They say the preparations for a big wedding are all part of ‘the dance’, the bonding process; and I think a similar unity came into play for our 30th anniversary party. Let me get one thing straight immediately: we are not the partying type.
Since our 25th we’ve regularly celebrated with a trip to Scotland but this year we’re both going there in May so organising the travelling, not to mention the expense, all seemed a bit much. Besides, our garden is always at its best in April, with daffodils and primroses, tulips and blossom. Our friends and relatives should see it at its best . . . so we planned an open day: a garden party.
The invitations went out at Christmas saying, ‘Put it in your diary’; ‘Bring a folding chair’; and ‘With our collective positive thinking the sun will shine!’
Fat chance, it seemed, when the cold wind continued blowing and the daffodils remained little more than green spikes to within a week before. But then the sun warmed up and so did the soil.
Out of nearly 80 people invited it seemed nearly 50 would come, rain or shine.
Was I mad? 30 years marriage to a one-time autocrat, punctuated with some near bust-ups has made me assertive: “If you turn the house upside down or get pedantic, I won’t do it,” I said, “they’ll take us as they find us.” And, “If you get the hump, I’ll cancel,” I threatened. Then, “Stop your sarcasm!” I ordered when I’d got better things to do, and, “Chill out!” when temperatures began to rise.
Food on the table, drinks on another, flowers everywhere and the grass freshly mown, the arrival of the ‘children’ and grandchildren heralded the beginning and they all mucked in to help. There was immediate interest in the storyboard I’d created from photos depicting ‘Our Lives Together’ with a brief but honest commentary.
Then at 1pm on the day, the guests began to drift in. My sisters, Rod’s brothers, friends from the pub, our neighbours, Rod’s climbing mates, my ex-colleagues, old school friends and more: everyone mixed and chatted. There were no barriers, no formalities, no speeches, no accidents . . .
The things that made it really special were:
* Relatives I’d not seen for years travelled hundreds of miles just for the afternoon’s celebration.
* People from all walks of life mixed in the most unlikely way – publicans with artists, computer buffs with ‘dinosaurs’.
* Nearly everyone wore warm clothes and sat happily outside making space to get at the food and storyboard indoors.
* My son's work in preparing the whole afternoon's music on computer in advance, playing it; and then giving us a live guitar rendition at the end.
* My daughter telling me, as she left, that I’d looked calm and happy all day.
* Nearly everyone signed our Visitors’ Book: a memento we intend to keep and perpetuate when we relocate to distant lands.
Our collective positive thinking worked!
Me? I enjoyed the day – the whole weekend – more than our wedding day 30 years ago. Love fuels love and when it seems to have depleted I recommend you pretend it’s still there, because it grows. The challenge, of course, awaits us with the next 30 years.
© Bernie Ross 2006
