Lucky 35

"We are not going back!" scream all my Facebook friends who have already voted or are about to, clever folks saying things like, "I love the smell of victory in the morning!"

"We are NOT going back to "The Handmaids Tale" say all my feminist friends who have already posted photos of themselves in the scarlet robes and white lampshades on their heads, even those who never read the book or watched the Emmy-winning series.

"We are not going back  to 1939!" say my bold friends after the MSG debacle, who must  know the Hitler comparison is a controversial one. 

"We ARE going back!" I scream, and before you unfriend me or egg my car, let me add, "to this date.. in 1989."

It was thirty five years ago today that I woke up filled with love and optimism. Jim was in the bedroom next door, in the house of a member of our wedding party, who had loud, drunken guests who stayed downstairs 'til after midnight, not that I would have slept a wink anyway.

My BFF Rochelle, my beautiful Matron of Honor who'd change into her gorgeous deep maroon  gown in a few hours, dropped me off at Temple Beth Ami, where I'd be getting ready to make the second most important decision of my life. 

 (The first was made at the voting booth a few days ago)

My mother was already there, crying, knowing that my brother Steven would be walking me down the aisle that my college friend Jim had decorated so beautifully, knowing that it was something my Dad should have been doing.

(Walking me down the aisle..not decorating it, God no!  Every pew would have been decorated with memorabilia from the Philadelphia Flyers)

Jim and I were huddled off into a side room, to sign the certificate that recognized our union under Jewish law. I heard the hush outside..the hush of the gathering crowd, and the sounds of Jeanette DiMeo's magnificent voice, as she sang "One Hand, One Heart"(from West Side Story) and "The Last Time I Felt Like This" (From "Same Time, Next Year) and her stunningly beautiful original piece, "Sparks."

Her voice dimmed, the crowd quieted, and  my friend Jim was ready to cue the music and the choreography  as the processional began on that aisle he had just decorated so beautifully. The rabbi began his walk, followed by Jim's brother Bill, the Best Man, followed by a teary Jim and his parents. I was behind the partition but witnessed everything..all my bridesmaids and Jim's groomsmen.  My brother Bruce walked my  sobbing mom, with my nephew Scott between them, the ring bearer who clutched the pillow so tightly to his chest that one didn't even know it was a  pillow. The music swelled and Rochelle walked solo as my Matron of Honor, the bestest best friend in the world, who has been even "bestier" these last few weeks.  The congregation broke into laughter then, as my flower girl Stephanie began to walk. She wasn't even two yet(and now she's the mother of four!) and even 'though she was well-rehearsed, she got a little addled and wound up in front of the bima, tightly clutching a single flower..but with grit and determination.

The laughter turned into tears as Steven escorted me next, to the most beautiful song of all from that gorgeous music selected  by my friend Jim , the magnficent score from "Out of Africa,"

The song was called, "You Are Karen"...and I was. I was Karen, who would be moments away from being Karen Levson-Amster.

Lots happened after Jim broke the glass and the crowd shouted "mazel tov!" at the reception,  but that's a blog for another time.

Even 'though I woke up today to a sinkful or his breakfast dishes, and a sweet bag of candy and a card signed, " Crab Sandwich"--an inside joke-- my heart is full and my optimism is high.

We will officially l celebrate a month from now, on a cruise, and we'll celebrate every day until Michelle and Evan get married, and they can capture their  memories like I did here.

Thanks for all the good wishes and indulging me as I travel back in time.

But let's hope America gives us the best anniversary gift ever, a mere twelve hours from now.

Thanks for making my world, Jim Amster!