Friday, September 29, 2006
Hello young lovers
They met when she was sixteen and he, twenty-one. In three short years they married. She loved to dance; he was not very good at it. Years later, he laughed when his daughter called him on to the dance floor for her wedding. His wedding was a three-day affair. Polish weddings were like that. Ever the prankster, he pretended to fall coming down the church steps. In truth, he had fallen hard for her ... love at first sight according to her girlfriend. She was supposed to date his older brother. She chose him instead. He considered himself a lucky man.
They both were children of immigrants who settled in the same section of town. As first-generation Americans they spoke English but were equally at home speaking Polish. He was a banjo man; making music came naturally to him. He was also an auto-body welder, earning a steady paycheck at one company for 40 years. He was as loyal to the company as he was loyal to his wife.
I think that's what I loved most about my parents - their faithfulness to each other. They were married almost 50 years before my Dad died. When he died suddenly, my best friend remarked: "That was the only irresponsible thing your Dad ever did."
He was a good man, a simple man. He had his values in place. She was the woman he loved from the moment he saw her. He never wavered.
Do you remember the parable in the Bible where the kingdom of heaven is compared to a wedding feast? I picture all my relatives who have passed on at this wedding, dancing in a circle. The aunts, uncles, cousins who may have feuded in life are all dancing together and so, so happy. And my Dad no longer has two left feet. He and my Mom are out there in the middle of the circle in each other's arms, the bridal couple of course.