July 11, 2010 by wcobserver
By Susan McCarthy,
Last week, our photographer, Brooke McNeely got married to a great guy, Larry Galligan. We’ll have more details on the wedding, soon, but the event started a discussion about wedding bands and how there is an adjustment period for a new husband to get used to wearing one.
On Tuesday, my husband and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. Our rings are not as shiny as they once were, but we can report that we both still have our original wedding bands. My husband has “bragging rights” on this subject, because many husbands cannot produce their original wedding band. Things happen. My Dad lost his wedding band in Tahiti on a business trip and replaced it without anyone knowing until years later when my brother was getting married and asked my Dad if he could have his ring. It’s a good thing my brother didn’t take the ring; he ground-up his wedding band in the garbage disposal while washing dishes. Ask any husband and most have a ring story, my husband included.
He’s lost his ring, too, quite a few times. As I was writing this, he laughed and said, “All I know is it’s on and you can’t dispute that!” He makes a good point. For the first years we were married, my husband would rub his thumb over his wedding band during quieter moments. Once we were seated in the back of a movie theater and all of a sudden, we heard “cling”… silence…” cling”…silence, “cling-cling-cling-cling.” I didn’t even have to ask; it had happened so many other times, but the movie theater was a first. His thumb had flicked the ring right off his finger and it clinked as it bounced some 30 rows down to the front of the theater. After the movie, we rushed to the front of the theater to search along the bottom rows, combing through popcorn, candy wrappers, and empty soda cups to reclaim his ring.
Strangers have returned his ring after it has rolled loose in restaurants and airplanes.
My favorite loss was when the ring was flicked from his finger while driving his truck home in rush-hour traffic in Chicago. He’d been traveling for a week for work and was on his way home from the airport. The ring didn’t go far, but it did disappear into the steering column without a trace. When he arrived home, he explained what happened and of course we had to laugh because this was just another time the ring had had a “fling.”
My husband tried on more than one occasion to rescue his ring from the column. He even spent a Saturday crouched under the steering column, neck craned upward, tools in hand, but was unsuccessful in even seeing the ring, never mind getting the ring out. The next time the truck went in for service he told the dealership they could save his marriage if they could spring the ring. They explained that would involve removing the steering column and set him back about $300. He passed, thankfully.
Then one day, about two years later and totally out of the blue, he was driving alone among roads lined with cornfields when the ring dropped right into his lap. Just like that the ring was back on his finger.
Somehow the ring has endured and also somehow our marriage has, too. The ring, like our marriage, reflects a journey; each single day has turned into a week that has spun into a month that has tallied as a year. Twenty five years later, we’re still clinking along. We wish Brooke and Larry all the best as they adjust to their new rings and marriage!
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