I wanted to share with you a picture of my grandparents on their wedding day, but I don't have that. So here they are on their 50th anniversary:
Limousines are for people who do not have firetrucks. I was eight years old at the time, and I thought being married for 50 years meant simply that you were old. I did not realize how much work it must be for any two people to be married for 50 years.
I don't know much about my grandparent's wedding, but I do know that my Grandmother bought her wedding dress herself from Saks 5th Avenue (and don't even suggest it came from Macy's.) I know that they were married for 62 years and that it wasn't easy. Neither of my grandparents were saints, but they were good people, with strong values, who loved each other very much. At the end of the day, they bickered quite a bit, and their marriage wasn't perfect. I can honestly say that even if we make it 60 years, we will probably still bicker about the right way to load the dishwasher or the proper way to treat the grandchildren. I can also honestly say that I hope our grandchildren don't come away from us thinking that our marriage is perfect just because we kept at it long enough. It's something that we all work at, every day. It was something my Grandmother fought hard to keep working for, even as she had trouble remembering what day it was, who we were, or where she lived.
Since this is a total bummer of a post and I don't know how to end it, let's end it with this picture of my grandma at our engagement party. Because no matter where you are, elderly women with piñatas are funny stuff: