lost so many.

Tim’s mom, aunt, uncle and cousin Ida were all at the wedding.  All gone now. 

All four of my grandparents saw me get married.  Today, there’s only Gram.

Many great-aunts and uncles made the trip.  But now so many gone.

This move to San Antonio came at a particularly opportune time, just in time for this anniversary.  I’ve recently touched and put away all of our belongings…including wedding gifts.  It afforded me time to remember and appreciate – the saucepan from Auntie Helen, the stepstool from my Great-Aunt Eunice, the bowls from my Great-Aunt Florence.  The dining room furniture made it to San Antonio; it was a gift from Tim’s mom.

These things and these people set the stage for quite a production – the dramedy of jobs and children and building a relationship to last.

I wish all those dear souls could see us, embarking on our next great adventure, in San Antonio.  And yet, somehow, I know they are; they are watching and smiling and toasting us once again.