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Philly Girl 67

The Wedding: Before and After

In 1982, Dennis and I decided to get married. He had been
living and working in Saudi Arabia. He came back to San
Francisco, and to me, a changed man. He learned that it was
futile to advise, push, nag, or even suggest anything to me,
unless he could completely disguise it. He was wily about
this. He had given much thought to our past failures and
was determined to save me from my worst self. We started
running together.
Among other things, he decided to quit smoking, a pre-
condition on my side for our getting back together. He did
it cold turkey when we vacationed in Tahiti shortly after we
reunited. He sweated out tobacco and coughed up green
gook. But we walked and swam and snorkeled and ate crois-
sants and drank fabulous French coffee. He has not touched
a cigarette since.
By now, we were living together, and we planned to have
a wedding in our own backyard. We planted grass and some
trees, rented some folding chairs, and invited 50 of our friends
and his parents and mine—meeting now for the first time.
He built a special ramp to transport his wheelchair-bound
mother on the day of the wedding. We hired a rabbi—he
looked like Moses!—who was willing to marry a Jew and a
(lapsed) Catholic.
I was still dancing—always dancing—in a class called
Rhythm and Motion, developed by professional dancers for
people like me—nonprofessionals who simply love to dance.
The music always had a great beat, the class was fun, and I