Anniversary musings

Weddings are a big deal. In our modern culture, couples will put off the ceremony for years to save more money for the perfect dress or for all the bells and whistles. There is an effort to impress, to wow. Brides turn into bridezillas, insisting that the day is all about them.

I think that much of the reason for this is that as marriage has lost significance in our three-year-engagement, shacking-up, our-kids-can-be-flower-girls culture, the ceremony, for many, has become the marriage. Then on Monday it's back to life as they lived it before. (Well, the Monday after the Caribbean vacation dressed up as a honeymoon for the couple who has been playing at marriage for years.)

But not all weddings are like that. Some couples still fall in love, get engaged, and wait until they are joined before God and man to act like they are married. And those weddings seem to me to be especially joy-filled.

We were privileged two years ago today to have one of those weddings. Our daughter met the brother of one of my friends very briefly when he was in town before he deployed to Iraq. They communicated via computer and letter during his deployment. He came and stayed with our family a few times while on leave and after he got back. They went out on a couple of dates in November and December, and he spent Christmas with our family, then she went to Wisconsin to spend Christmas with his.

When he came for a visit for Valentine's Day, he brought a ring, and asked her father's blessing before he proposed. She said yes. And gave me six months to plan a wedding for almost 300 people.

Perhaps because everyone involved--the bride, the groom, her family, his family, the pastor--had the same understanding about what this day was about, there was no drama. This was a day about joining a man and a woman in the union that reflects the union of Christ and his bride the Church. This was a day that was about creating a new family.

And, once the ceremony was over, this was about throwing a party at which our family and friends could have an awesome time without driving her father into penury. And the bride was okay with that. She was looking forward to being married!

So we used a simple rubric to determine where we should spend money and where we should cut corners: Will this expenditure add to the enjoyment of our guests? If the answer was yes, we did it. If the answer was no, with very few exceptions, we didn't. And it was a great party. Certainly not the fanciest: paper plates and plastic cups are far cheaper than renting china and glass. The table decor was containers from thrift stores that were filled with flowers from Sam's Club by the bride and her friends. And lots of friends helped with preparations, allowing us to keep costs under control.

Am I saying that there is anything wrong with china, gorgeous flowers, etc.? Absolutely not! If we could have afforded it, I would have loved to have done things in a more elegant way. But it becomes a problem when couples put off marriage to save up for the show, or when families go into debt for a bash that they can't afford. We've been to lots of weddings over the years of all different levels of simplicity. We've been to receptions that were formal sit-down dinners at a country club and those that were snacks, cake, and punch in a church hall. They've all been lovely, but some stand out in my mind as having been permeated with a joy that comes from the fact that the vast majority of those present understand that something more significant than a legal check mark was happening there.

And today I am happy to celebrate the second anniversary of one of those. Happy anniversary, Bethany and Evan, and wishes for many many more.

Bonus: The other benefit that comes after an awesome wedding. . .

Unfathomable ingratitude

For several days, everywhere I went people were talking about the safe landing of US Airways Flight 1549. It was a beautiful piece of piloting. You would expect that everyone on that plane would be feeling grateful to be alive and ready to make the most of each day.

Not exactly. There are actually passengers thinking of suing US Airways. One guy who got a bloody nose says that he doesn't know yet how much emotional damage he has suffered. He says, “I just want to be made whole.” Snort.

If you want to read more go here.

And here's a piece in the Wall Street Journal about the underlying problem.

An American Carol

I know one thing I'm doing this weekend.

Quote of the Day

"Tarring and feathering, by the way, if carried on with a due consideration for sex and age and physical debility, need cause the honoree no permanent physical damage, and yet it is an excellent deterrent."

Anthony Esolen writing at Mere Comments on Enemies of the Permanent Things.

Christmas questions

Got this from my friend Meg's blog. Since I've been a bit blog-challenged lately I decided that these questions were just the thing I need.

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper.

2. Tree - Real or Artificial? Real. We go to a local tree farm and pick the perfect tree.

3. When do you put the Christmas tree up? Sometime between the 20-23.

4. When do you take the tree down? After Epiphany.

5. Like Egg Nog? Love it. Especially spiked and topped with real whipped cream and fresh grated nutmeg.

6. Do you have a nativity scene? A couple of them

7. Favorite gift received as a child? I'm not sure. Probably the baby doll and carriage that I got when I was about four. Or maybe the guitar that I got in seventh grade.

8. Hardest person to buy for? My youngest brother-in-law. He's single and really lacks nothing that he wants.

9. Easiest person to buy for? Bethany. Hands down.

10. Worst Christmas gift? Can't say. :)

11. Mail or email a Christmas Card? Mail. Ideally. When I get them done. Which isn't often.

12. Favorite Christmas movie? White Christmas

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? The day after TG

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? shhhhhh--yep!

