It's June, the wedding month. And brides contemplating nuptials in these recessionary times should not despair. I am living proof that even modest weddings can lead to happy marriages.
My wedding cost $120 in September 1986 in Knoxville, Tenn. Kiffen and I had just graduated from college. We wanted an adventure before adult responsibilities weighed us down, so we had applied to teach English in China through the International Department at the University of Tennessee.
We'd hoped to go together. But then we were told the Chinese didn't approve of unmarried American couples living and teaching together. I could go to Yellow Mountain in Anhui province, and Kiffen could teach at Hangzhou University. This seemed like a plan until the International Department informed us that Ningbo University in Zhejiang province needed two teachers and that, if we were married, they'd send us together. The administrator felt compelled to add a warning: "That's not, of course, a reason to get married."
We knew our desire to go together shouldn't push us into marriage, and neither of us was afraid of being alone. But we both thought the idea of being together in China was more appealing.
One friend advised us to elope: "Get married in Shanghai! It'll be so romantic." But a more practical friend warned: "An international marriage is way too complicated with paperwork."
We'd been living together for almost a year by then. Kiffen was the first boyfriend I'd had who cooked for me and walked my dog. We acted in plays together and made films. He worked the night shift at St. Mary's Hospital on the mental ward. I worked at a bookstore and taught voice and diction to agriculture majors, who had to spit out their plugs of tobacco to recite Shakespeare.
Like the Chinese, my Catholic parents did not approve of us living together before marriage. They responded to my long missive detailing our love and commitment and explaining our decision to cohabit with accusations and scarlet letters.
On the flip-side, Kiffen's mother completely supported our living arrangement. A widow and the mother of 13 children, she disapproved of early marriages. Frances, as all her children called her, thought that people who married young lost all drive and ambition. Wed too soon, she seemed to worry, and we might just kick back and eat pork rinds and boiled peanuts in east Tennessee for the rest of our lives.
