nearly 20 years ago, sir os and i went to one of those semi-required church-institution picnics where people tend to be concerned with coming across well and so things feel just a tad stuffy even in the open air. i wandered off to get some more food and eventually came back to our table.
something had clearly happened in those few moments; sir os was his usual laid-back deadpan self but the rest of the group were a spectrum of unusual cheek colors and some were hiding their faces and gasping into their sodas with either shock or mirth.
what happened? i demanded but no one would quite look me in the eye, even our friends; they just continued to choke and splutter.
after a bit, sir os reached forward and pushed a plastic cup on the picnic table towards me. a kid had apparently taken a bite out of a huge grilled sausage, not liked it and disposed of it in the cup.
the effect was startling.
sir os said with his giveaway glint, ‘i just commented that it looks like someone needed a good stiff drink.’
i didn’t share the inhibitions of the rest of the table; i howled with laughter, a regular occurrence in my life with this man. he keeps me in stitches.
so, today:
this morning we slept until nearly 9:00 after a wonderful but exhausting weekend.
after a few groggy moments trying to mobilize my waking wits, i said, ‘well, let’s get up and go get a stiff drink…’ exactly as sir os flung off the quilt to share, well, hope this isn't too crass, a stiff drink. i howled, like i did all those years ago, laughing till limp and breathless.
his sense of timing is still impeccable. today, the 1st of June, is the 38th anniversary of the day that he came to pick me up at lunchtime.
he was building a house with a contractor friend; i was a setup mechanic in a motorcycle shop. neither of us smelled particularly good as it was hot and humid in our southern state and we’d already put in most of our hours for the day. i was definitely the dirtier; clothes streaked with grease and with hands that couldn’t be washed clean and had permanent dark crescents under the nails.
we ate a peanut butter sandwich in the car as we drove into the county seat and parked at the county courthouse. we went up the creaking old stairs to the county clerk’s office and asked for a marriage license. she handed the document to us, assuming we wanted to take it to the clergy person officiating at our wedding.
we shook our heads; no, we want to be legally married now.
as unlikely a pair as we must have looked, still, there was nothing but courtesy extended to us. folks doing research in the documents room were politely herded out while the clerk took us in for the ‘ceremony.’ they stood beaming at the door and applauded and congratulated us as we emerged a few minutes later. we thanked them, and went back to our jobs, not saying a word to our coworkers about our lunch break.
from our perspective, this was just the next step to get the process going on my green card and our real wedding was scheduled for several months down the road. we didn’t live together or consider ourselves really married yet; only our respective housemates knew about it.
and yet, there was a very sweet change in the air between us. this was now the countdown for the launch of our lives and all that we hoped for in our partnership. we carefully crafted vows that resonated for us (they still do). we planned our wedding ceremony to make it reflect our commitment to simplicity and working to make the world around us a more peaceful and just place.