July 5th dawned cold and windy. It soon became apparent that a beach wedding, actually holding the wedding ceremony on the beach would be impractical. It wasn’t even clear if the wedding would be held outdoors or if we would instead all have to crowd into the old cabin and have the ceremony indoors. I remember that we went back and forth on that one for a while. In the end we took our vows in the lee of the cabin, on its front steps or the back ones depending upon which way your head is turned around. We stood together right about where the toilet is now in the new addition. Well, it’s been thirty-six years and our marriage hasn’t gone down the crapper yet. After the ceremony, during the reception, the wind subsided, the sun came out, just before it set and it actually warmed up quite nicely. I remember going down to the beach, at least for some wedding photos and it was quite nice out there. The reception was grand and we both wished that we could have stayed at our party longer, but tradition back then dictated that we had to go away for our honeymoon. I learned later that what we had had is now called a destination wedding. As delightful as it was, calling it that seems a mite pretentious now.