Fortieth Anniversary

For those of you who have the pleasure of knowing my parents, these two photos speak a thousand words.  (Or, I guess, two thousand words.)  My mom and dad celebrated 40 years of marriage on September 8th of this year.  That's quite the milestone:  one that deserves to be recognised by a wider audience than their immediate family.  Forty years ago they married at a small chapel in Toronto.  My dad wore a borrowed suit; his thighs were still over-developed from bike riding in Europe and the pants were a little confining.  My mom wore a white eyelet dress that she had sewn herself which later became the material for my older sister's First Communion gown.  She picked daisies at the side of a set of tracks for her bouquet.  Dad's hair was almost shoulder-length and mom's was to her waist, parted in the middle and worn long and straight.  As young children we giggled when looking through their wedding album at the one picture of our parents kissing, dad's long hair obscuring mom's face.

Their guest list was small:  close friends, immediate family and lots of Madonna House connections.  My dad's only family to attend were his cousin Jeremy/Jem and her family.  Jem (my mother's best friend and she who had originally set up the couple) also served as maid of honour.  Overseas flights were far too pricey for the English family to attend.  After the wedding they were dropped off by Fr. Francis Martin at an Ontario river to begin their honeymoon:  camping in September with a canoe christened Nick and Julie.

As a surprise, my sisters and I decided that we should fete them in an appropriate style:  understated and intimate.  My older sister was unable to attend (Texas is too far for a party); but my younger sister who lives in Halifax was able to arrange for a blessing after Sunday mass at their home parish.  We drove to Halifax from the beachhouse under the guise of shopping in the big city and showing the kids some of the highlights of my hometown.

Thus, when we arrived four hours after mom, dad, my sister and the twins had pulled in from the beachhouse, my parents were a little confused to be presented with flowers for their anniversary.  Not to mention that we were three weeks early.  So surprised were they that I began to wonder if I had counted incorrectly:  "Oh shoot, they've been married 39 years.  Next year is 40.  I really screwed up.  But my older sister is turning 39..."  I quickly realised that my math was correct and passed them a bouquet, a cake and a reservation for supper at their favourite restaurant.  The bouquet was specially chosen to represent their marriage and its fruit:  the hydrangeas are my mom and dad, the three roses are  their three daughters, the two daisy-like flowers are their sons-in-law, the three snap dragons are their granddaughters and the six spiky flowers (chosen for their masculine look) are the six grandsons.  A beautiful bouquet, isn't it?

The cake (gluten-free!) was a King Olaf cake from Scanway Bakery in Halifax:  a sort of mousse with a twist of Grand Marnier and a chocolate ganache icing.  The sort of cake of which one can only eat a very little piece.

The next day we did, in fact, tour many of the highlights of my hometown:  Point Pleasant Park, the waterfront and the Public Gardens.  The above is the duck pond at the Gardens.  The three boys repeatedly ran at top speed to the edge of the pond only to stop with millimetres to spare.

The best photo of the bunch.

Isaac, in the background, was fascinated by the pigeons (of which we have none in Barry's Bay).  He kept running after them, flapping his arms and yelling, "Birds!  Birds!"  Joe - well, Joe was Joe.

Requisite grandstand photo.

Then we went to the waterfront where most of us ate Cow's ice cream and stared at big boats in the harbour and strange people on shore.

Eventually we had to go home to the Bay where we were scheduled for a family photo for our parish's pictoral directory.  The appointment was at 4:45pm on Tuesday.  We left the night before in order to drive through Monday night/Tuesday morning and arrive in time for showers, rest and a change of clothes.

We got home at 4:20pm in time for Dave to shower and the rest of us to change into appropriate clothing.  I, however, had turned off the hot water tank and the shower was nixed.  Strangely, the photo  is one of our best ever.  Funny, that.