There is a tide in the affairs of men. Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; . . .
Julius Caesar Act 4, scene 3
Rituals--Robert Fulghum Revisited
It took me until October of 1995 to realize that I had been leading a Robert Fulghum-like existence. I was immersed in Life's rituals of which he wrote in his book of the same title, and did not realize it. Rituals have a way of sneaking up on you--they are not always universally set times like Christmas, Easter, or the Fourth of July (though these certainly are rituals, as well.) What I define as ritual is an event that has a timing all its own. These are events that are thrust upon you--that rise and fall on a tide of their own making. Events like weddings, births, deaths, and reunions fall into my category of rituals. Oh sure, there are schedules and timeframes involved in rituals, but they are not unequivocally uniform. That's what makes them such a joy--they come out of nowhere and catch your off guard.
My realization started with the wedding of a very good friend. My husband was a groomsman, and for the first time in literally years, donned a tuxedo. There was as much excitement about my "no frills" husband wearing a tux as there was about the wedding hoopla. Guys were taking bets on whether or not he would show, what with having to wear a monkey suit and all.
We did the usual wedding things, like rushing around at the eleventh hour to buy a present, waiting till the last possible moment to be fitted for this auspicious tux, running like squirrels to make the rehearsal and dinner, AND to be on time to the wedding. (My husband and I are both notorious for being down to the wire or even late--but, we promised in blood that we would be on time. And we were.)
After all these pre-wedding amenities, and having time with both families, we got up early the next morning to prepare for the big day. We were doing great, made it to the church, and fell in with the rest of the participants. The church was hushed at this point, with no crowd. I saw the behind-the-scenes events, and watched the special hour draw near with a congregating of our dear friends, who had come from other states even to see their buddy take a wife. I watched all this and observed with my writer's mind, thinking I would someday write it all down.
I was walked down the aisle myself and seated in the family section. What an honor, a friend thought enough of me to put me on the bench with his loved ones--with his mother only, as it turned out. His father was the best man, and his sister, who was to be a brides-matron, was at the hospital taking care of her own ritual--the birth of her baby. (You see, I told you these events have a mind of their own--the baby was coming, wedding or no wedding.)
So, I sat with the Mom, our good friend's mother, and smiled when I should, and tried to look strong, in case she wanted to cry, and handed her a tissue when she needed one. Then the music boomed out, and the wedding began, and the ritual hit me right between the eyes. This can be verified by the fact that my eyes immediately filled with water the minute the wedding march began. What had been a casual rehearsal, yielded as they always do, a very proper, circumspect wedding procession. I watched all these people come down the aisle, and most especially my husband. There he was my husband, my partner, my buddy, sometimes my greatest foe, but always my greatest ally, wearing his tux like he had been born in it. And, sporting on his arm, I might add, the prettiest bridesmaid I've ever seen!
The party stood at the altar, and I continued to listen to the music, fought the tears and goose pimples, and watched the back of my husband's head. We had been through so much together. We had fought each other, chicken pox, the battle of the budget, the battle of the bulge, and myriad other engagements through the years. But, through it all, he had stood by me, this man that I called a "flatliner," this Quiet Man, this Clark Gable of my own making. He had seen me throw up, he had seen me with no makeup, and pregnant in Birmingham, Alabama in July with swollen ankles. He had felt the sting of my sharp words, and heard my murmurings of love. He had lost his temper, made up with me, and supported me in anything I ever wanted to do.
In short, I sat in the congregation and thought over the years of my marriage. I re-lived my ritual, and all that it had come to mean in real life. I saw the cycle beginning again. Another couple taking the plunge, making a pledge that they would live together "till death us do part." Not a bad deal, to take a buddy for life. You're gonna' need one, 'cause it's a jungle out there. But don't miss the ritual of the wedding. It will sustain you through rough days, the taking of these vows. And it will serve to remind your friends of love, and commitment, and what it means to be a partner.