Monday, November 5, 2012

Please to remember the fifth of November,
Gunpowder, treason, and plot.
I see no reason that gunpowder treason,
Should ever be forgot.

Thirty years ago today, Harold and I were married by Winslow Christian, a state Appellate Court Judge, in his San Fransisco office. We had met him earlier that year on a USIA-sponsored U. S. Speakers tour in Peru and Chile. He and Harold served on panels explaining how reporters, lawyers, and judges interact in newsworthy court cases.

Over the years we've had a lot of fun associating our anniversary with Guy Fawkes Day, a holiday nearly unknown in the U.S., but one associated with very un-anniversary like images of fireworks, bonfires, and "burning the guy" in effigy. 

Like any marriage, our has had its share of fireworks, but the years sneak by and suddenly here we are, celebrating 30 years together. I honestly don't remember how we celebrated the previous 29. A few are memorable, a few were probably marred by forgettable skirmishes. But this year is tough, because we are not exactly together, physically, as Harold continues to recover at a rehabilitation hospital. But as it turns out we were both very mindful of the day.

I started out thinking the best way through was to "forget" it was our anniversary and treat it as a normal day. I had plenty of work to keep me busy and it would have been relatively easy to have gotten lost in all the demands of meetings, reports, and classes.

But, in a wonderful tribute, our children wouldn't let either of us forget. "Happy Anniversary," was the first thing Gwyneth said to me this morning. Then she sent me a valentine's text, fearing I would be sad. And Gareth visited his dad, since I could not, and strolled into his room reciting, "Please to remember the fifth of November." He reported that Harold instantly grasped the significance of the phrase, looked utterly panic-stricken, and said the only possible word under the circumstances: "Flowers?"

To hear that my dear husband recognized the rhyme, still knows the meaning it has for us, and is desperate to buy me flowers is the only anniversary present I need. 


No comments:

Post a Comment