Thursday, November 24, 2022

Happy Anniversary to The Beloved Spouse


Today The Beloved Spouse™ and I celebrate our thirteenth wedding anniversary. We were actually married November 27, 2009, the day after Thanksgiving. (Certainly not Black Friday for us.) We were both working then, and my parents came for the holiday. We had them, the Sole Heir, and the future Sole Son-in-Law available, so we rounded everyone up on a day no one had anything planned. We knew we’d be off work the day after Thanksgiving forever, so we stuck with that as the day of celebration.


No one knew we had this planned. My parents routinely spent Thanksgiving with us, and we told TSH we had a surprise for them she’d enjoy seeing. The celebrant arrived mid-afternoon, dressed in medieval garb, and asked if anyone wanted to get married. TBS and I looked at each other and said we had a box of marriage stuff in the basement, we’d get it. The box contained

·       T-shirts for everyone, labeled Bride, Groom, Father, Mother, and Daughter. (We didn’t know Zack was coming or we’d have had one for him.)

·       Heads on sticks of my brother’s family (and their dog), plus two close friends who we knew would appreciate the event and intent.

·       Our vows (aka Wedding Script), which leaned heavily on Monty Python and the Holy Grail and appear in their entirety below.


HEATHER (celebrant)


Dearly beloved,


I know this was unexpected, so I will be brief.


(Allow scroll to fall open. It’s about four feet long.)


We are gathered here today on this not quite so solemn as some might have it occasion because when one heart exhibits migratory behavior toward another, it’s a force of nature, and not a question of where it grips it. Corky and Dana have married before. The marriages fell over and sank into the swamp. They tried again. Those marriages burned down, fell over, and sank into the swamp. So here they are, having learned from experience and lived as married in all but name (nudge, nudge, say no more) to build the strongest marriage in all the kingdom.



Now, to make things legitimate, please recite the vows each of you has chosen especially for each other to mark this solemn occasion.




I, Corky, take you, Dana, as my lawfully wedded husband. I promise to at least consider bringing a lasagna when coming from the basement, and not to turn you into a newt, even though you’re sure to get better. I pledge not to undertake, nor even to suggest, any home improvement projects for at least one year, unless I think of a really good one. Maybe a shrubbery. One that looks nice. Not too expensive. Maybe two of them, place one slightly higher, so you get a two-level effect with a path through the middle. I shall feed the squirrels only in times of most dire famine, to prevent them growing into the most foul-tempered rodents you ever laid eyes on, with big, pointy teeth that will do you a treat.




I, Dana, take you, Corky, as my lawfully wedded wife, in this ceremony crafted to our own particular—uh—uh—








Idiom, to share in my great tracts of land in a very real, and legally binding sense. I promise never to make you live in a self-perpetuating autocracy, but in a an anarco-syndicalist commune. We shall take it in turns to be a sort of executive officer for the week, but all the decisions of that officer have to be ratified at a special bi-weekly meeting. Soft dirt shall not tempt me, even when I find unidentified and previously unannounced vegetables in my dinner, and I shall not say “Ni!” to you unless strenuously provoked.





The rings, please.




I give you this ring as a symbol of my love for you. Wear it and think of me and know that I will always love you.




And now, to symbolize the coming together of these two hearts, and to culminate this eccentric performance, the rings shall be placed on each other’s fingers simultaneously. Corky, Dana, clasp the rings in your right hands, and extend the fourth finger of the left. Place the rings on your new spouse’s finger when I am at the count of three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number counted, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt I not count, neither count two, excepting then that I proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number of three, being the third number, be reached, then slide the ring onto the waiting finger of your beloved’s hand to consummate the marriage as much as can be done in a public setting.










No, Three!






(DANA and CORKY slide rings on.)


And now shalt we go forth to feast upon the lambs and sloths, and carp and anchovies, and orangutans and breakfast cereals, and fruit-bats and large—




Skip down a bit.




Ummm, yes, right here.


What has been joined here today let no man put asunder, lest the Lord blow him to tiny bits, in His mercy. You may kiss the bride.


So here we are, thirteen years later. (Give or take a day or so.) I have never been happier, nor do I expect to be, though I’d get over it if the Pirates won one more World Series before I shuffle off my mortal coil.



1 comment:

Kingstone said...

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