Love at 119 pounds: How my mom and dad stayed married
My mom didn’t lie to him often in their 34 years together.
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We panicked when my dad found a scale, tucked away at the bottom of a closet. He stepped on it and waited for the number to settle. 119 pounds.
“I must weigh less than you,’’ he said, looking at me. It was true, but the truth wasn’t a priority right then and there.
“It’s broken,’’ my mom said. “Way off.’’
My mom didn’t lie to him often in their 34 years together. Maybe it’s why their marriage lasted so long. As we watched his health deteriorate in the next few months–pancreatic cancer is a mean disease–I thought a lot about my parents’ relationship. More simply, I wondered if my mom thought about cancer when she walked down the aisle.
When I was a kid, I used to ask my mom about her wedding day. What flowers did you have? What kind of cake? Did you write vows? Her typical answer was, “I don’t remember.’’ Similarly, she couldn’t seem to recall how she got engaged. “It doesn’t matter,’’ she’d say.
She meant it. To her, her wedding day was just a blip in time, a small celebration of a much bigger commitment. When she exchanged rings in a hall in Brighton, she didn’t think she had just achieved her life’s greatest dream. She felt like it was just about to begin.
With wedding season in full swing, I’ve been thinking lately about what it means to get married more and more.
I’ve been to many weddings in the last few years and noticed that a lot of brides seem relieved, as if the wedding is the conclusion to something. Guests even congratulate the couple on the day as if it’s the apex. It all came together. The planning was all worth it. A dream come true.
I wonder why we focus on making one day perfect when life is so long and complex.
And why a couple is often measured by the “success’’ of the day. With so many days ahead in a marriage – many difficult and not acutely fine-tuned – why not prepare for the journey more honestly?
My parents’ 1977 wedding was a six-hour affair. Close friends and family showed up in their butterfly collars and platforms, threw rice, drank too much, and went home. My parents left for their honeymoon the next day. Photos of them leaving the reception in polyester pantsuits show an incredibly happy couple.
A recent wedding I attended lasted three days and involved an itinerary with both pre-wedding cocktails and post-wedding brunch. The wedding was the sandwich meat. It seemed more about entertaining me and the other guests than kicking off matrimonial bliss.
For my parents’ 25th anniversary, my mom got a washing machine. It didn’t have a big red bow on it. I don’t think it was a surprise. They probably went to Home Depot and picked it out together so they could have clean, fresh laundry.
Today, we solicit loved ones to buy wedding gifts that have virtually no correlation to the success of a marriage. What we celebrate is a betrothal to consumerism.
I scan registries full of items like quesadilla makers, shrimp forks, banana slicers, snow-cone machines, camping tents, massage chairs, Big Mouth Billy Basses, and soup tureens.
My mom looked for a wedding dress in the Want Advertiser. If you don’t know what that is, think of a newspaper version of Craigslist.
She eventually found a new one well within her budget and she liked it just fine. I recently watched a few episodes of Say Yes to the Dress, a show following brides looking for a wedding dress. Many arrived with an “entourage,’’ purchased two gowns – one for the ceremony and one for the reception – and spent upwards of $10,000.
Did that dress make those brides feel more loved? Did it help prepare them for the nuances of a life with another human being?
I’m not saying that all weddings are overly extravagant or silly. I’m also not saying that everyone should spend their wedding day like my parents. But when I think about their day, it makes me wish we’d all place more of an emphasis on the years ahead because we never know what they’ll bring.
My dad died almost four years ago. I still think about the little lie my mom told him that day he stepped on the scale. We are all capable of dishonesty from time to time. But the lies that seem to pervade modern weddings are troubling. For me, putting a tremendous emphasis on just one day would be dishonest. It would undermine the future. Every single day of a marriage matters – not just the first.
Each is part of the textile that builds a couple’s character. To me, facing that truth is more romantic, more beautiful than any orchid arrangement, chocolate fountain, or strategic releasing of doves.
I can’t be sure, but I doubt my mom envisioned my dad dying when she walked down the aisle. That would be morbid, even for the most practical, sturdy human being. But I can be sure that when she looked at him when he weighed 119 pounds, she saw the same exact man she married 34 years earlier.
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