From the book Spider’s Big Catch

As June wraps its arms around
us like the warm hug of a favorite aunt, I begin to think about
weddings. I’ve been a musician for thirty years, and I’ve played at
scores of weddings and receptions, sometimes more than once for the
same person. It was a way to make a living—the money was good and there
was usually decent food.

As a wedding soloist, I’d sit off to the
side, watching brides in white dresses and grooms in rented tuxedos
promise to love each other forever. But somehow, I couldn’t shake a
sadness that always hung over me as I watched, knowing that one in
every two marriages will fail.

I can’t explain it, but over the
years, I developed an eye for knowing whether a couple was going to
make it or not. There was just something about the way the bride and
groom related to each other—the look in their eyes and their body
language—that offered clues as to how their marriage was going to turn
out.

Then one afternoon, while our band was playing for a large
reception in a small town ballroom, I casually looked across the vast
sea of people. My glance moved from table to table, until I saw the
bride and groom, sitting alone in a corner. They were sitting in total
ease, holding hands, saying nothing.

Her flowing white dress and
his tuxedo seemed out of place, but their happiness and comfort with
each other was totally apparent. There was no question that those two
people belonged together. They would’ve been sitting there in those
same two chairs, still holding hands in exactly the same way, if they’d
been wearing blue jeans and overalls at someone else’s reception.

They
were at a party, to be sure—a big, loud party. But the party was really
for the benefit of everyone else in attendance. They were totally
comfortable just sitting in their corner, out of the limelight,
watching the people they loved having a good time.

As cynical as
I’d become over the years, something struck me at that moment as I
watched that couple. I realized that weddings actually represent the
triumph of the human spirit. Every marriage is a public statement by
two people, letting the whole world know that together, they choose to
believe that their union will be the one-in-two that lasts.

When
thought of in that way, every wedding really symbolizes a victory of
hope—in the face of all odds. Sure, it’ll take all their courage and
strength to succeed, but no matter what, couples continue to try.

They know the statistics are against them—but they look straight into the eyes of the odds makers and say, “So what?�

And why not? Throughout history, people have staked their fortunes, and sometimes their very lives, on less than a 50-50 chance.

Maybe
that’s why we hold so many weddings in the month of June. It’s a month
that can be unpredictable—full of warmth and promise one minute, and
then suddenly becoming stormy and filled with uncertainty.

As for
me, since seeing that couple, holding hands at their reception, I’ve
begun singing my wedding solos with a renewed hope—embodied by two
people at the altar, vowing to face their future together, in spite of
overwhelming odds.

© 2004. Gary E. Anderson. All rights reserved.

About The Author

Gary
Anderson is a freelance writer, editor, ghostwriter, and manuscript
analyst, living on a small Iowa farm. He’s published more than 500
articles and four books. He’s also ghosted a dozen books, edited more
than 30 full-length manuscripts, produced seven newsletters, and has
done more than 800 manuscript reviews for various publishers around the
nation. If you need writing or editing help, visit Gary’s website at www.abciowa.com. abciowa@alpinecom.net