“I have some news,” our 32-year-old son David announced to my husband Andy and me on a weekend visit to our home. “I’m going to propose to Lindsey.”
“Why are you proposing?” I asked, a little too abruptly. “I thought you two already discussed getting married.”
“We have,” David said. “But I’ve purchased a ring, and I’m going to get down on my knee and formally ask her to marry me.”
Andy suddenly chimed in. “Really? You’re going to go through all that?”
David replied, laughing, “I thought you guys would be happy with the news.”
We assured him that we adored Lindsey and were indeed happy with the announcement, but given our countercultural perspective on weddings, we were thrown off a little by the formality around the marriage proposal. I then began to reflect on our own offbeat betrothal.
My own wedding was very low-key
It was the early 1980s. Andy was a leftist sociologist, and I was a committed feminist. After cohabiting for four years, we decided to get hitched. The motivation was an upcoming visit to my parents at their recently purchased Florida condo.
If we remained unmarried, how would my parents introduce Andy to their new Florida friends? “This is Rose’s partner? Significant other? Paramour?” We weren’t sure how those options would sound to the Florida set, so we decided to tie the knot. Besides, we knew we would eventually marry anyway when we decided to have kids, and what could be a better time for a wedding than the dead of winter in Upstate New York?
Because we knew nothing about the process, we obtained a brochure from City Hall titled “Steps to Get Married.” First, we needed blood tests to screen for syphilis, which was still required in New York State in 1984.
When we were certified “syph free,” we returned to City Hall to sign the license, and I was gifted a package prepared for all new brides. It contained cleaning supplies, beauty items, and feminine hygiene products, including a bottle of iridescent blue douche.
The ceremony was held in the judge’s chambers. Before the vows were recited, the judge inquired, “The rings?” We had no rings — it wasn’t mentioned in the brochure, and it had never occurred to us. The ceremony proceeded. The following day we were on our honeymoon to visit my parents in their new Florida home.
My son’s wedding was much more detailed
Our journey in David and Lindsey’s wedding preparations would play out a little differently.
After they were engaged, wedding planning immediately kicked off, with the bride and groom creating multiple spreadsheets, assembling thick binders of wedding materials, establishing a website and registry, and scheduling Zoom meetings with potential vendors. At this point, Andy and I vowed to make a concerted effort to transform our mentality, put our judgmental attitudes aside, and completely support their very traditional plans.
Since they were so organized and seemed to have everything covered, Andy and I were focused on getting our own wedding apparel. I was particularly anxious about this because I lacked experience purchasing formal attire and didn’t want to screw it up.
Finding an outfit was anxiety-inducing
After conferring with friends, two shops were identified. I arrived at Shop One and was paired with a 20-something salesperson. At one point, as I was trying on a dress, she had to call over another salesperson to assist her in zippering it up over my boobs. She then said, “You’re probably not wearing your best bra.”
Although I kind of was, because I knew I was going dress shopping that day, I responded, “Oh no, definitely not my best.”
I left the shop and panicked. Would I ever find a suitable dress?
After recovering from the humiliating Shop One experience, I went to Shop Two. The 60-something proprietor was much more familiar with dealing with mothers of grooms, including those with ill-fitting bras. She selected a few dresses that all looked fabulous. The chosen dress was an iridescent blue, weirdly similar in color to the douche I was given at City Hall back when I was a bride.
The dress shopping was followed by decisions about shapewear, a modern version of girdles from my mom’s generation, now pushed by the Kardashians and other trustworthy sources. I hadn’t considered shapewear before hearing Lindsey and her mom discuss the undergarments.
As with all important decisions in my life, I turned to book club members for expert advice. I texted: “Anyone have experience with shapewear?”
The gals quickly responded. They confided that it’s essential to get that flawless no-line look. So a few days later, I was in a Macy’s dressing room, squeezing myself into a spandex casing and compressing my internal organs to achieve that oh-so-smooth result.
The resulting lack of oxygen induced a hallucination. Standing before me was my former college professor, Betty Friedan — the activist who helped spark the women’s movement in the 1970s. She was shaking her head and frowning at me. I ditched the shapewear right then and there.
Andy’s shopping experience was a bit more laid-back. He selected the first suit he tried on and never considered shapewear. After one fitting, he was good to go.
Even though my son and I had different wedding styles, I loved celebrating with him
The following months involved lots of anxiety, decision-making, and festivities. We participated in family meetings; attended the bridal shower; organized an engagement party; conferred on the guest list, seating plan, ceremony, menu, music, and décor; prepared speeches; hosted a rehearsal dinner; and wrote a handsome check.
The day finally arrived and was absolutely perfect. Although elaborate wedding receptions aren’t my thing, I actually had a great time. There were many heartwarming moments, lots of laughter, scrumptious food, and a rockin’ DJ.
And while their thoughtful and well-executed celebration was quite a departure from our more spontaneous and haphazard approach, I only hope David and Lindsey have as long-lasting and loving a marriage as Andy and I have had over 40 years.
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