Tim Trainor

The advice I heard over and over again in advance of my wedding (completed successfully June 3!) was to do my best to remember it.

People warned that there’d be so many people to greet — and songs to dance to — that it would come and go in a flash and both bride and groom would be left with a blur of memories that only get hazier as the anniversaries roll on.

Of course, they were right. And, of course, there is nothing you can do about that. All those things you’re supposed to “try hard to remember” — childhood or high school or the details from a first date — slip out of the present and into the past no matter how hard we concentrate and appreciate the moment.

My wife (eek!) and I pulled off a traditional rural Oregon wedding. We gathered at her family’s wheat farm outside Pendleton the night before, sent some folks off to the Helix Rodeo the morning of the wedding, and got married in downtown Pendleton above an old saddle shop. The ceremony itself was simple and lovely and included readings from some our favorite poets. Pals sang ditties from Lucinda Williams and John Prine. A friend who got ordained online made our pact a legally binding one. Afterward, folks bought us cans of Rainier across the street at The Rainbow, Oregon’s oldest tavern, before we called it a night.

It wasn’t perfect. A lot of my brilliant wedding ideas got nixed in the planning process.

I wanted one chair in the reception hall to have a big red “X” underneath it, and whoever sat there — no matter who — would get thrown out. I also wanted a moment at the apex of the ceremony where the emcee paused and asked the crowd if anyone else would like to come up and get married alongside us, right then and there! Who knows what excitement could have happened? That idea too was nixed by my bridezilla, who clearly doesn’t recognize the value of improvisational theatre.

Afterward, we escaped to Wallowa Lake with extended family who flew in from the Midwest. They were understandably gobsmacked by the mountains and the streams and the glory of Oregon. Purportedly, the lakeside cabin was supposed to be a relaxing wind down to all the wedding hullabaloo, but with that many people tagging along the complications and fun continued unabated.

No matter how you do it, we all hope to make a wedding a once-in-a-lifetime thing. And no matter how good the idea of eloping sounds — and no matter the money you save by going that route — the blur of memories from your wedding can provide a lifetime of happiness. Till death do us part.