I've wanted to write about this for quite some time- approximately 25 years- and this blog gives me a permanent forum in which to do it. Also, prior to this juncture, there were participants that would have had their feelings hurt by my telling. So, I had to wait. Now three are deceased: Marvin, Edna and Grandma Mabel; and Marge is disconnected from us due to probable Alzheimer's disease. I am now the old one. My children probably have stories they want to tell about me. That's the Karma of life: now being the parent that has made the mistakes that children laugh and whisper about.
Wedding Number 1:
Back to the story: Richard-- your Dad (or Pappy) and I were married twice. No we were not divorced in between the two weddings. The first time just wasn't what it should have been. So, we did it again 6 months later.
The impetus for our first wedding was a job. Rich had a summer Bureau of Land Management (BLM) job in Alaska and in order for me to live with him in government housing we had to be legal. So, we did marry. And the job fell through. This is of course the punch line of the story of our first wedding. For a long time I did not find that funny. But, after 25 years I am trying to develop a sense of humor. I'm grateful that the promise of that job connected me to him.
We decided to marry 'in secret' (our second mistake and counting) with only Marge, Marvin and Paula there because we thought that if everyone knew they wouldn't come to our later planned-wedding. My parents did know, and had no interest in attending. As I reflect back now, this was kind of weird for my parents (I am a spoiled, only, adopted child). I can't remember if I was disappointed by their absence. I just think I was in shock-- living at 94 Center Street will do that to you. As for my parents, I'm sure that they were just glad that their wild child was getting married, as I had gone to see Rich for Thanksgiving approximately 5 months earlier and never returned.
Rich was particularly strident about keeping our marriage a secret. But, days before our nuptials, Marvin told his sister Edna (a woman he rarely wanted to be around let alone interact with). Then, someone told Robbie-- who showed up two days before our wedding as a surprise gift to us. No one thought to tell Rich's Grandma Mabel (which turned out to be one Gargantuan error), especially not Marge, as their relationship was often strained, and Mabel was an elderly shut-in.
Marvin arranged for us to marry in the Orangetown Town Hall on April 10th 1983, by Judge Feenick, a friend of his. To emphasize the extreme casualness of the event, Marge offered me one of her wedding bands (she had an extra) with yarn wrapped around it so that it would fit my skinny fingers. That was a little too Elly May Clampett for me: so Rich and I did the classy thing and went to Sears and bought bands on his only credit card.
As I said, Rob came home from the Navy a couple of days before our wedding to surprise Rich. That was wonderful until they went out the night before our 'ceremony' for a sort of bachelor's party. I did not go out with them, but I knew that they'd be greatly hung over and terrifically tired for our event. That was okay with me I guess, but what came after I woke-up was not (okay).
Apparently, they had arrived (or crawled) home early in the morning of our wedding, and sat at the kitchen table in that big house in Pearl River, with no bedrooms at that time on the main floor, in the middle of the night, and ostensibly alone, and recounted various Vloskyisms to each other over a dead rabbit they ran over on the way home and cooked into a kind of Welsh Rarebit,with processed cheese food. (Yes, I married a man who eats, or whose family eats road kill.) I don't think our kids have heard the "cheese food" et al. stories but Uncle Robbie and Dad can recount them to you.. Apparently, they were in hysterics, and apparently some of what they said was about their father (who was awake, on the couch outside the kitchen door, because he was on-call as an EMT. Uh Oh.). By the time I woke up, Marv was not speaking to either of them.
The morning was a blur. I can't remember getting ready, but I would guess that I did what most brides do, shower, blow dry my hair, put on make-up. But, at some point Marvin told me, "I'm not really mad at Richie anymore; I just want to teach him a lesson." Then, I remember Marge saying to me, "I'm sorry. This is not going to be a good day."
Then someone, I believe it was Marge, asked me if we wanted to postpone our wedding. Now, mind you, I was much more reserved then than I am now, but, I did say, "If we don't marry now, I'm going home." I meant it. I'm sure I looked possessed (my children more than anyone know what this looks like).
