Click Here To Learn More About Jinny Anderson

I just got back from Nova Scotia where I took part in the nuptials of my lovely daughter and the absolutely wonderful man she has married. They live in a picturesque little town on the eastern coast of the province that is to die for and looks like something out of a fairy tale. The wedding was an informal, fun, and fabulous affair.
My son, Chuck, his friend Eddie, who is like one of my own, and I drove all day to get there which was somewhat exhausting but worth every minute of the trip. The following day was spent working hard to decorate and ready the venue but we had lots of help from their many and wonderful friends. Between the two of them they have more old, close, and loving friends than anyone I have ever known and seeing the girls with whom she grew up and are now spread far across the country was a joy for me, particularly since I remember them being very young and lots of fun. The friends that she has made since leaving home turned out to be as fabulous as the ones she has had for years. I loved them all.
The day of the wedding dawned so beautifully and so perfectly that was almost miraculous. Nova Scotia had, like Maine, suffered from several weeks of intense heat, crushing humidity, and heavy rains, but the weather had changed and we had clear blue skies, no humidity, comfortable temperatures and a lovely sea breeze during the entire time we were there. It was amazing. I could not have ordered better weather. It was not a large wedding, only 60 some people, the majority of whom were family. When the moment came, my daughter, who is stunning on any day, was an absolute vision. Her attendants were beautiful, her fiancé was incredibly handsome, and all his groomsmen looked like an advertisement for the epitome of youthful male vitality. The ceremony was brief, but moving but the biggest moment was when they spoke the vows they had written.
All my kids inherited the ability to put words together well, and my daughter outdid herself with her vows. Her speech was not overly sentimental or sappy, it had moments of delightful humor, but it was so beautiful and so heartfelt that there was not a dry eye in the place. At one point I looked up and was not surprised to see all her attendants crying, the surprise came when I realized that the groomsmen were all watering up, the groom was crying, the lovely lady marrying them was wiping away tears, and everyone in attendance, both male and female, were either sniffling or dabbing at their eyes. The mass crying was a testimony to the beauty of her words and the love, devotion, and joy they communicated. Everyone cried.
The reception was a joyful and loving affair and brought me my proudest moments. As I talked with the many close friends of the couple I came to understand the deep love and devotion that my daughter and son-in-law have inspired in the people close to them. There was nothing artificial or obligatory in how people spoke of them, it was all totally natural and from the heart. When I talked to the family of the groom I discovered how completely and fully they love her and have welcomed her into their hearts as one of their own I confess that I was overwhelmed with pride in her and selfishly gratified that I had raised someone who could inspire such warmth and love in others. I couldn't help thinking that if I had even the smallest part in raising her to be a person who is so loved, then I did something right.
The trip home seemed to take far less time than the trip there for some reason, as it always does. As much as we love Nova Scotia, and as much as I will miss my daughter and her new husband and wish we had time to get to know his wonderful family better, we were glad to be home. The nicest part is that I can relax in the certain knowledge that if I had hired Pinkerton men to search the world or paid mountains of money I could not have found nor bought a more perfect man for my daughter. Fate is a funny thing. They grew up across the Gulf of Maine from each other but had to go clear across the continent to California to meet. It must be kismet after all.

Would you like to read past issues of That's Life? Click Here