On February 14th, 1970, a gangly 23-year-old and a green-eyed 19-year-old were married in a church in Burnaby. The bridesmaids wore pink. The roses were red. He only weighed 123 pounds.
Their reception was at Frank Baker’s restaurant in West Van. The salad was, by all accounts, excellent.
Their honeymoon was a weekend in Seattle. They only ate at Denny’s, because he was nervous to eat anywhere else. It’s hard to say if this is why he only weighed 123 pounds.
Shortly after they were married, they set off for Texas, where he would attend seminary, and she would eventually give birth to a pretty baby who didn’t like having food on his face.
They headed to their first church in Saskatchewan a couple of years later, and completed their family with a baby girl in 1974. She didn’t so much mind the food on her face. Or yelling random things from her crib when she got bored.
Countless moves, churches, jobs and challenges have come up since, and they’ve faced each one together.
He has been a minister and a musician for more than 35 years, but he has also been everything from an English professor to a cop to a hockey referee.
She is a designer, artist, and seamstress now, but she has also been everything from an art teacher to a caterer to the person who painted the sides of the buses.
They are fairly different people, with different personalities and different talents and different ways of dealing and different favourite flavours of ice cream.
They agree on their commitment, the way they adore their kids, their faith, their politics, the value of British comedy, the vacation potential of the Oregon Coast, and the intrinsic magic of Chinese takeout. And a thousand other things, of course.
They disagree about how one should handle traffic stress, the way email should be punctuated, and whether or not shirts really need to go to the drycleaners. And a thousand other things, of course.
But they are, above all else, still very much in love.
They are my mom and dad.
And as of tomorrow — or today, depending on your time zone — they will have been married 37 years.
37 years.
That’s a rare and amazing thing in this world, where people hurt one other and leave one other and devalue one another… just because they can.
My parents are what it looks like to live out your vows every single day.
So.
To you two:
I hope someone will one day love me the way you love one another. I’m proud of you in more ways than I can express, even when you drive me absolutely bonkers.
You are a joy, a hope and a blessing… not to mention two of the funniest people I know.
May you have another 37 years of nudging each other awake in front of the TV.
I love you.
