Returning Sunday from the wedding of our youngest son, we drove into our yard to discover we’d missed witnessing one hail of a storm. Interestingly, no other house at Camp Luna got pelted. Meteorologists are still marveling at the fact that the storm centered solely over our property, wrecking the siding on the south wall and causing the roof to our fairly new house to need replacement.
We don’t wish this fate on anyone else: realizing other people in the area also got clobbered by the hailstorm won’t raise our spirits. Still we wonder: why us (or as my English teacher would say, why we)? Through the man who inspected the damage, we learned the eternal question: What size were hail stones before golf balls were invented? We learned from neighbors that the stones that hit our house were marble-sized. But rather than turn this into a meteorological treatise, let me explain the real storm we observed and participated in over the weekend was visual and emotional. And rather than even imply that the Trujillos put on the dog, let me assure you that what we saw in Albuquerque is typical for today. So, some comparisons:
In 1966, Bonnie’s and my wedding cost $100, and it took some grumbling on the part of those who chipped in. Though the wedding included eight attendants, nobody wore a tuxedo or fancy dress. The reception consisted of cake, ice cream, punch and Highlands tenure mints.
In 2005, at Ben’s wedding, there were the same number of attendants, but that’s where everything changes. All participants, including fathers of the couple, wore tuxes. I’d never put on a monkey suit in my life and asked a second eternal question: If cars are more expensive than tuxes, why are they cheaper to rent?
The tuxedo, with its snap-on vest, countless studs and wrap-around necktie, reminded me of a job I had a couple of summers before going to college. I was a handyman at a local funeral home and often assisted in applying what we called a “difunto suit” on the deceased. These suits came all in one piece: shirt, jacket, pants and tie. We simply needed to snap them up in back to complete the dressing process. Why not the same for a tux, which costs about 10 bucks an hour to rent?
In 1966, our rehearsal dinner consisted of a 75-cent meal at Springer’s El Taco Emporium and Burrito Palace. Last weekend, we joined about 40 others for a sit-down meal at a place called Sadie’s. Bonnie’s and my reception consisted of a second helping of cake, whereas last week, we chose between chicken and prime rib, catered by Hyatt-Regency staff.
In 1966, the honeymoon consisted of a six-weeks stay in Mexico City; our son Ben and his bride Heather, flew to Tahiti for 10 days.
The comparisons are endless. In 1966, of course, we were two recent college graduates counting on a teaching contract that fall, which was then easy to get. Today, the newlyweds have adequate jobs which enabled them to foot most of the bill, including the limo ride.
I’d never stepped into a car longer than a Crown Victoria before Saturday. The limo, which took up at least a city block, came equipped with a wet bar, TV, disco-type lighting and plenty of room to stretch. Though the mile ride was enjoyable, we fretted more about the fact that our car remained in the church parking lot, and we needed someone to retrieve it.
In 1966, we squeezed into my parents’ 1964 Nova, which they loaned us for our trip south. In Mexico, ours was the only car of its kind. Why? Remember what Lee Iacocca said about the blunder in trying to market that Chevy model in Latin American countries. No va is Spanish for “It doesn’t run.”
Thinking the reception dinner was the epitome of profligacy and ostentation, we went to the lobby and discovered some familiar faces, including Mel and Bella Martinez and Matt and Loretta Sandoval. They were attending a wedding reception for friends, in the ballroom next to ours: same quality of food, same number of guests, same kind of music.
Upon returning our tuxes the following morning, we learned that among the three stores operated by a particular rental company, they furnished tuxedos for 65 weddings in Albuquerque and Santa Fe that weekend.
My lack-of-frills childhood forces me almost to apologize for appearing to boast about the colossal spectacular that was our son’s wedding. But we learned that a limo ride is virtually routine for dozens of couples on prom and graduation nights.
People’s bridal registries today are at Macy’s, Foley’s, Dillards and Williams-Sonoma, with an occasional registry at places as mundane as Wal-Mart or Target. In my youth, had there even been registries, they would have been at our downtown stores, Funk’s 5 & 10, and Newberry’s.
Clearly, it’s not equitable to refer to 1960s dollars in the same sentence as bucks people shell out today. Regardless, life was simpler in the Œ60s. Back then, we left on our honeymoon not owing a cent, but this last weekend, the real storm in our family occurred when I realized that the price of my wife’s dress would have paid for a limo ride, a tux rental, prime rib, and even ribbons for her hat.