Getting Married

Getting Married

In May of 1973 I drove nine hundred miles to visit my girlfriend. It was a very productive visit, because this lonely sailor finally convinced my girlfriend to become my finance. We selected September 3^rd as our original wedding date.

This date made sense. Cindy will have graduated from Mount San Antonio Junior College and will have a License of Vocational Nursing. She and her family would also have time to plan the wedding.

I encountered the first glitch in our plans when I returned to duty Idaho. My Leading Petty Officer told me that I could not get leave in September, since someone else in the group already asked for leave in September. (Leave is military speak for vacation.) In fact, August was also taken. However, the man who had scheduled his leave for July moved to another crew. My supervisor suggested I take July off and go get married.

It was time to call Cindy. We agreed on July 7^th as our new wedding date.

The second glitch in our plans was the size of the wedding. My future in-laws could not afford a large wedding and insisted that the wedding be kept small. This would mean some people I would have wanted there could not be. My family was unhappy about this, but when they understood the situation, they backed off.

We had four weeks for a honeymoon, but not much money. We pooled our money together and bought camping equipment. The plan was to stay in a motel in Santa Barbara on our wedding night and then start a long camping trip, visiting Yosemite, the redwoods, the Oregon and Washington Coasts, Seattle, crossing Idaho and Montana to Yellowstone, and then finishing at our new home in Pocatello. It seemed like a good plan. After all, I had driven past a sign that says, “Lodging, next 17 miles,” every time I drove through Santa Barbara. (I believe that sign is still there.) Santa Barbara had thousands of motel rooms.

Cindy found a place, the Chapel of Roses, in West Covina, set up a time, and made reservations for a reception at an Italian restaurant. My part was to drive myself nine hundred miles, non-stop, from Pocatello, Idaho to my family’s house in La Puente.

I had been away from my hometown for almost three years, so most of the people I knew had moved on. My best friend, Jack Pyle, was back in town after two years in the Marines. He was the Best Man. The night before the wedding, he and one of my brothers tried to get me drunk. I had other things on my mind, so I pretty much stayed sober. On the wedding day, my brother and best friend were horribly hung over.

The wedding itself and the reception went off without a hitch. Cindy was beautiful in her white dress. When it came time to kiss the bride, the kiss was very passionate.

Sometime during the reception, Cindy and I sneaked off. But not soon enough. Busy hands, with lipstick, wrote “Just Married” on the rear window of my car and provided other decorations.

That night, we were newlyweds trying to get a room. I was shocked when the first motel proprietor told us that all of his rooms were taken. Furthermore, he doubted any motel in Santa Barbara had any vacancy. He did find us a room at another motel.

Our “honeymoon suite” was a two bed room in a one star hotel. We just laughed it off. She took the bed on the right and I took the bed on the left.  (Not. I just want the reader to pay attention.) We really did laugh at the situation. Neither one of us ever had a load of money. It turns out I had married a cheapskate…I mean a frugal person.

On July 8^th, we drove from Santa Barbara, through the central coast, into the central Valley and eventually into Yosemite National Park. By this time, we were getting tired and grouchy and low on gas. We were having an argument about something until we turned a corner. When I saw the view, I had to stop the car. We were at the overlook of the Yosemite Valley, one of the most magnificent mountain valleys anywhere. We admired the waterfalls as they tumbled from sheer cliffs on either side of the valley. Half dome was absolutely breathtaking. This view promises the first time visitor a great experience in the valley. The Yosemite Valley fulfills this promise.

We were lucky enough to find a camping spot just as the sun was setting. It was time to unpack our brand new tent. Did I ever mention that it gets dark fast in the mountains? Have you ever tried to set up a brand new tent, at night? While driving a car that still says “Just Married” on the rear view window? With a little bit of help, and flashlights, other campers helped us pitch our tent.

For the next four weeks, we spent a few days camping, one night in a motel room, and then more days camping. Cindy had never seen the redwoods and absolutely fell in love with Humboldt State Park. By the time we got to Yellowstone, we were running short on money. I still had some money in the bank in Pocatello, but ATM machines had not been invented yet. We spent enough time in Yellowstone to know we wanted to return.

This was a happy four weeks. We had this time all to ourselves. This was before the Inter-net had been invented. Personal computers and cell phones were still on the drawing boards. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, we had dropped off the place of the planet. When we arrived in Pocatello, we were broke and tired, but we were still very much in love.