This is the follow up to my attempted cliffhanger ending of the last post. June 25, 1977 started out as just an ordinary day--Wait that sounds like one of those true crime shows on TV-- Our wedding day began with just the minor hiccups of getting hitched. Reed had camped out at our wedding site in the woods outside Missoula the night before, overslept, had one white and one yellow sock to go with his black tux. (If I cared how my spouse dressed, I would not have married Reed.) Reed's young, clueless cousin came into the trailer to change clothes at the same time I was trying to change into my wedding gown, so my maid of honor held my poofy slip between us as a makeshift privacy screen. Bugs crawled between the layers of my dress during pictures. I shook them out between poses and tried not to think about what might be crawling on the inside of the dress, especially on my body.
So much for the hiccups, now come the heaves. The pastor of my home church, where the reception would be held, did not make it to the wedding. We found out later it was because a stock car on a trailer had come loose as he followed it up the hill and smashed into his car. (Omen 1) As we headed from the woods to the reception, we saw a car had slid off the road and into a tree. It was our friend Ed, who was also serving as our wedding photographer, and his wife. He had lost control on the winding gravel road, both were injured. (Omen 2) We were the first car on the scene. Our best man, Dave, was next. Since both victims were able to move on their own, but their car was not, we decided to put them in our car and have Dave drive them to the hospital. Reed sent me up the road to flag down other wedding guests and warn them about the accident ahead, so I whipped off my veil and used it as a flag. Somehow, they didn't mention the veil's multi-purpose potential at the bridal shop.
When we got to the top of the hill above the church in Dave's car, we noticed ours was at the church parking lot instead of the hospital. Next to it was an ambulance. In many circumstances it is a relief to see an ambulance, but your wedding reception is not one of them. Our car had died at the crest of the hill, Dave had coasted the rest of the way. (Omen 3) At this point we had no photographer for the reception, and no car to go on our honeymoon. But I didn't want a photographer right then anyway because I was crying. Thankfully, a family friend volunteered to take reception pictures. Meanwhile his father, the pastor who had married us, was visiting at our outdoor reception when he heard a crack overhead and stepped back to see what it was, narrowly escaping being hit by a large branch that broke off the cottonwood tree he was standing under. (Which omen are we on now? Oh yes, Omen 4)
If Reed and I had been superstitious, we would have skipped signing the marriage certificate and gone straight for annulment. Instead we borrowed his parents car, went to our honeymoon cabin (also borrowed), Ed and his wife were checked out at the hospital and my in-laws brought them (in their other vehicle) to their house to recover. Our wedding ceremony lasted ten minutes, but people remembered our anniversary for years to come because of the accidents, injuries, and expenses. Since our marriage, which began as such a memorable mess, has endured for 46 years, I'm glad we ignored its ominous beginning. Besides, our wedding wasn't nearly as complicated as Reed's folks elopement, but that story hangs on another cliff.
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