What is there about the marriage of two elders that has a wonderful feeling of hope to it? My oldest brother, who is over 70, just got married. Both he and his new wife had lost their spouses several years ago and were friends living in the same town. The wedding was held in the Meeting House that I was married in, but I trust their marriage will fare much better than mine.

We four sisters got there fairly early and ended up greeting people as they came up the steps to enter the church. Lo and behold, our last surviving uncle arrived, getting slowly out of the big rig that his wife drove up to the church door. He labored with his cane and his 96-year-old body to climb the flight of stairs that led to the second floor sanctuary.

I commented that, considering the age of the friends that would be attending, they sure picked difficult places to have both the wedding and the reception. Both required climbing stairs and had no handicapped-assistance of any kind...that is, none other but the strong arms of friends and family.

There was a sweetness as my nephew dug the rings out of his jacket pocket to pass to my brother, his father, and a chuckle when he had a little difficulty. And applause as the ceremony concluded.

The reception was in the big Town Hall, the home of square dances during my teen-aged years. As we sisters were sitting in the double wooden chairs that lined the walls, I couldn't help but remember the feeling of longing from years ago when I waited for someone to ask me to dance. If it was a square dance, even standing up with Crazy Richard would do because at least I'd swing partners with three other fellows.

After nearly every one had gone home from the reception, the d.j. finally started playing music loud enough to dance to, and three of us sisters and the bride and groom rocked around the floor. My brother is still a great dancin' man.

About ten years ago I wrote a poem which came from the memory of the Town Hall and the suppers that were held there.

THREE WOMEN

when I was a child
      there was the Grange
           and the Ladies' Aid

my mother, Bertha, was a Granger
      plain and simple
           with no money for the style
              of the Ladies' Aid teas

she and Maude and Lois
      created the wonderful suppers
           that paced each year
              from strawberries to harvest

young girls came of age
     when they waited tables
          gently flirting with the men
               whose wives were tasting food
                         they hadn't cooked

Maude made the best rolls
     mother used her recipe
          and became chief roll-maker
          after Maude died

Lois could make most everything else
     her talents reached to teach
          every 4-H girl how to cook

three women
     still live in my hands
          as I knead and shape
               the rolls they baked

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