A mere 25 years ago today, on a hot and humid Saturday afternoon we were married in the Unitarian-Universalist Church of Bloomington, Indiana. Not a big affair, not a fancy affair either, but the wedding was performed by our minister, Laurel, who used a lovely ceremonial script we were comfortable with.
My sister was my matron of honor, my other sister was a bridesmaid, as was a good friend. My husband asked his father to be his best man. His brother and a friend who he'd known since high school were his groomsmen.
Music was provided by a co-worker who played the piano. Our wedding photos were taken by another co-worker. My aunt's sorority catered the cake and punch at the reception at the church. Did I mention my husband and I paid for our own wedding? Hence, everyone pitching in for us.
Prior to our wedding day, when we were engaged, we travelled to Atlanta en route to New Orleans. The husband met my college roommate. Over a pitcher of sangria in one of our old college day haunts, she told me, "Well, Karen, if you marry this guy, your life will never be boring." Oddly enough, our son was born on her birthday.
And, her prediction was spot on.