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A huge wedding was planned. 250 guests, four groomsmen and four bridesmaids, a hall and band rented. It was held on the first day of Spring Break, 1986, and we had the week to honeymoon at a secluded cabin in northern Wisconsin. At a very tame bachelor party the night before the wedding, I silently begged for anyone to give me a reason not to marry this girl... no one did and I succumbed to the expectations of church, family, and friends. I blew it off as pre-wedding jitters. During the ceremony Debbie and I were to light a unity candle. We went to the back of the altar, lit candles individually, went back up front, and in trying to light the unity candle, we pushed ours too close together, extinguishing them. What a sign of things to come! As nonchalantly as we could, we relit our candles and were able to light the unity candle on our second try. Years later, I watched a videotape of our wedding... Debbie's vows were loud and proud... mine were barely audible. Our first two years together were pleasant enough. We lived in her grandmother's old house, half a block over and half a block up from her parents. We saw her parents every single day for three years, also something I'd not suggest for prospective couples out there. Wait, it doesn't take a degree in mathematics to notice a discrepancy in the numbers there... two pleasant years, but three in that house? I graduated from UWSP in 1988 and thereafter began to hunt for my first teaching job. It didn't come. At the time there were plenty of math teachers in the state, and my employment search yielded only two interviews and no job for the year. I subbed at local schools over the 1988-89 school year, but it didn't bring in the money a full-time contract would have landed. Pressure grew in the house, and no relief came with her parents there constantly. Less than three years into the marriage, Debbie talked often of wanting to get divorced. |