So, we marched off to Orangetown Town Hall: me in my Mall-purchased Gunnysacks dress, Rich in his suit that he stole from Robert and had altered (the source of another argument and subsequent debt), his dad in his bolo-tie and polyester jeans, and his mother, Edna and Paula (Rich's sister and my Matron of Honor) in something probably more suitable (although Rob remembers that Edna wore her pink satin toaster-oven overcoat, but I have no proof of that now). I don't think anyone said a word on the ride over. It was pouring with rain and hard to drive due to the total white-out-like conditions. Despite having an umbrella and being relatively near the courthouse door, it was like we were literally dumped-on with buckets of water before we could get inside, and we looked like drowned rats. Here was my big moment and Rich was looking pretty pasty and who knows what I was thinking, but I remember Marvin and the judge talking about the state of their rain gutters (or "guttas" if you have a NY accent). Marv was the wedding photographer.
I don't remember the ceremony, except that we said our "I dos," and then Rich fainted. Marvin, sprung (or is it sprang) into action and had Rich lay down on a bench in the hall.
Then we went to a Scandinavian Smorgasbord at The Old Viking for our wedding meal and back home to the Vlosky house. Oh my goodness: Things thought and not said.
The wedding pictures were sad and I was distraught. I remember Marge proudly bringing us the prints. I think I cried. Here they are and of course now they look adorable.
Sometime before we took off for the West Coast, Marge was feeling sentimental and told Mabel, her mother and Rich's grandmother about us being married. I am not sure when this happened or how it happened, but I do think Marge had the best of intentions. But, the result was that Mabel decided she would disinherit Rich -- she was understandably distraught that she was not invited to our wedding-- and refused to answer the door to her apartment when he tried to talk to her.
Somehow Marge talked Mabel out of disinheriting Rich, but Mabel never did like me. I doubt we had a word with each other after that. My only saving grace was that she liked my mother and loved Rich. Later, when Rob asked Nancy to marry him, Mabel gave them her diamond ring. All the while, I was still hanging on to my Sears wedding band. Edna did try to remedy that by giving me Zadeh's (literally "grandfather" in Yiddish) diamond, set in a solitaire ring, several years after we were married. I still wear that ring. It was a sweet gesture, sort of unexpected (as Robbie was her favorite) and healing.
Wedding Number 2:
Rich and I were 26 and 25 years old and felt too old for our parents to be paying or planning for our wedding. We planned it in the St. John's Episcopal Church of my upbringing, which was moved to Oaks Park probably 15 years earlier and re-named the Oak's Pioneer Church. We sold it to Rich's parents as an "historical site." For good reason, we felt that they wouldn't like Rich to be married in a Christian environment. We booked the church for October 9th, 1983. We hired a flautist and a harpist to play. I don't remember what they played; just that it was anything but the Wedding March (not my thing). I wore a 'vintage' tea length cotton lace dress that Win, my godmother found for me. We found a Unitarian Minister that would appease both families and wrote our own vows.
Marge offered to pay for the invitations. I wanted my family-- my mother and her sister and my cousins, to cook for the reception, which we held at the Milwaukie Racquet Club. However, my nervous mother thought that sounded so stressful and awful that she paid for the catering. We hired a band, but I don't remember a thing about them. My childhood friend, Steven paid for our limo. My high school best friend, Becky Mitchell, did all of the flowers (to look like wildflowers). My college best friend, Susan, was my Maid of Honor. Of course Robbie was Rich's Best Man (he wore his Navy dress whites and showed-up the groom not to mention the bride). We ordered a carrot cake for our wedding cake, which neither of us got to sample. My father was the photographer in the church, and Marv was the photographer in my parents' house on 23rd street. Both sets of pictures were precious.
We set up a tent in our backyard for people coming in from out of town. The great absences from the event were my mother's sister Eileen (my aunt, who died 2 days after our wedding) and Rich's brother Mark and his children. But, my grandmother, my father's mother, Fay, came to our wedding, which was probably the last time she left the house. My cousin Don's family came. And numerous dear friends came from out of town, most of whom I'm still in contact with. All of my old boyfriends of merit came. Rich can say more about that. The wonderful thing about Rich is that for most of our marriage those things never bothered him. I am very thankful for this freedom to be myself with people that were significant in my life.
In retrospect, I loved both of my weddings. Rich asked me to re-marry him for our 25th anniversary last year and I said "No freaking way!"