15. Favorite food to eat on Christmas? Cookies!

16. Clear or colored tree lights? colored

17. Favorite Christmas Song? probably Hark the Herald Angels Sing

18. Travel during Christmas or stay home? Stay home as much as possible. For the first fifteen years we were married we lived out of state most of the time, so we had to travel, attend less-than-stellar Christmas services, and cram in tons of stuff into a couple of days. We vastly prefer to be at home, relax and enjoy our church services!

19. Can you name Santa’s reindeer’s? Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donder, Blitzen, Rudolph - but then Meg had them done already.

20. Angel or Star on tree top? Angel, now, but I want a star.

21. Open presents on Christmas Eve or morning? Christmas Day

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year? All of the debates, blather etc., about the secularization of Christmas. The commercial Christmas season is secular. It's become a part of the American culture. But nothing anyone else does or doesn't do can secularize the season of Advent or the Christ-mass that we celebrate. I enjoy both parts for what they are!

Now the tagging: I'm feeling lazy. I may come back and do real tags later, but for right now, if you read this, consider yourself tagged.

Why I hate Wal-mart

In reality, there are so many reasons I dislike Wal-mart, that I don't think I could list them all. Let's start with inferior products and dirty stores. That's enough reason to keep me from going there. Sam Walton's stores were packed with "Made in America" signs, now Walmart stocks mostly things that are made in China. Or maybe it's the strong-arm tactics they've used with companies to lower prices, lowering quality and hurting other companies in the process that makes me despise them.

I'm a shopper and I like a bargain, but I don't think that what we're getting at Wal-mart is a bargain. Check out this video, which was linked to by Scott for a look at an amusing take on Wal-mart's "low prices."

And please take off that stupid cap!

Still in curmudgeon mode:

I love to see men in hats. Real hats. Baseball caps are not hats. Baseball caps belong on boys. The only men who should be wearing baseball caps are those playing the game.

I was never annoyed by the ubiquitous billed caps until I started noticing a trend. Guys who wear them don't realize that they aren't supposed to leave them on inside. I have noticed that men who wear real hats tend to be very polite. They remove them inside. They remove them in the presence of a lady. Some of them even doff them. Unfortunately, the same cannot often be said of the overgrown boys who wear baseball caps. I know a very proper young lady who met a guy for coffee. He never took off his cap. Even if he had been fantastic in every other way, he wouldn't have had a chance.

I can understand why the guy doesn't want to take his cap off walking through Walmart or Gander Mountain. I'll cut him some slack. But when he's sitting in a restaurant--white tablecloth, cloth napkins, wine list--he needs to take it off. He also needs to wear a shirt with arms. Please.

ADDENDUM: Yes, many of the men I love wear baseball caps. My favorite bald guy often wears a baseball cap. My wonderful brother wears a baseball cap. That doesn't mean that I have to like it. And if they ever displayed poor hat etiquette, I would probably confiscate the hats. (My favorite bald guy is making a transition to real hats. He looks so incredible in his winter dress hat with his suit and overcoat on!)

Have some dignity

This post is going to sound rather curmudgeonly, but I am sick of seeing flesh everywhere I go. Way too much flesh. Whatever happened to leaving something to the imagination?

Last week my friend Polly sent me a link to this site about shorts. Last night Bethany and I kept seeing women who needed to see this site. Or a mirror. Seriously.

I don't wear shorts unless I'm playing tennis or--maybe--working outside. I am also one of those people who is always hot. I am living, breathing, walking, shopping, dining-out proof that a woman can dress comfortably in the summer without wearing shorts. I wish more of them would try it!

I don't have anything against shorts. Really. Slender young women with toned legs should definitely wear shorts if they want to. Fat fifty year olds should not, especially not short shorts with a tank top to the restaurant where I am paying over $20 a person for dinner. (Such a woman also should not eat her salad with her fork and the fingers of her other hand while chewing with her mouth open, but I digress.)

I also don't have anything against legs. But I do have something against fat thighs making shorts ride up until everyone can see way more of those legs--and other things-- than they ever wanted to.

There are several other posts coming on this topic and others related.

ADDENDUM: I do realize that there are some times and places for shorts: parks, beaches, amusement parks, etc. I don't even care if people want to wear them to the grocery store. Or the mall. Or Steak and Shake. Seeing women in nice shorts that come to somewhere between mid-thigh and above the knee is fine. But with very very few exceptions shorts don't belong in nice restaurants. And most women should never, ever wear shorts that hit higher than mid-thigh.

Letters

I had a wonderful day with my mother yesterday as we sorted through a couple of the many boxes of photos, letters, and newspaper clippings that my grandmother had accumulated in nearly ninety years on earth. Not only did she have letters that she had received, but also some that my great-grandparents had sent to each other when they were courting during 1907-09.

