Feb. 11, 1998
I'm not sure why, but everybody I've run into over the last couple
of weeks keeps asking me the same question: "Are you nervous yet?"
What for? I'm getting married, not going to the dentist!
Thirty-nine and a half years of blissful bachelorhood come to
an end Saturday. I'm happy, I'm content, this is good. Peg's the girl I've
been waiting for all my life. No jitters whatsoever.
The only thing about it all that's making me nervous is the price-tag:
This is the "simple" ceremony? Ack!
When we first decided to get married, I really wanted to make
a big production of it — you know, full Renaissance/medieval/fantasy costuming,
bagpipes, swords and shields, that kind of thing. We backed off the idea
mainly because of the shortness of time (and the fact that my brother Mike
adamantly refuses to wear the clan kilt). We finally determined that we'll
do the big show to renew our vows, and in the meantime just use the 1040EZ
version for the actual wedding.
My concept: we gather in the JP's chambers. He says "Do You?"
We say "Yeah," and everybody's back home in 15 minutes.
Say what you will, that's a good, solid, solution-oriented male
perspective on weddings.
Needless to say, once the women-folk of the family took charge
of the arrangements, things changed slightly. I'm convinced that our female
relatives are big Cecil B. deMille fans. The affair is now a cast of thousands.
The guest list is a nice example. We decided on "just a few close
family and friends."
"We don't send Christmas presents to all these people, do we?"
I asked Peg once I saw the 15-page list of close family and friends. She
shook her head, which brought a sigh of relief from me.
My tongue still tastes like stamps.
(I have to admit, though, my mischevious nature got the better
of me. I think our guests will faint if Bill and/or Monica show up.)
Fortunately, Peg's sense of humor is about as close to mine as
a person can get without being straightjacket material. She decided to
register at Club Bride at the big department store to make it easier for
folks to get us gifts we really need.
Problem is, we don't really "need" anything — so, grinning, we
went for broke.
Unfortunately, they don't put scannable bar-codes on "FOR SALE"
signs in front of those really big houses around here, nor on the many
luxury automobiles we tried to scan in. You realtors and auto dealers missed
a gem of a chance.
And, of course, there's the sighs I get every time I mention
that we're getting married on Valentine's Day. "Oh, that's soooo sweet
and romantic!" I hear.
The ladies I work with here at The Times office, of course, know
different, aware that I'm not really good with things like birthdays, holidays
and time changes.
Getting married on Valentine's Day makes it easier to remember
the anniversary.