Not many couples make it to the 60-year mark in their marriages these days, but, I am proud to say that I know one. This past weekend, we celebrated them in a big way.
Oscar and Emily were married in New York on June 23, 1963. Over the next twenty-or-so years, they raised three mostly-ok kids, including Hugh, who was born second (he's a classic example of Middle Child Syndrome, but he's still mostly-ok).
All three kids, plus 99% of their kids, were on hand for the celebration, which, came as a complete surprise to both Oscar and Emily, whom we had convinced would be celebrating without them, due to the distance that they all had to travel. These are not easy people to surprise, so I considered the feat to be monumental.
We held the party at the Native American Museum in Hooterville, which provided enough space for our group of fourteen, plus fifty-three guests. It was also large enough to accommodate the life-sized cut-out of Oscar and Emily on their wedding day that I ordered online (hugely impactful and something that really made Emily's eyes well up).
I had put together a slideshow of pictures, documenting their courtship, early marriage, the years of raising infants and toddlers, and the years that the family grew to include sons and daughters in law and grandchildren. Included in the show were videos sent by friends who had been at the wedding and who live too far to travel (that's when Oscar's eyes welled up, although I'm sure he would probably tell you he just had something in them).
The baker who made the cake for me did a fantastic job of recreating the designs that were a part of the original wedding cake. It was also delicious; we finished off the top tier and a quarter of the bottom tier at the party; the remaining three quarters were gone by Monday night, when we all got together for our final dinner.
Oscar and Emily circulated among the guests for the entire two hours of the party, which was exhausting for them both, although, neither of them would admit it.
All because two people fell in love, y'all.