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My how time flies when you are having fun. When I was young, time couldn’t go fast enough. Then you hit thirty and all you want time to do is slow down. Despite all of my best efforts, it hasn’t. If anything, it has sped up to the point where in a blink of an eye twenty years has passed.
Twenty years ago I didn’t have a computer, a cell phone, or a DVD player. I had just gotten my first CD player and my CD collection had a whopping 10 CD’s. I had not yet purchased one of those new fangled fax machines yet, but when the time came to get one, it cost me more than the last computer I purchased.
To the teenagers nowadays, twenty years ago must seem like the dark ages. Or at very least, something akin to the people of my generation imagining what the world was like before television. The strides we have made in technology have been absolutely amazing. In my case, the life style changes I went through in the last twenty years make the technological changes pale by comparison.
Twenty years ago, I was on my tenth year of being single after a brief and painful divorce, when one of my friends turned customer invited me to the Universal Amphitheatre to watch the concert of his boss Elton John. Little did I know that that invitation would be a turning point in my life.
It was on that night at the after show party backstage that I would meet my future wife, Stacey. We had made eye contact from across the room and I thank god that she was more assertive than I was, because it was she who approached me. We exchanged phone numbers, and even though she lived in West LA and I in Temple City, geographically undesirable for most people, we began dating.
Soon we were living together in the City of Temple in my tiny one bedroom place on Sultana Avenue and spending all of our non-working hours together. We were quickly becoming each other’s best friends and confidants, something, that to be honest after ten years of being single, I thought would never happen.
Then one evening we were at dinner with my family at a restaurant up in Arcadia. On the drive home, out of the blue and without any planning, I asked her what she thought about getting married. I wasn’t sure how receptive she would be to it having come off of a bad marriage herself. My grandmother, Nonie, who was in attendance that night had planted the marriage seed and I decided to give it a shot.
Luckily, she said yes and we began to make our grand plan. Co-conspirators always have to have a plan and that’s what we were. We had both already done the big wedding thing and decided this time around we would do it our way. Elopement was what we were thinking, the old surprise attack. If there were going to be any objections the objectors would just have to keep it to themselves, because it would be too late. But how to do it?
We were already planning on going up to my Nirvana to the North for the Fourth of July. My parents and both of my grandmothers would be there, which would be perfect as far as having some family that could share the joyous news after the fact. The trick would be to pull it off with them in the cabin just below us.
The plan was that on the morning of the 4th of July, we would tell them that we were going on a picnic in Yosemite. That would allow us plenty of time to carry out our true plan, which was to get dressed in our casual wedding attire and sneak out and over the border to the capital of Nevada, Carson City.
This was no easy feat considering that my parents get up earlier than farmers every morning. If they saw how we were dressed they would know something was up other than a picnic in Yosemite. So the night before, like thieves in the night, we positioned our car, a Jetta with a stick shift, so that with a little push we would quietly roll down the road until we were a safe distance away, then pop that sucker into gear and make our getaway.
It went off without a hitch and after a beautiful sunrise drive through the Eastern Sierras we arrived in Carson City. We had done a bit of homework and had picked what on paper sounded romantic, the oldest wedding chapel in Nevada. Once inside it was more humorous than romantic. There was a latticework wall with pre-made plastic bouquets that you could buy for five bucks each and numerous plaster statutes and busts of Elvis.
The elderly woman who greeted us was the ultimate multi-tasker. She not only checked us in, billed us, explained how the ceremony would run, which I guess made her the wedding planner, she also played the music and was the photographer. Her husband, whose appearance was somewhere in between Elvis and Captain Kangaroo, was the minister of ceremonies.
After we giggled our way through the ceremony and had our pictures taken, we headed back to surprise the family at the cabin. As we drove back neither one of us could stop smiling. It may have been the thought that we were just married by Elvis Kangaroo. But to this day, I believe that it was that we had confirmed what we both knew, that we were each other’s soul mate and best friend.
This fact has proved itself over the last twenty years, as we always feel most comfortable when we are with one another. It is not always an Independence Day parade, as anyone who reads my column on a regular basis can tell, living with a moody individual like me can be prickly at times to say the least. But even during those brief moments, we prefer to stay home with one another rather than going out into large social situations. When we are together, everything just seems perfect, and on the very rare occasion that we are apart, the world just doesn’t seem right.
We have produced two wonderful children, Rachel and Alex. There are some days that Stacey and I look at one another with a look on our faces that says, “How did we do that?” Considering the time period in which we grew up, we could never have never imagined raising children who got good grades, were polite and well behavied, and who both love sports so much. I guess we were just meant to be together because, knock on wood, all the pieces just fit.
Even the part about getting married on the Fourth of July. Even though it would never happen, like it does to so many husbands, when I see those firework stands go up, I know that my anniversary is just around the corner. The extra-added bonus is that on every anniversary the skies light up with aerial displays that feel as though they are there just for us.
So Stacey, as we turn the corner to the next Fourth of July I have to say thank you for the best twenty years of my life. I can’t imagine my life without you and with every explosion in the sky that we watch on that night, each one represents an amazing moment that we have shared.
I love you. Happy 19th Anniversary. I can’t wait until next year, celebrating our 20th. I hope it doesn’t go by as fast as the first twenty.
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