On this night 50 years ago, I was preparing for my wedding the next day. I was barely two weeks past my 17th birthday.
What was on my mind that evening? No recollection. I know I wasn’t scared or sad – then and now, I’ve always been up for an adventure, and I’d been eager to get out of my parents’ house for at least a couple of years by that point. (They were good people, but I so desperately wanted independence.)
My memories of the weeks around the wedding are like snapshots more than anything. I remember a glimpse of this, a few seconds of that. It’s never big stuff I recall, just these quirky little bits that linger.
Me enjoying the fuss of all the big community bridal showers that a girl got when she married a Cumberland boy in those years. Cakes shaped and iced like a Barbie doll's ball gown. Me in the mirror for the first time in my wedding dress, appreciating its low cut. The purple everything in the honeymoon suite of the Port Augusta Motel.
Us splurging for two nights in the Bayshore Hotel in Vancouver for a honeymoon, strolling past the fur-coat stores and the fancy art and eating steak in Trader Vic’s. I’d never known such luxury. Me sitting topless at the little table in our oceanfront room, carefully colouring a new doodle art that my husband had gotten me.
I smoked back then, and if I’m being honest, one of the things that excited me most about getting married was that I would now be free to smoke whenever I wanted. It’s that kind of memory that brings home to me what a kid I was. Not one clue about the actual realities of being a wife - and soon enough, a mom. I was just thinking yay, now I get to smoke.
I suppose that marrying while still a child would seem like a hard start to adulthood to a lot of people. But was it? Looking back over the rich 50 years that I’ve had since then, what would I do differently? Who would I have been if I hadn’t been the girl making adult decisions at 17? How many of the amazing experiences that I’ve had were made possible because I was that girl?
I didn’t get to do that young-person-backpacking thing, and I admit that I probably would have loved that experience. I also have a very poignant memory of observing the teen scene in Penticton on one long-ago summer holiday with a baby on my hip, and feeling such longing to have had the chance to be the girl in the cool car cruising with all the boys, good tunes on the radio.
But 50 years on, I know that it all comes to you sooner or later anyway. Whatever you missed here, you’ll make up there. (OK, maybe not the Penticton teen scene. But you’ll get some version of being the cool, wild girl at some point in your life, if that’s what you want.)
Spoiler alert: The marriage won't work out for those children standing up together in Courtenay’s United Church on Jan. 5, 1974, Rev. Ray Brandon presiding. There will be no special anniversary cake, no gold mylar balloon in the shape of 50.
Though it’s not like divorce is the end of the story. We had children, and then they grew up and had children of their own. We are attached for a lifetime and beyond by those dear creatures who we both love without measure. My ex-husband is literally the only person in the world who loves my children with as much passion as I do. That is an unbreakable bond.
Tonight, 50 years ago. Did I have butterflies? Did I hang out with my besties, all of whom were in the wedding? Did I play 45s on the stereo in my room and celebrate my last night in the family home? If my mom were still alive, she’d recall every detail of it. “Oh, Jody, how can you not remember?” she’d scold.
Just two days ago, I remembered the sparkly blue dress that my mother wore to my wedding. Three years later, I’d wear it myself to a New Year’s Eve dance at the CRI Hall, when I was really pregnant. I danced so much that our daughter was born three weeks early.
Tomorrow, 50 years ago. The bridesmaids will wear royal blue, and the groomsmen will be in rented matching tuxes with that kind of flocked pattern that was popular in a wedding tux back then. There will be candles in the church, and my dad will have to work hard to hide his stricken look, though it shows up in some of the photos.
And just like that, I will be an adult. And it will all turn out OK.
3 comments:
Amazing writing Jody! Thank you and congratulations. Yes, we all have s few doozies of stories to tell eh? I love how you told this story. Wouldn't it be fun to collect a whole bunch of these snippets and put them together in a compilation that could possibly grab and hold on the attention span of our present day child Goddesses? We had such freedom to be experimenting all sorts of things back in the day...
what a wonderful story. thank you. Brings back memories. Penticton in the summer in those days were so fun. It wasn't unusual for 17 yr old girls to get married in that time. Knew 4 who did. Loved your line about a Cumberland boy. Moved to Comox in 2000 and found the auction house in Cumberland. Dave and Kathy who owned the auction house, had a couple of boys working there friday nights and Sat. morning. One day one of them said something, something along the lines of playing paint ball with real guns. My response was, what? Their response was, "we're Cumberland boys". Cumberland was different. Some years later the sibling and I attended a wedding in Cumberland. It was wonderful. Some one asked the sibling which side were we on. Response, neither. They looked at her like what.
Did not know you came from Cumberland. I learnt quite a bit about the history of the town and some of the stories are amazing.
Port Augusta is still in Comox and the Bayshore during those years was "the" place to stay. Trader Vics had great steaks and drinks.
Thank you for sharing this. Over at the Pacific Gazetteer, Ross K. is writing about the guess who in the late 60s and early 70s. Your post complements it, a real walk through life during those times.
Great Picture.
Lovely and honest observations Jody. Marrying to be free to smoke. Beauty! You hold the past so well.
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