By noon 29 years ago today I had begun to feel the heat. By 4 p.m. I was sweatin’ bullets.
Yeah, it’s my wedding anniversary today and while June 12, 1982, was hot, it wasn’t the reason I was sweating.
After I got the proposal part out of the way the previous year, I was cool as a cucumber. All that wedding stuff wasn’t my responsibility at that point. My responsibility was to respond quickly to what the women in my life requested of me. Schedule time off for the honeymoon, get measured for the tuxedo, get to the rehearsal on time, get to the church on time.
I had a little trouble with one of those last two tasks and thought for a while I might blow the other one.
My easy cruise through the premarital portion of my engagement ended on the night of the rehearsal when I arrived at the restaurant for the rehearsal dinner without my bride-to-be. I don’t know why no one bothered to tell me the future Mrs. Terry wasn’t going to catch a ride with on of her many relatives in town for the ceremony. After all they had been with her all day while I was at work.
When we arrived at the restaurant, together, we were able to make a grand entrance. Unfortunately, the wedding party was beginning to get hungry and had lost their good humor. What I didn’t know about my future life was that it was the first of many times I would be late for a function. It was however, the last time it was my fault.
I had, at various loved ones request, taken the full day off on the wedding day as did my father. He was missing wheat season and I was absent on the biggest day of the week in the pressroom at the newspaper. Neither of us liked the timing.
I told those I left to make the press runs that day to start early with full rolls on the stands and they would be alright on their own. They got me out of bed a little before 7:30 a.m. At least they started out following my advice.
I got the first run off and we were working on the second one when my family, present and future, realized I was at work on my wedding day and I began getting phone calls. Working on that stubborn old newspaper press was keeping my mind off getting hitched, but ink under the groom’s fingernails wasn’t on the day’s plan so I went home and the butterflies arrived at the same time.
Man was it ever hot in the back of that church in that tight-necked tuxedo. Before my beautiful bride appeared down the aisle I had developed the worst case of cotton-mouth ever.
Somehow the vows I had to say came out right, of course with her dad doing the marrying it wouldn’t have mattered if I’d of recited “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” I was going to be married when I left the church.
No regrets from me whatsoever. I married my soulmate. She loves me, looks out for me, worries about me and she’s learned, I don’t always come home from work when I should.