Forty years and counting ...

It was 40 years ago this month when the wedding party and guests faced the grove of poplar trees with its pond full of frogs and ducks and the preacher forgot to read the vows during my wedding to Gary in the front yard of my Glennallen home.

In other years, the trees were leafed out by this time and the grass was green, but that year spring was slow. But I didn’t care. I wanted to get married in May and the 26th was the last Saturday.

It would have made things easier for my mother if I hadn’t been so stubborn about wanting a May wedding. She had teaching responsibilities to wrap up, my high school graduation, and the wedding to get through all in a two-week period! I did help with organizing and decisions concerning the wedding, but I also was busy completing my senior year assignments. I remember finishing a science project in the nick of time and writing a valedictorian speech while my mind was really on the wedding.

At times during the preceding months, when planning seemed like too much of a hassle, Gary and I were tempted to elope, or just have a small family wedding. But several community members told us we couldn’t get away with that, and so the whole town was invited.

With the flowers and cake ordered, and the invitations mailed, there seemed to be no turning back.

I made my wedding dress out of white dotted Swiss material using a simple pattern and my sisters each made their long pink dresses.

Gary said he would wear his suit, which he had worn to both my junior and senior proms. I just assumed the other men would wear their best clothes. I never even thought about matching tuxedoes for the men.

The evening before the wedding, the organ was hauled in by trailer and set up in the yard, covered with a tarp and plugged into via extension cord. Folding chairs were set up the next morning. It was windy and spitting rain.

After the rehearsal, everyone went to Bob and Agnes Lee’s home (friends who have now lived in Palmer for more than 30 years) where she and a friend hosted a wonderful rehearsal dinner. The Lee’s had replaced their living room furniture with tables for more than 20 guests. The local doctor’s wife made three beautiful doll cakes featuring a bride and two attendants dressed in white and pink.

The house and yard were buzzing with final preparations. Guests from New York, California and Petersburg had already arrived, but that morning more out-of-town guests drove in. Dad cleared overgrown brush and willows from the field to the right of the driveway to make a parking area. Friends from Anchorage arrived with the flowers, which they had to pay for since we had forgotten to make other arrangements.

Agnes and other ladies came to set up and organize the cake and food tables for the reception. Dad shut the goose in the greenhouse so it wouldn’t interrupt the ceremony, but he left the ducks free to swim on the pond. I was so happy it didn’t rain, even though the wind blew slightly.

The very large, lovely cake made by another local lady arrived night before and was waiting in our “formal” living room (a log building detached from the trailer), which also was where the wedding gifts were displayed. Shortly after noon, I glanced out the living room window and noticed a guy standing in the yard. Upon second look, it was Gary! Between a fresh haircut and a new blue sports coat and white slacks, I hadn’t recognized him.

About 15 minutes before the 2 p.m. ceremony the organist began to play to gather everyone. One of Gary’s good friends sang two songs and then the pastor married us. He accidentally left out the vows, but we did each say, “I do,” at the appropriate time. After being pronounced man and wife Gary picked me up and carried me down the aisle to murmurs and laughter.

We greeted our guests in the receiving line, cut the cake and I threw my bouquet. Sometime during the reception Dad’s order of honeybees arrived from Anchorage. Gary had instigated this project, so feeling a little responsible; he disappeared into the woods to help Dad get the bees settled.

After a while, people started talking about leaving and we still hadn’t taken any formal photos or opened the gifts. I impatiently hurried out to Dad and Gary to try to get them to return to the party. After pictures were taken, all the gifts were loaded into our 1969 Volvo, which had been decorated with shaving cream and tin cans thanks to my 11-year-old brother. We changed clothes and had a grand send-off to our honeymoon — the first night’s destination being a hotel in Anchorage. After months of anticipation, the exciting event was over and we had a five-hour drive to talk about our new life together.

The next day we went to the little house on 25th Avenue in Spenard that we had rented from Dad and Mom and leisurely opened our wedding gifts. Then we drove down to the family cabin near Cooper Landing for two memorable days before Gary had to return to his construction job.

That was the beginning of a lasting relationship — for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health. Forty years have come and gone with many changes, but springtime always returns — even if it is late — and the poplar grove, the pond and the frogs remain unchanged.

Happy anniversary, Gary!

Maraley McMichael is a longtime Mat-Su Valley

writer and resident.