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Bud Grossmann’s
Words of the Week
for the Week of
February 5, 2012
Published as Family History in a
Gramma Letter dated February 6, 1996.
© 1996 by Bud Grossmann.
All Rights Reserved.
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Sweets, 2004
© 2004 by Bud Grossmann
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ONE MORE TIME AROUND
Tuesday, February 6, 1996
Dear Gramma,
During my twenty-five years of husbandhood, I have seen many of my friends’ marriages come and go. Ordinarily, therefore, I am soberly unsentimental about weddings. A few weeks ago, however, I was surprised and thrilled when my wife (who is a state Circuit Court judge) informed me that she would be officiating at a small wedding at our own residence.
I was indeed surprised and thrilled. I was surprised because the bride and groom—people Fran and I know well—had not announced that they planned to marry. I was pleased—thrilled, I can say—because I am more than fond of this couple. I wish them every happiness together.
For certain important reasons, I must not reveal the couple’s names. I will refer to them by the first letters of their first names, “K” and “K.” K and K have much in common. Both are in their late thirties, and each has been married once before. Each is the parent of two daughters, and each of those daughters has a first name that begins with K. K drives a late-model Toyota Camry, and K drives an even newer Toyota Camry.
Now, some people would be astonished by the next coincidence that I will reveal: K’s first marriage began fourteen years—to the day!—before the date of the wedding at our house! And K first became married on that exact same day! Gramma, are you amazed?
Possibly, Gramma, you have already guessed the secret of these “coincidences.” K was married once before, and K was, too, but they were married to each other. Together they produced the two kids, K and K. K and K eventually parted—I don’t recall exactly when—and they quietly became legally divorced. Years passed. K and K stayed on friendly terms. The daughters lived mostly with K, but K was always a big part of their lives, too. Eventually K and K chose to live again under the same roof. They did not reveal to K or K that they had ever been divorced.
On the evening of the second wedding, my children, David and Elizabeth, waited with me for Frances to come home after work and for K and K to arrive at our home. My son recognized that the occasion held potential as story material. “Dad,” he asked me, “are you going to write a Gramma Letter about this?”
“I can’t,” I told him. “K and K might read it.”
They won’t, Dad.”
“They might. They might buy my book when they notice that its title appears, week after week, on the New York Times Best Seller List.”
That is what I told Dave, but now a few weeks have passed, and I’ve decided to chance it after all. I will tell you, Grandma Grossmann, about the wedding. You may wonder, How did the six participants dress for this important occasion? Well, the judge wore a black-and-red muumuu. The judge’s husband (that’s me) wore a gray business suit with shirt and tie and socks. No shoes. People don’t wear shoes inside houses in Hawaii.
My son, David, age fourteen, dressed in an aloha shirt and currently fashionable denim long pants with a button fly. My daughter, Elizabeth, who is eight years old, wore a brilliant white jump suit and a gold necklace. Shortly before K and K arrived at our home, Eliz rinsed watercolor paint brushes in her bathroom sink. Her outfit became slightly less than “pure” white.
The groom appeared relaxed and cheerful in dark slacks, dark socks, and a dark aloha shirt. The bride was resplendent in a something-like-teal knee-length business dress, belted and buttoned, and set off by a single strand of white pearls.
The ceremony did not feel rushed, but My-Wife-the-Efficient-Judge went from “We Are Gathered” to “I Pronounce You Husband & Wife” in just four minutes, fifty-five seconds. I timed her. We grown-ups signed the papers. Then K and K formally sliced and shared a wedding cake topped with haupia (that’s coconut-milk pudding), which David had decorated with bride and groom dolls fashioned from wooden ice cream spoons with inked-on features. K and K had brought a Boston Cream Cake, and we all ate some of that, too. We toasted the marriage with Martinelli’s Sparkling Cider, served in three different styles of wine glasses—cut crystal for K and K; simple, sturdy, stemmed vessels for Fran, Bud, and David; and a delicate liqueur glass etched with grapes on a vine for little Liz.
The newlyweds lingered at our dining room table long enough to engage in what I pronounced to be their First Quarrel. They stayed long enough, also, for me to ask K—without my sounding entirely facetious, “So, K, tell me this: how is married life?” He chuckled in reply, the way any good husband should.
Next week, Gramma, I will wish you a HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!
Love,
Buddy
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This page was updated Sun, Feb 5, 2012, 12:39AM CST
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© 2012 by Bud Grossmann
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