By 300 Sandwiches
E and I finally picked a date. We picked it because the venue we were looking at was available on that date. We picked it because it was the the tail end of spring, when the weather has already turned consistently warm and nights are no longer enveloped by frosty breezes, but right before the summer sun becomes strong enough to turn New York City into a furnace.
We picked it because kids would be out of school in the Midwest, and family and close friends would be able to travel without pulling little ones out of class.
It’s right after Memorial Day, which families often used for vacations and personal travel, which we didn’t want to compete with. But it’s also before summer is really in full swing, before people start disappearing on Fridays to jet off to the lake or the Hamptons or the country, and will not be forced to cut short treasured summer leisure time to attend our wedding.
It’s a date with repetition that neither E nor I would ever forget, that fell in between his birthday, my birthday, Christmas, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and the day we met, so to not to compete with any other holidays.
We thought we’d chosen wisely. We were ready to send out save the dates. Until a photographer friend of ours pointed out last night that our date, June 6, was D-Day.
Wow. Uncomfortable silence. Hadn’t thought about that. I didn’t know how to respond.
We knew we’d get some flack because we were choosing a number so close to Satan’s number, 666. But since it will always be broken up with another number, for example 6/6/15 or 6/6/16 or 6/6/25 or 6/6/37, we really wouldn’t have to worry about that ol’ superstition until we reached 6/6/66. At that time, E and I will be in our mid-80s. If we’re still married by then, we will have dispelled any bad omens from 666 anyway. But I wondered if it was disrespectful to get married on D-Day.
E and I thought about moving the date. Well, I thought about moving the date. But E declined. “Why should we? It’s our day now!” he said.
I guess any day any couple picks—July 4, December 31, the last weekend in May, November 12, October 8 through October 10—could be considered a holiday somewhere. Fourth of July. New Year’s Eve. Memorial Day. Charles Manson’s birthday. The days of the Great Chicago Fire. The anniversary of your Cocker Spaniel’s death. But it doesn’t mean you have to celebrate all of them. I mean, my office doesn’t celebrate President’s Day, though the majority of the workforce has the day off.
I still don’t know what the proper response is to someone pointing out your wedding date falls on a not so happy holiday. But I know we’re creating a new holiday. Our own holiday. Our wedding, our day.
And so, we give you our save the date: June 6, 2015.
There. Let’s get this party started.by