My brother-in-law, Frank, Tom, me, my sister Gayle
For years, I had no idea in which of our many photo albums to look for the snapshots of our wedding, but after a persistent search through a good many albums, I found them a few months ago. Tom and I married in Charleston, South Carolina, at the Roman Catholic Cathedral of St. John in the bishop's private chapel. The small chapel was the perfect setting for our wedding, because only a very few were in attendance. Fr. Francis Friend presided over the ceremony, and he was a true friend. Because we were not members of their parishes, the other Roman Catholic priests whom I approached to do the honors, refused. We wanted to do the right thing, but we could not find a priest to make an honest woman out of me until I discovered Fr. Friend.
The bride and groom
Fr. Friend worked at the Cathedral office of the Marriage Tribunal, which generally handled annulment cases, but, in our case, he agreed to preside over our wedding ceremony. Present were my sister, Gayle, my brother-in-law, Frank, my niece Donna, Frank's sister, Chally and her two children, Cindy and Don. After the ceremony, my sister had a surprise wine and cake party for our small group. It was lovely, and I would not change a thing.
The happy couple once again...
After I finished graduate school at Louisiana State University in early August 1961, I went to stay with my sister in Charleston, South Carolina, because Tom was on active duty in the US Army at Fort Jackson in Columbia, South Carolina. He came to visit in Charleston on weekends until he was released from active duty to the US Army Reserve at the end of August or early in September. Since we wanted a small wedding, we decided to get married in Charleston. My family was large, and there was no way to have a small wedding in New Orleans without hurting the feelings of a good many people.
...and again - sipping champagne
Tom and I both had jobs waiting in Mobile, Alabama, and after a honeymoon that lasted a night and a day in St. Augustine, Florida, we headed to New Orleans and New Roads, Louisiana, to pick up our few possessions before we went to Mobile to our jobs. We had very little money and none for a longer honeymoon.
Me, my niece, Donna, and Tom
On the way to New Orleans, my car the, 1953 Chevrolet hard-top convertible pictured behind us, began to make a terrible noise when we turned curves. We were able to complete the trip to New Orleans, with the grinding sound on every curve, and we knew that we likely had expensive repairs facing us. I'd purchased the car used several years before, and, in those days, car dealers routinely turned back the mileage on used cars, so no telling how many miles the car had run. Instead of paying for the repairs, we decided to buy a new car.
We purchased a 1961 Ford Falcon, with no money down, only my old car as a trade-in and proof that we both had jobs. We loaded all our possessions into the Falcon (Those were the days of the simple life!) and started out on our new life together in Mobile.
And here we are, 49 years later, hardly changed at all.
