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Add your
anniversary
story to
this site!
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Before & After:
Revitalize the special wedding and family photos in your life that are NEARLY framable.
For example, get rid of your annoying Uncle Chuck from the sidelines in that otherwise great wedding reception photo! Or change the backdrop of your first wedding dance to romantic scenery.
Clear up crackles and spots on your parents' old wedding photo, and then give them a lovely personalized gold frame gift for their 50th anniversary.
To see photo retouching >> |
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Just
Look at US!
by
Christine
Lon and I
were unconventional individuals, to say the least, and as a couple
we were a team to reckon with. We had long since decided that
we were destined to be best friends, and our chemistry was a once
in a lifetime find for us both. We’d lived together for
five years, both a little afraid to make the next move, since
we had both failed at marriage before. Finally, when the mundane
things like health insurance and life insurance benefits began
to intrude on our altruistic declaration that we didn’t
need papers to be married, we began to talk seriously about the
financial aspects and the need to secure a future for my children
and the one we’d had together. True to our sixties roots,
we had avoided what we both saw as “establishment controls”
and believed strongly that we had made our commitments from the
heart and didn’t need government approval for that. Still,
the realities of the eighties were knocking on our consciences
and logic dictated that we grow up. We’d talk about it and
both agree that we really should just go to the “justice
of the peace” one of these days, as Lon said, “and
make you an honest woman.” We just never seemed to quite
get around to doing it.
One Saturday,
Lon called me from work, and when I answered the phone, he said,
“Hey, I think we should get married, what do you say?”
I laughed, I thought he was kidding around. I played along with
the joke, and said, “SURE! Why not?” His voice on
the phone got very serious. He said, “I mean it. Will you
marry me? I been tryin’ to get up the nerve to ask for a
week, but I keep backin’ out. Just say yes or no.”
I said, “YES!” He said, “WHEW! I just knew you
were gonna tell me how marryin’ would mess up what we have.
How about two weeks from today, is that enough time?” I
have no idea what prompted me to agree to that, but I did. Two
weeks to plan a wedding?
Lon was a
cop. Before that, we had been truck drivers and drove as a team.
Our friends were a mix of truck drivers, cops, musicians and bikers.
Oh, and two State Senators, all three local county commissioners,
and two ministers - a fairly interesting mixture of people, to
say the least. My family were Arkansas mountain people, carpenters,
and welders. His were Phoenix golf pros and engineers. The planning
of this wedding was an exercise in balancing. Trying to please
everyone and doing so within my fairly limited budget became a
colossal headache. Finally, one of my friends told me, “Just
do whatever makes you happy and whatever YOU will enjoy. If the
guests like it, too, great. If they don’t, oh well. You
can’t please this whole group. It isn’t possible.”
I decided she was right.
This was
truly a redneck wedding. We did the ceremony in our own back yard
in the rose garden before about 40 of our friends and family,
which included the bulk of Lon’s country band, for which
he was the lead singer. Despite the flippant way we had arrived
at this wedding day and the light-hearted way we had both approached
it, when we spoke our vows, written especially for us by our favorite
minister, I looked into Lon’s eyes and saw a tears falling.
This was a big bulky country man, tough as a boot. He was opening
the last little bit of his heart to me. Like a flash, it hit me.
This was no game. We were pledging ourselves to one another before
God, and we both meant every word we were saying. The awe almost
overwhelmed me. This was my soul mate. The one person on the earth
who could know me absolutely, totally, and whom I could trust
completely. By the time we had both finished repeating our vows,
there wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd, least of all ours.
After the
ceremony was complete and some gifts were opened, Lon and the
band played for the guests who danced on the deck and patio. He
even donned his “wireless rig”, a microphone without
wires, so that he could dance with me while singing. One of those
songs was Vince Gill, “Look At Us”, dedicated to me
and sung in his deep voice next to my ear as he danced with me
held up close. I remember thinking that perfection was definitely
worth waiting for. We roasted a pig, tapped a keg, and the last
of the guests left at about 2am. It was a great day, capped by
a long ride on a friend’s Harley, me tucked spoon style
against his back, riding the curves of a beautiful mountain road.
By the time we got to the hotel, it was nearly daylight. We slept,
ate a late breakfast, and rode back to our home, both having to
go to work on Monday. The first time I signed “Mrs”,
on a registration form at the hotel, I felt like I had lived thirty-five
years and had just now realized where I belonged. They say practice
makes perfect, and that the best things are worth waiting for.
They are RIGHT!
A year later,
our anniversary was approaching. The friend who had loaned us
his Harley had sold it to us later. As we got ready to go for
a short road trip, about two weeks before our anniversary, Lon
mentioned that the “guys” were wondering if we were
going to recreate the wedding party again to celebrate. We talked
about it all day and decided it would be the perfect commemoration.
Again, we sent out the invitations, roasted the pig, tapped the
keg, and had a great time with several bands, all friends of ours,
taking turns in jam session fashion. Again, I danced with my ear
close to Lon’s cheek so that I could not only hear but feel
his deep voice as he sang 'my' song, “Look At Us”.
At 2am, Lon and I took the bike and rode about fifty miles to
the same little hotel in the mountains. This time, we stayed three
days, enjoying the hummingbirds and the peace of the lodge. It
was such a great weekend that we decided to make it a tradition.
For the next
fifteen years, we held the annual K-Bar-C Country Music Jam and
Pig Roast to commemorate our wedding day. It grew every year,
and the last year, the guest book was signed by 132 people. We
left every year at 2am, and rode that same mountain road to that
same little hotel/lodge. It became a ritual.
I have never
known two people more in tune with one another or meant to be
together. Lon has been gone now for a while, but I still have
the Jam and Pig Roast every year. Now, his sons are the cooks
and one of them is the lead singer. He looks a lot like his Dad
and sounds just like him. I am always thankful for the sixteen
years we had together. But on that special weekend, I say an extra
little prayer of thanks. Some people search for a lifetime to
find what we stumbled into together. I will always celebrate that.
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