On This Date: 36 Years Ago ...

July 2, 1983  Richie and I got married in the Methodist Church, 243 W. Broadway, Redondo Beach  Of note, their distinctive tower is still standing.

Richie and I dated for two years; never lived together and this was his proposal:  (talking to his parents on the usual Saturday night 5 p.m. here; 8 p.m. on Long Island where they lived  "Oh, I guess Neena ("The name's Nina!") I mentally snarled) and I will be getting married."

So we began discussing when this would occur.  I said, "August?"; he countered with, "No, July 4th weekend."  I said, "So you won't forget the anniversary?  Or you'll think that all of the fireworks are for you?"  He made no reply.  Draw your own conclusions...

Next came Religion.  Richie is a lapsed Catholic.  I am a lapsed Methodist (assuming there is such a thing.)  So I suggested a Justice of the Peace.  "No! No! I want a church!"  Since he didn't specify which church, I began to explore alternatives.  The first I visited had turned her living room into her office with two little church seats and a sort of podium.  It looked like the viewing room in a mortuary.

She kicked off with what she described as an old Indian prayer and off she went "I will walk in your moccasins..." I politely interrupted her and made my way to the door.  Got in my car, gunned the motor and peeled away.  I never tried another one.

I converted him to Methodism, telling him the truth - the Ms are very welcoming and would think nothing of marrying a former one to a Catholic.  The attitude is "Everyone is welcome." He went for it.

I sent out party invitations rather than a formal wedding invitation because at 43 and 42 the white dress and all seemed rather inappropriate.  However when they accepted the party invitation two-thirds of them wanted to come to the ceremony, too.  Happily I acquiesced after warning all and sundry that it would be a very brief event and probably boring.

May I say boldly, that it was anything but dull .. in no particular order...

*The morning of The Day, I am braced against the headboard staring gloomily at my feet, thinking, "What have I done? What have a done?" wild eyes looking at Richie  in front of the basin shaving and merrily singing, "I'm getting married in the morning..."  Loudly.  I scooched down deeper against the headboard.

*I  drove my parents and sister and her 18 month daughter to the church; Richie drove his brother and his wife and old family friend Dutch.  I got lost and had to beat my way back.  Despite the landmark tower rising above it all.

* I was so nervous that the minister gave me the license info to type up and distract myself.  I had told Richie that I have a nervous tic and tend to cry in church so he wrapped my small bouquet stems in half a box of Kleenex and glowed proudly.

* My sister preceded me down the aisle as did Richie's brother where they waited for my Dad to escort me down the aisle.  When asked "Who gives, etc?"  he replied, "Her mother and I do, I guess."

* I had stressed to the minister ( who BTW looked nicer than I did - he was wearing a white robe, a colorful stole with white patent leather loafers -he had a much bigger "do" down in Palm Springs after us) that I was outraged when, in his fervor (and haste - the PS thing) brought us another step on the dais.

*There he launched himself into an endless prayer and then began the taking of the vows.  Did anyone present have any information that would preclude this marriage? and Richie stepped forward, put his hand on his brow and looked searchingly out at the audience.  He got a big laugh

*By pre-design we omitted "obey."  When he (finally) pronounced us Man and Wife I turned and shook his hand!  He laughed indulgently and told Richie, "You may now kiss the bride," Richie grabbed me, threw me back as seen in old movies and planted one on.  Another big hand from all present.

* I had forgotten about being moved up another step and in my haste to get the hell out of there, took a great stride forward and went sailing out into the audience.  Happily I was co-ordinated enough to land on both feet.  A 10 for dismount, you might say.

*Known Catholics in that audience all reassured me that the service had been totally inoffensive to the Catholic faith.

With a final handshake for the minister (and my Dad slipping him a $50) we repaired to The Red Onion for an open bar, buffet, champagne for a toast, a live band and wedding cake (which I'd gotten at Ralph's supermarket.   A very good time was had by all.  Largely because Richie kept the bar open another hour.

And that's what happened July 2, 1983.