Part of the lore that surrounds my mother’s marriage to my father in 1953 was her departure from traditional wedding vows. She was unwilling to marry my father if she had to pledge to “love, honor and obey” him. She took issue with “obey.” To my father’s credit, he could see her point. Though he was a Lieutenant Junior Grade in the Navy, he was not entirely comfortable with being obeyed. My parents were only 21-years old when they married; they were inconceivably young. My 21-year old mother had to buck the entire Methodist church to convince the minister to change the vows to her satisfaction. I imagine my grandmother's flinty determination was reflected in her daughter's eyes when the door shut on her meeting with the minister. The exact details of the conversation are lost to the sands of time. All that I know for sure is that on June 13, 1953, my mother met my father in a church decorated with daisies that she and her sister picked that morning. All I know for sure is that my great-uncle stood in his brother’s stead to give my mother away. All I know for sure is that my mother promised to love and honor my father until death did they part. And she did.
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