Last week, Shauna and I intended to spend our 14th wedding anniversary dining in our new log home. We thought it would be romantic to watch the sun set over the lake through the picture windows of our unfinished house. Absent the creature comforts of a finished (or even started) kitchen, we intended to “rough it”, ordering take-out from a better-than-average local restaurant. Unfortunately, things did not turn out as planned. I was to pick up food from a restaurant about fifteen minutes away, and we were going to take everything over to our unfinished house, and improvise for our dining room furniture. First of all, we got a late start, then, the restaurant screwed up our order, and finally, several other delays made our intended plan an ill-fated mission. Instead, we enjoyed a lovely dinner, by the romantic blue light of our television. In past years, we have celebrated our anniversary, decked out in our finest formal attire, dining at prestigious establishments in Banff, including the Banff Springs Hotel, and the Rimrock. In the past year, I believe I have put on a tie twice, and of late, almost without exception, I look like a something the cat dragged in. Perhaps this is the beginning of “phase two” of our marriage, wherein complacency and compromise (lack of hygiene?) become more common. I suppose that, after fourteen years of marriage, the lesson to be learned is that it is not how or where one spends one’s anniversary, but with whom. Shauna, if you read this, I still love you as much as the day we wed, probably more. I’ll never forget our 10th … we spent it at the remote and exclusive Mt. Assiniboine Lodge in the Canadian Rockies. From the roller coaster-like helicopter ride in (those mountain winds can really blow a little helicopter around) to the spectacular food and the wonderful mountain hikes, that was a weekend we will always remember. Shauna and I even wrote a song about it. We rarely collaborate in our songwriting efforts, and it is fitting that we wrote a pretty good song together, to commemorate our 10th.
For some reason, over the past several weeks, I have become more unusually pre-occupied with the past. Maybe it’s because my dad’s birthday is on Wednesday, and I feel strange about how little I’ve seen him of late. I don’t often buy him gifts, but this year, I bought him one of those electronic picture frames into which one can load over one hundred digital photographs. I loaded it with old family photographs dating back to the early 1900’s. There are snapshots of Dad as a child, sepia-toned photos of his sister, of his mom and dad, pictures of my sister’s wedding in 1971, pictures of my sister Joanne, who died when she was 13, photographs from family gatherings passed, friends and family still alive and long gone, pictures of grandchildren. Soon, there will be great grandchildren to photograph. Watching those snapshots flash by in 3 second intervals is a sobering reminder of the relentless march of time.
I don’t know where the last 14 years went; so much in our lives has changed. I still remember when I first met Shauna, and I recall listening to a Paco De Lucia tape in her car after our first dinner together. I remember what she was wearing and, even stranger for me, I recall what I was wearing. I remember many of the other details of that first date. I don’t really need a photograph to spark my memories of the important events in my life, but I suppose they help. There are so many snapshots, capturing so many moments, which have taken on more meaning with the passage of time. There are photos of my ill-spent youth, of friends with whom I’ve lost touch, of parties and family gatherings, of beloved pets. If I close my eyes, I can imagine that sepia-toned photograph of my paternal grandfather – the man I never met – come to life in the color of reality. I remember the day I wed Shauna, and I remember a sunny afternoon in Palm Springs, back when I was four or five, laughing as I rode on my father’s shoulders into the deep end of a pool. I’ve now been married for fourteen years, and my father will turn 98 on Wednesday. Happy Birthday Dad, we’re both in the deep end now.
- Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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