A savings bond
The day after I got engaged, and stop me if I’ve told you this story before, my dad took off from work, and he and my mom took me shopping for a wedding dress. They were so excited that their zaftig daughter got engaged that they couldn’t wait to experience the magical joy of gown shopping.
Well, as most women know, sample sizes are not a friend of the zaftig woman. But, quite honestly, it was a great day. We went to all the fancy stores, and I tried on gowns, and I remember my dad just beaming. He was the perfect father of the bride.
And then there was Vera Wang, who pretty much said they had nothing for me there. Good times. Thank heavens for Bridals by Roma, of blessed memory, who put together the dress that my mom and I had been dreaming about. Bows, bows, and more bows. But they made it fit, and I felt like a beautiful, chubby princess. God bless Husband #1.
How was that 30 years ago?
No, really, how was that 30 years ago??????
Like everything in life, the bad times are hazed over (well, some things) and the good times are amplified in your memory.
My cousins Sarah and Bernard were like my surrogate grandparents. They even walked down my aisle. Bernard was related to my maternal grandmother, and they were the nicest, finest people, who never had children of their own. They were always so generous with their love, time, and money. For our wedding, they got us a $1,000 savings bond that they paid $500 for. By some miracle, through three moves, three children, construction, and the regular what-have-yous of living in a house, I never lost this savings bond. Honestly, it is a miracle, but the point is that every time I would re-find it, I would point out how many more years we had to stay married before we could cash said bond.
And, like all things in life, time marched on, and we arrived at July 2025. It was 30 years after the bond was originally purchased, and according to the bond, it was up for redeeming.
On the first day of July, I was hanging out with my Matzo Ball and his parents, but on the second day of July, I told Husband #1 that he should come with me to cash the bond (even though Bernard and Sarah had it made out in my name and I didn’t need him there, she said sarcastically).
I asked him where we should meet, and he said the bank in Englewood where we had opened our first joint account. That was the most romantic thing he ever suggested in all the years that we have been together. As a side note, not that you asked or are interested, the Bank of New York (which is now Chase) was the only bank that would take our wedding money without a marriage license. I have no idea why.
So Husband #1 and I agree to meet at the bank. And because I am me, I show up in my wedding dress. Yes, it still fits. That is the joy of never being thin. And the dress was stretchy. Husband #1 pulls into the parking lot, opens his window, and says, “There is no way I am going into the bank with you dressed like that.”
I just responded by saying, “There are so many bad things happening in the world, let’s make some people laugh.”
We walked into the bank and people started shouting “Congratulations!” We explained the situation, gave them the bond, were ready to take a picture to document the momentous occasion — and then we were told that they don’t cash bonds over $200 and we had to go online to fill out some form and send it in. What?!?!?!?!?!?!
Don’t worry, I found another bank that would cash it, and I was no longer wearing my wedding dress, and Husband #1 was back at work.
The folks at the bank were happy to help, and no one needed to take a picture. I took a few moments to think about what Sarah and Bernard had meant to me, another few moments to process how thankful I was, and hopefully will continue to be for my life, and then I wrote this column.
Hope you enjoyed it.
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is cautiously optimistic about being able to see Danish and her sister and her parents in a few weeks, Please God.
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