Looking for love in the Sunday newspaper

I love to read the Celebrations page in the Sunday newspaper. I’m a romantic at heart and I love the perfect young women in their incredible white wedding gowns as well as the imposed stuffiness and strain on the English language of sentences like:
The former Miss Jane Doe was begowned in a vintage fashion first worn by her maternal grandmother Winifred Rose Harthington nee Plunkett and crowned with a fingertip veil accented with mother of pearl.
This is all fascinating information for a writer and I put a whole story to it in my mind, Grandma Winny’s dress not being the bride’s first choice and the mother of pearl veil thrown in to sweeten the pot, so to speak, and ultimately being perfect.
I have a certain fascination with those weddings, where there is
great seriousness about the bride’s choice of lace and flowers. Where the fate of the world seems to hinge on the total unexceptability of tea length gowns. And theme colors can truly make or break the day.
Words of wisdom that I often share ad nauseam whenever an occasion arrives is that weddings and funerals are the most vulnerable times for families, the wrong words spoken will be remembered for a lifetime. For all the elegant centerpieces and tasteful tulle, the relationships at these events can be very sobering indeed.
The big white wedding never happened for me. My first husband and I married in the judge’s chambers on our lunch break.
The bride wore brown slacks and a brown and black print shirt that still hangs at the back of her closet somewhere.
Then, when I married Bill in 2001 I was a widow and a bit past the age when one could really carry off the great white dress and all that tulle. But I had a nice blue dress and a cute hat, a few friends and family and Mexican food. It was perfect for us.
Still, I love weddings and enjoy reading about them.
But it’s the other part of the Celebrations page that truly draws me in. The older couples with their landmark anniversaries, 50, 60 something even 70 years of married life. I love those announcements.
My mom’s parents made it past 60 years. My dad’s parents made it to 72 years. My parents were married for 57 years. That’s big.
From all directions we hear how few marriages actually make it, how hard it is to stick together and how nearly impossible it is for people remain in love for the long haul.
Some people say that couples don’t try hard enough. That they give up at the first sign of trouble. But that can’t be true. There are whole sections in bookstores about keeping marriages together. People buy those books! And they don’t buy them to sit on the coffee table for their friends to see.
I think most people who get married, whether in a fancy white dress or brown slacks, really really try to make it work. Sometimes it just can’t. One person may just completely go zonkers. Both people may drift apart. There can be unforeseen obstacles that make compromise impossible. Or day to day annoyances that just wear love out.
But oh, those that make it, they do make me smile. I especially love the wedding picture next to the current photo. It sort of a BEFORE and AFTER that implies: This is what 60 years of wedded bliss will do to you. (ha!)
The lists of children and grandchildren is an absolute requirement. I wondered for a while if couples without children didn’t live as long. But the real deal, I think, is that without children, nobody thinks to put your picture in the paper.
Occasionally the bride or groom will attempt to answer the secret of their years together. I always try to make note of what they say, because it’s important information you can’t get anywhere else.
Over the years I’ve been reading these, all advice boils down to two necessary requirements: A sense of humor. And mutual respect.
Maybe we should write those two traits on elegant white cards in fancy calligraphy and send them as wedding gifts. In the long run, they’ll do a lot more for the marriage than a blender.