30 years ago today, these two jokesters got married.
They later turned into my parents, but they didn’t know how incredibly lucky they’d be at the time.
This weekend, my siblings and I descended on the fine city of Las Vegas to celebrate this momentous occasion with them. Because what other locale in the world epitomizes the lofty concepts of faithfulness, fidelity, and marital harmony so clearly as Vegas? Nowhere.
On the last night of our trip, we attended the requisite magic show that should rightfully accompany any good trip to Vegas. But not just any magic show. We saw the man, the legend, known as David Copperfield. You know, that dude that made the Statue of Liberty disappear. This is one sorcerer who doesn’t fuck around. Even Oprah says so:
At the end of his show, Copperfield brings about a dozen people on stage, seats them on a raised platform, does some fancy stuff, and makes them disappear. It’s a pretty remarkable slight of hand, one that I’d always imagined was accomplished through the participation of low-paid performers planted throughout the audience.
Not so. I know this definitively now because my father was one such participant. That’s right, this weekend I saw David Copperfield make my daddy vanish in a dramatic puff of smoke.
Of course he reappeared moments later at the back of the theater, waving a flashlight around with the blind pride of a toddler who’s just successfully taken a shit on the toilet. Oh, was he smug.
The point of this, really, boils down to that moment in the middle, when he was gone. When, I assume, he was floating through space as a bunch of glittery disassembled particles, like Mike Teevee in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I think it’s a true testament to my parents’ marriage that, even after 30 years, I know my mother actually hoped he’d return. That she must have experienced a moment, however brief, of fear that all was lost, her imagination conjuring a bleak, dull future without him in it. I know my mama well enough to know that, despite the wide-eyed look of awe plastered across her face, one thought only was running through her mind: Copperfield, if you don’t bring my husband back by the time I count to three, there will be hell to pay. That’s love right there.
Happy anniversary, you two. We love you more than words.