Part 1
SEALING THE VOWS
Our friend, the Reverend Barbara McGrail, was wearing a white robe with a green stole. I was wearing a navy blue tux with a pale blue cummerbund. Sarah Beth, whose green eyes were holding mine, wore a beautifully understated white wedding gown. Our friends and attendants stood in rows near us. My eyes were filled with Sarah’s smile (and with not a few tears of joy), as I heard the minister’s words. "Mark and Sarah, you have committed your lives and your love to one another through the vows that you have exchanged, and the rings that you now wear. It is obvious that your love is a blessing to one another and, indeed, to all who know you. So now, by the authority vested in me by this state and as a minister of the gospel, I now affirm that you are indeed husband and wife, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. May God bless you and keep you. May God’s face be always smiling upon you. May God be with you and surround you with God’s love now and forevermore. Amen. Now usually I call upon a couple to seal their vows with a kiss. But Mark and Sarah have something more to say to each other first."
Our hands together, I said to my love, "I will always love you, Sarah Beth Holding Jansen."
Then she said in a voice firm and strong, "I will always love you, Mark Andrew Holding Jansen." We hadn’t wanted the inconvenience of a hyphenated last name, but we also wanted to affirm that we were truly part of each other’s family. So we took my last name, and we both took her last name as a second middle name. A friend of our families from church, a lawyer, helped us with the paperwork that we would file with our wedding license. We assumed that we would pay her, but her wedding gift to us was a bill marked paid.
Of course, then we kissed, warmly and tenderly, hardly hearing the applause of those who had come to the service. Julie handed the bouquet back to her sister, we turned to face the congregation, and slowly moved down the aisle to Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. Sarah walked holding my arm, as she had held her father’s arm coming down the aisle. She used no cane. Since our families were both active in St. Luke’s Presbyterian Church, the church members had taken us up on our invitation to the whole congregation, and showed up en masse. Of course, there were friends from high school. Mrs. Cameron was there, sitting just behind my mom and dad. All these faces were smiling at us as we walked up the aisle, and we were all captured by the joy of the moment. It was true. We were now officially Mr. and Mrs. Jansen, husband and wife. We were only 18, but we had known for years that this is what we wanted; this is who we were.
INSTANT REPLAY
We formed a receiving line (Sarah scooted onto a stool to take pressure off her weary leg, and Julie adjusted the bridal gown so it was barely evident her sister was sitting).As we waited, my mind did an instant replay to just half an hour before, when Rev. McGrail and I stood up front alone, waiting for the others to come in. Standing there in my blue tux, at the bottom step of the chancel, I waited while two women from our church sang. It nearly broke me up into laughter, for reasons I’ll explain later. I looked at our families and smiled. Then the rest of the wedding party began to process up the aisle. First came Vicky Hudnut in a yellow dress and yellow ribbons in her hair and on her bouquet, accompanied by Allen Eagle Wing, a Native American biking buddy of mine, with a long braid behind his tux. Then Joanie Stephenson rolled in with her electric wheelchair, wearing a soft cranberry-color. My fifteen-year old cousin Michelle, a short blonde, wearing a long blue gown the color of my tux, walked up slightly behind Joanie. Did I mention? She has Down’s Syndrome, but doesn’t let that stop her. As one of my attendants, she didn’t carry flowers, but did have blue ribbons in her hair. Then came the most striking pair. Kelly Cassidy, on Sarah’s side of the aisle, wore mint green, and looked straight ahead, proud, and determined, not caring that people could see the scarred tissue on the right side of her body—her face, neck, shoulder, and arm. With her was Karrin, in her blue gown, all six and a half feet of strong yet refined African woman. Then came Julie, the maid of honor, dressed in tan, and Rick Cousins, my interracial best man and best friend, other than Sarah, of course. Roberta came up the aisle, proudly carrying a flower basket and dropping petals. The top of the scar from her heart transplant showed above the top of her lacy white gown. Her grin went from ear to ear. This was a group that bore its scars well. Finally, the music changed, and Sarah Beth, my beloved, slowly came down the aisle, beaming, holding on to her father’s arm. He kissed her and sat down. Now we were together. Together forever.
The ceremony didn’t take long. Barbara McGrail read scripture, and commented on it. As an aside, she said that she had never seen a more beautiful wedding party, because of all the love that was there. We prayed. We exchanged the vows that we had written, and placed rings on one another’s finger. She blessed our coming together as husband and wife.
