Ada and I were married exactly 43 years ago today. I felt like writing a little about that day and the 43 years that have followed in the blink of an eye, so with your kind indulgence...
August 25, 1968...Temple Emmanu-El, Marblehead, Massachusetts. It was the hottest day in recorded history. Anywhere. The temperatures topped off at 296 degrees as I remember. If there were any air conditioning at the Temple, I sure don't recall. At the last minute we changed our vows and inserted: "...in sickness and in health, whatever the heat index happens to be..."
Not to be gross but I clearly remember sweating right through my rented tuxedo during the reception. Yes, I was some catch. Ada, of course, was quite beautiful and unflappable. She was determined to have an enjoyable and fun wedding, whatever the weather. Ada was the opposite of a Bridezilla.
It's weird but I don't remember too many details from that day other than the general impression that we all had a good time despite the heat. There were no dramatic or embarrassing incidents to be relived through the years; just a lot of good friends and relatives who were all quite comfortable with this very expected union and were free from any stress over what might transpire at the wedding. Ada and I had been going out quite steadily since we were 15, so there were no real surprises here.
We had been thoroughly vetted, as they say these days.
Our honeymoon was, shall we say, less than extravagant. After the reception, we hopped into our 1968 Rambler American Coupe (similar to the one pictured above, but dark green in color) and headed north to New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. We boarded the ferry (I can't remember if it was Portland or Bar Harbor) and made our way to Canada for the next week or so. Mostly we just rode around enjoying the rocky coastline. It's hard for me to imagine now, but I don't believe we had any kind of itinerary. We just winged it in our hot little Rambler.
With the advantage of hindsight, I can see now how this honeymoon kind of symbolized much of our wonderful life together. There was absolutely nothing glamorous about it or about us. Every place we visited was grounded in reality: farms, lobster pounds, rocky coves, fishing villages. These were hardly all-inclusive resorts, but, then again, we weren't the all-inclusive type. (Seinfeld aficionados, please insert: "Not that there's anything wrong with that!") We were 21-years-old, quite unsophisticated, the opposite of worldly. The Maritimes were about as exotic as we could muster at the time. It would be much later before we would venture out "deeper in the pool" to fairytale places like England, Aruba, or Cohasset.
When we returned from our honeymoon, we set up our first apartment, in the Montclair section of Quincy, MA. It was a miserable, tiny place with a weird layout. I chose it because it only cost $100 a month. Like I said before, I was some catch! If Ada was disappointed in it, she never let on. Eventually, we left there for a nicer place in Waltham after the landlord became angry over our attempt to bring in a dog. Ada would soon begin her teaching career in Newton while I was working as a reporter for the Quincy Patriot Ledger. As I think about it, we must have shared the one car for both jobs. I was on the 4 to midnight shift, so I must have waited for Ada to return from school before I could get to work. Our first salaries were in the $5,000-$6,000 range, but with both of us working, we did fine other than the fact that we hardly saw each other most days. I'm sure that not having me around only increased our chances for a happy marriage.
We lived within our means. That was our style. Our cars, clothes, houses, vacations, and entertainments were always sensible. I don't ever remember making a conscious decision to live this way; it was just what both of us were comfortable with. We put up with a little personal discomfort rather than spend "wastefully." I guess we both felt that we were all meant to "suffer" a little; it built character. One way in which this attitude manifested itself was in the notion of never, ever, ever paying to park in Boston. If we had to walk 10 miles to get to the ballgame/movie/concert, so be it. Paying to park was an example of the kind of "luxury" we chose not to indulge in. Also, we never had a home with any kind of air conditioning. It was better to suffer ten or twenty nights a year than to give in to this indulgence, we thought.
We didn't consider ourselves heroic or particularly strong-willed and we certainly didn't mind what other people did. (Actually we tried to cultivate as many "air-conditioned friendships" as we could because our freakin' house was completely unbearable!)
Did we "miss out" on some enjoyable adventures and opportunities during those early married days? Of course. Did we mind? Not really. It's all about finding out what lifestyle makes you comfortable and being happy with that. I think by and large, we succeeded. When the boys came along, we were able to raise them comfortably if not extravagantly. I don't think Josh or Matt would say they felt deprived in any way.
Of course as the years wore on and we both kept working, we found that we could comfortably afford more so-called luxury items. At one point, I even consented to buy sunglasses. That was a big step for me, friends.
During our nine wonderful retirement years together, we certainly didn't hold back. Thankfully, and owing to our earlier fiscal conservatism, we didn't have to.
Tomorrow will be August 26th and I will stop wallowing in the past and will look forward to Kate's return from Jacksonville and our October move about ten miles from here to a lovely rented house right near Choctawhatchee Bay in Santa Rosa Beach.
But today was made for memories.
Ain't life grand?
J
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