One of the treats was a stack of postcards from the early part of the 20th century that were mostly the communications of my great-grandmother's siblings to her. They lived in Fort Wayne and another town to the north, while my great-grandparents had remained in Magley, a little town about forty miles south of Fort Wayne. These were the written equivalent of a phone call, making plans for a visit the next Sunday, or sharing little bits of news.

The other letters that had us crying from laughing so hard were a number of letters written by my mother and grandfather to my grandmother--and her missiles in return--while she and my youngest aunt were on a trip to California in 1962 to visit my older aunt who was a Navy wife living in Oakland while her husband was at sea. She was gone for three weeks, and because long distance phone calls were still prohibitively expensive, all of the news and thoughts that they had during that time were written down.

What a treasure! This is the best insight I've ever had into my mom as a teen, before she was almost killed in an accident or was worn down by years of a dishonest and irresponsible husband. We laughed and laughed.
Her descriptions of the actions of my grandfather brought back so many happy memories.

We also found a bunch of letters that my little brother wrote to my grandparents when he was a kid. They were adorable!

Last night on the way home I started thinking about those letters, and the treasured letters that I have: letters from Colin when I was away at school; letters from my grandmothers, full of news about their gardens and what they're doing; postcards from my mom when I was in college; letters from Bethany at camp. These are all little insights into these people and I'm glad that I have them.

This has also made me determined to write more letters and encourage my children to do the same. It takes more thought to put news into words than it does to make a phone call. Email is impersonal and transitory.
Part of the magic of those old letters is seeing the handwriting, unique to each individual.

And think about the recipient. Getting the mail has become a chore. It's usually bills and a mountain of junk. Or some days it's just junk. Think of the little jolt of happiness that comes from seeing your name handwritten on an envelope that is obviously personal. If you write letters you might even get some back!

And of course the genealogist in me is screaming, "Write letters! Leave something of yourself for your great-great grandchildren to find."

One picnic, hold the ants

Mumme mom posts about picnics after reading this piece by John Rosemond.

We love picnics. Food of all kinds tastes better in the fresh air. Last year Colin's birthday and father's day gift was a fire pit that doubles as an outdoor table. We've eaten many meals on our patio in the last year.

We also have several big picnics every year. There's always one for Colin's company, and our extended family usually gets together at Mounds Park in Anderson at least once for a family picnic.
This is the old-fashioned, sit at picnic tables, play wiffle ball and frisbee, go for a walk in the woods, picnic. We also look forward to our church council picnic, when we get to hang out with our friends.

One of our favorite family traditions is our trip each year to the Symphony on the Prairie at Conner Prairie near Indianapolis. We take along lots of blankets for the family to sit on, my mom makes fried chicken and we all bring along the necessary foods to go with it: rolls and butter, potato salad, chips, grapes and cherries, cheese and crackers, carrots, celery, & radishes, cookies and brownies, and--if we're very good--my sister-in-law Kim brings chocolate covered strawberries.

Then we all sit back and listen to the wonderful music and wait for the fireworks. This is always a highlight of our summer. The first time Colin and I went was 21 years ago when I was pregnant with Bethany, and we've only missed it twice.

The kids and I enjoy impromptu picnics once in a while. Sometimes we make sandwiches and head to whatever park we're in the mood for. Sometimes we're already out and we'll grab Taco Bell or a hot dog and go eat at a park. Just last week my mom and I were lamenting the disappearance of roadside picnic tables. These used to be fairly common along state highways. There would be a safe spot to pull off the road and a picnic table. Once in a while there would be some other amenity like a pump for water or a trash can. We like to travel with a cooler and sandwiches, but often end up eating in the car because there often aren't good spots to stop.

When and where do you picnic?

Ballerinas, blue jeans and Barbie

Yesterday Principessa & I went to the ballet. We saw Cinderella performed by the Fort Wayne Ballet accompanied by the Fort Wayne Philharmonic. It was a lovely classic performance and the music was wonderful. The costumes were exquisite.

As Bethany and I walked in behind a mom and daughter in jeans with a granddaughter in play clothes, she whispered, "They didn't read your blog." I am happy to report that they were the exception. There were many little girls in their finery accompanied by moms, aunts, and grandmas also dressed for a special occasion. (We will ignore the teenage girl in a tie-dyed tee shirt and sweats. It is too painful to recall.)

The little girl in front of us was a hoot. There were lots of very excited little ones in attendance, but she may have been the most exuberant. She had a ballerina Barbie. In fact, she had a ballerina Barbie with a spinning light-up skirt. It was quite a sight. Especially when the ushers caught a glimpse of the light flashing from the spinning skirt and thought that they had discovered another contraband camera.

As we left, my 20 year old said, "Mommy, I want to be a ballerina."