As we were shaking hands in the receiving line, I thought about what had happened in the past half-hour. Our local minister was away on vacation. We missed him, but were glad to have Barbara McGrail officiate, since she meant so much to us from Hope Haven, and since she would be our pastor when we entered the university. Karrin, Julie’s tall African roommate, had given us a unique and highly visible gift. She enjoyed sewing as much as she enjoyed basketball, and had made all the attendants’ gowns just for the cost of the material. The two days before the wedding, she had made final fittings on the gowns, understated and simple, the kind of gowns that the participants could wear afterwards to parties, dinners, or to church. After the female attendants had their final fittings and had left for the rehearsal dinner, I wasn’t completely surprised when she pulled out another dress. "This one is for Annie," she said, smiling at me. "I know that you won’t be wearing it at this wedding, but there will be many times you can wear it. Julie told me about your promise to be Kelly’s bridesmaid." It was a soft powder blue, floor length, with no shoulders but a high front that lowered as it went under the arms to mid-back. Tiny scallops along the neckline were the only trim, except for a simple white sash and bow at the hips. She had followed the same design on all the dresses, and explained to everyone’s delight that the white sash and bow symbolized how they were part of Sarah’s life.
AFTER THE BALL
* * *
Finally, we were back at the Holding’s house, alone. The wedding and the reception were over. We had hugged all our friends farewell and cried and laughed. Sarah had changed from her wedding gown and I from the rented tux back at the church. Now we were dressed in jeans again, she with a violet blouse, and me with a checkered shirt. Now that the veil was out of her hair, we looked the same as before—except for the rings on our left hands. My bride was resting with her sore foot propped up on a footstool. I was trying to zip up a stuffed duffel that held my clothes for the honeymoon trip. Sarah’s bags were already sitting at the door.
"So, Mrs. Jansen," I asked, "what was the best part of the wedding for you?"
"Right at the end, when we said we’d love each other always," she responded. "The vows were good, too, but I was too nervous about having them memorized." I agreed. Then she asked me, "So, Mr. Jansen, what was the funniest part of the wedding for you?"
"Well, I almost lost it when I realized what that extra song was that you talked the singers into adding when I was up there all alone with the minister. At first, I didn’t recognize it, I just knew it was an old John Denver song. Then I saw the minister’s mouth twitch. She mouthed to me ‘Annie’s Song,’ and I knew that I had been set up. I had to bite my lip."
"Now didn’t I promise that Annie would be there in a special way, besides on your toenails, I mean?" Last night, I had tried on the dress that Karrin had made me, along with the powder blue sandals with white straps. They had both insisted I apply matching powder blue nail polish to my toenails, so the groom would have "something blue" as well, and so Annie would have a subtle presence. Of course that meant that this morning I had to find an excuse to sneak away from the guys and put on my formal shoes and socks in the bathroom instead of in front of them.
"But the tossing of the bouquet was hilarious, too. Karrin was near the front of the crowd and she leaped up like she was going after a rebound, but then she didn’t catch it, did she?" I grinned as I recalled it.
"No, she ever so gracefully tapped it so it landed in Kelly’s hands," my new wife responded. "And that’s who I wanted to have catch it, anyway. Oh—did Karrin tell you that she was going to sew my maid—uh, matron of honor dress for me, same style, but pink, like Julie’s?" It was nice to know that when we went to Kelly’s wedding, whenever it was going to be, that we wouldn’t be at Kelly’s mercy for picking out the dresses.
About that time, Mom and Dad Holding, Julie, and Karrin, and my folks came in the door. They had been helping clean up the church fellowship hall, even though everybody had told them that they didn’t have to. We hugged all around, and thanked everybody for all the hard work they had put into the wedding. "When I signed the license as a witness," Julie grinned, "I signed it Beulah Pomwoddle. That makes the whole thing illegal, doesn’t it?" We all started beating on her until she shouted, "Just kidding!" She paused and said to Sarah, "Even though you getting married makes me the old maid older sister spinster of the family!"
"Did I just hear a biological clock ticking?" I kidded. Julia Annette Holding threw a sofa pillow at me. Our two moms set out food that they had brought from church, just in case anyone was hungry. We nibbled, anyway. Mrs. Holding sighed something about her baby girl, so my mom had to sigh about her baby boy. Our dads told stories about their weddings, emphasizing how much cheaper they were. (Actually, with wedding and reception both at our church, Karrin’s sewing, and lots of volunteer help, our wedding was surprisingly inexpensive, too.) Even though the bride offered to help with the dishes, it was time to leave. Since our friends had decorated my jeep, we slipped away in my folks’ second car, an old Neon sedan. We stopped to spend the night at a little lodge down the road.
HONEYMOON INN
Remember what I said at the start of the story from last summer? I’m writing these stories for our kids and grandkids and other dear and special people who want to know our story, and why Annie is a part of the story of Mark and Sarah. So, for the benefit of the kids and to protect Sarah’s privacy, this story is going to continue with a G rating. Suffice it to say that yes, we have a sex life. It’s wonderful when sex is a natural outgrowth of love. And yes, Annie came along for the honeymoon, too. The lingerie from Sarah’s shower and from Annie’s shower was put to good use.
After that first night, we drove up into the mountains to a ski lodge. It’s a wealthy, touristy area, but since it was off-season, we could afford three nights there. By day, we sat by the lake, took slow walks, and rode the ski lifts so we could see the view. By night, it was dinners by the fireplace at the lodge, and being together in our log-cabin style room. On the second day, a muscular, well-tanned guy with a staff tee shirt crossed over to us as we walked across the lobby. "Say, I hope that limp isn’t from something that happened here," he said, looking genuinely concerned. "I’m Don Winthrop, by the way, one of the ski pros."
