Quite A Day

Dear Diary:

It was 1945. We wanted to be married. I was 19. I saw a picture of a bride in a wedding gown. I wanted to do that.

We had one week. He was on furlough. His father’s office had phones. We used them to invite guests. We were married with 100 family and friends and a fancy dinner at the Ambassador Hotel on Park Avenue.

He was in uniform. I was in a bridal gown that a salesperson had grabbed from someone else’s future order.

It was Aug. 12, 1945. The wedding festivities were winding down when the ballroom doors burst open. People crowded in, shouting, crying, laughing, whispering: The war was over.

The band started playing again. Drinks were on the house. People were kissing and hugging. Some were praying.

The war was over.

New York Times gift link