"The Very Hint of Eternity."

Today was our 28th anniversary. I got it wrong in church last Sunday, when I told everyone we'd be celebrating our 29th and, unlike that other commoner 29th occurrence, we planned on continuing the count after next year.  No matter. We've already crossed over into extraordinary territory, and what's a year here and there?

This was also the first time in a number of years that it fell on a Saturday, as it did the year we done doo'd it. The main road nearest our home has had construction hell on it for a week or so, which detoured me into the nearby village on my assorted errands of earlier in the day.  Part of that roundabout route goes through Glen Park, a lovely quiet spot with flora and waterfall which is a well-known spot for wedding parties to assemble at before or after their wedding ceremonies. On both of my runs through there today, I saw either brides and maids in constraining outfits, or van-sized limos bringing the whole assembly over for the photo shoot.

We didn't have that.  We did have bees- and a later-afternoon Bridezilla who wanted the sanctuary cleared for HER PERFECT GODDAM DAY- but no waterfalls, except of tears of joy.

Some more tears came, at least close to, tonight, as we listened to our service's CD for probably the 20th-something time.  The disk version is fairly new (the church gave us a cassette, which is still in the strongbox), and tonight's playback of all 25 tracks was the first time ever we listened to it through my phone plugged into various output devices, but the words remain strong, and meaningful, and the joy and sadness going to eleven on the audio and our minister's phrase of marriage bringing us to "the very hint of eternity" seeming even more right.

I've roughly kept track over the years as to which Participants in the Service and Events we've outlasted. All three of our then-living parents are departed; my oldest sister barely lived to our first anniversary.  We outlived our reception hall (now a private home), the rehearsal dinner venue (now the Yummy Garden Asian place in Henrietta), the cake baker (unknown), and the marriage of one of Eleanor's still-good friends to the guy who made our rings.  The official photographer is lost in the shuffle; the RIT student who begged to come in and shoot it for a class project days before the wedding, who got some of the best candids of the day, is still in touch with me, barely, on Facebook; she doesn't post, but her birthday was a few days ago, so I'm always reminded of her this time of year.

That leaves the service itself.  Our minister retired this past June after 34 years in a single Methodist pulpit, a Cal Ripkenesque accomplishment; the organist is long retired; and we just learned of the passing, just last year, of the amazing soloist who graced our wedding with Bernstein and the Lord's Prayer:



Robinson, Carol M.

Fairfax, VA: Age 67, of Fairfax, VA, passed away peacefully on February 9, 2014 after a year-long battle with cancer. Born September 11, 1945, she was the daughter of Rosalie Murphy Robbins and F. Andrew Murphy of Canajoharie, NY. Carol was a 1963 graduate of Canajorharie High School and attended SUNY Fredonia before moving to Rochester and receiving her bachelor's degree from Nazareth College. Carol lived most of her life in Rochester before relocating to Madison WI in 1994. In 2007 she moved to Fairfax where she worked for George Mason University. She is survived by her loving husband Peter Barcher and her brother Drew Murphy of Seattle, WA.

Carol was a life-long lover of music and was well known as an opera and oratorio soloist in upstate New York. She was a frequent performer with the Rochester Oratorio Society, Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra, Opera Theatre of Rochester, Opera Under the Stars as well as several other regional choral and orchestra


Learning this tonight made us sad; but hearing her voice, and knowing those 1's and 0's will abide with us forever, made us happier.