Sarah hadn’t been using her cane—she usually uses it only in crowd situations such as school or the shopping mall, or outdoors on rough ground, to help keep her balance. "No," she said, "It’s okay. I’m an amputee, but from bone cancer, not skiing."
"I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to sound flippant," he said. "That’s really tough. But you ought to come up during the snow season. One of the things that I do is to teach amputees and other people with disabilities how to ski. If you want to, come to my office down the ahll and I’ll show you some pictures." We did, and we were amazed at the adaptations that could be made, and how people had overcome all sorts of obstacles to engage in skiing and other winter sports. Of course, we would be on too low a budget and too busy with our studies this year, but I saw that gleam in Sarah Beth’s eye and knew that eventually we would be back.
Soon, the honeymoon was over, and we went back home to pack, for it was time to move back to Coronado City, the home of our state university.
SETTLING IN
One week to the day after our wedding, we were unloading the contents of the Holding’s minivan, my parents’ van, my jeep, and a rental trailer into our first new home. It wasn’t much to look at, a cheap brick quadruplex. But when you looked carefully, you saw shallow ramps up from the parking lot and no steps into the apartments. When you got inside, the wide doors, low counters, low clothing rods, and specialized bathroom all told you that this was accessible housing. As our parents and I carried things in, Sarah was inside, helping unload, and directing where things would go. When the wardrobe boxes were carted in, I took some good-natured ribbing about all the extra clothes they were unloading. Sarah Beth and I had stepped outdoors as our folks were all sitting inside on the used dinette chairs, taking a break. A van pulled up into the space next to one of ours, and we watched as the big door opened and a wheelchair elevator cranked out. In the electric wheelchair that emerged was a young woman who looked Jewish, with a long brown braid down her back. She was dressed in jeans and a tee, and didn’t wear makeup or much jewelry. With her was a tiny African-American woman, even shorter and more petite than Sarah Beth, with elaborate braids, long nails, and multiple rings in her ears and on her fingers. They pushed the buttons to lift the elevator back into the van, slid shut the door, and began up the sidewalk. The woman in the chair looked at us, smiled, waved, and said "There goes the neighborhood!" From our faces, it was obvious that neither Sarah nor I knew how to take it. We walked over to introduce ourselves.
"Sorry, just kidding," she said. "Whoever you are, I’m glad you’re here, and I’m sure you’ll be better neighbors than the whiney guy that lived here last. I’m Elise Freidman, and this is my partner, Winifred Collins." Winifred shot Elise a glare but smiled at us. "She thinks Winifred is too old fashioned a name," Elise said, "and likes people to call her Win instead. I think she should go by Fred, myself." We introduced ourselves and told her where we were from. "New students, huh? We’re graduate students ourselves, and it seems like we’ve lived here all our lives," Elise continued. "Actually I’m surprised that somebody with just a little gimp made it into this unit, not that I’m prejudiced against almost-able bodied folks, or anything." Sarah explained her amputation and how she often had to use a wheelchair to conserve her strength. Elise went on. "This is sort of a disability ghetto here. I’m paraplegic after a skiing accident when I was sixteen. The guy in the next unit is shy but absolutely brilliant, and a quad. You’d think he was Stephen Hawking in an oriental suit. He’s nicknamed Toyota, because his parents named him Toyozo Hamomota. Margie Kenworthy and her mom live in the last unit. Margie has MS, and is like you in that she uses a wheelchair some and walks some. She doesn’t hang out much with the rest of us, because her mom’s a real bigot about people with different lifestyles and ‘furriners,’ which lets us and Toyota out, and Margie is too timid to make waves. You look clean cut, though, you might pass her tests." Probably not if she met Annie, I thought. By that time, our folks had finished their break and had come out, so we introduced them to our new neighbors.
Sarah’s folks left us later that afternoon, with much hugging and tears. My folks stayed overnight at a motel and came by the next morning to give us more help in setting up our apartment. "Son," my father began as they were nearly ready to leave. "You’re an adult now, and I can’t boss you around any more. But please be careful with this Annie stuff, okay? I know that this is a university campus and there are more liberal lifestyles here," his eyes glanced toward the wall that separated us from Elise and Win, "but there is still a lot of prejudice out there, a lot of guys who are insecure about their own masculinity, or who are just plain mean. You have a wife to take care of now, and I just don’t want to see you hurt." Of course, I promised him that I would be careful.
We settled in, alone at last. "It’s really happened, hasn’t it? It’s us now," Sarah said. "You and me. The Jansens. I like that."
"And don’t forget Annie," I replied.
"How could I ever forget Annie," she asked. "By the way—is Annie busy later?"
"I have a feeling she’ll be around."
© 2000
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