A golden anniversary for the ages and the aches, pains

Once upon a time, a young couple fell in love and got married.  

 

Sometimes the years flew by. Sometimes they crawled by. But they passed, nonetheless. The ’70s, the ’80s, the ’90s, the millennial, and 21 more years after that.  

 

A golden anniversary was on the horizon and this couple, our very dear friends, was ready to celebrate. Old photos were dragged out, exclaimed over, and displayed for all the party guests to admire — staged next to photos from the present which elicited the expected response, “They haven’t changed a bit — except for his hair.”

(Chuckle). 

 

Janis Joplin played a prominent role in the memorabilia, as she had headlined the concert where the golden couple had their first date. Yes, we all knew Janis — we may have emoted in different ways when we saw her photo, but no one felt indifference.  

 

Roses had been painstakingly arranged into centerpieces. A beautiful little wedding cake adorned a pedestal as part of the party décor to appreciate and later to devour. (I believe I’ve mentioned, ad nauseum, my love affair with cake.)

 

Guests arrived to a gorgeous evening beginning with cocktails and hors d’oeuvres on the patio. This evening we presented ourselves, not just in our finery (and we were fine!) but as we were in our prime. We had all been where they had been — the circumstances may have been different, but we grew up during the same years,

celebrated similar events, cried parallel tears — and we were kindred spirits that night.

 

Inside the party venue we were treated to a champagne toast, a delicious meal and the bride and groom’s original wedding vows — probably a little less sophisticated than they would be if written in the present, but no less endearing, filled with love and hope for the future.

 

The background music ramped up into our music ­— Motown, Beatles, Stones, good old rock n’ roll — we knew every word and sang along exuberantly. No one had to coax us out onto the dance floor. We danced until we had to take off our shoes. Some guests, myself included, actually brought comfortable shoes to change into and then we danced even more.  

 

Eventually we were ready to feast on wedding cake and crème brulee and make our way around to visit each and every exhausted, happy guest, not wanting the evening to end.

 

But, as they say of all good things ...

 

We walked out to the parking lot en masse and I heard someone say: “We should all be contestants on ‘limping with the stars.’”

 

Only our bodies were sore — our heads were still reminiscing and our hearts were, well, as Janis would say: “Take another little piece of my heart now baby ... you know you got it, if it makes you feel good.”