Alaska bride arrived in a canoe 37 years ago

FAIRBANKS — The day I got married, my dad gave me some great advice. I didn't follow it.

On that August morning 37 years ago, he said I should make sure to save copies of the wedding vows I exchanged with Debbie Carter, the photocopied invitations and all the other keepsakes from that day's festivities. "Women like that kind of thing and it will be important to you 10 years from now," he said.

I couldn't imagine 10 years. Ten days was a stretch. He also said he was afraid that I was like him in always anxiously thinking about the next task to get done, instead of fully appreciating the moment.

I'm afraid that a lifetime of jumping from one deadline to the next hasn't done much to boost my momentary appreciation.

But now I'm the same age he was the day he flew in to witness our wedding. Our three kids are older than we were.

Debbie and I celebrated Wednesday by telling each other how grateful we are for almost everything. People always say that life goes by so fast. I can't think of anything original to say about tempus fugit.

It would be nice to have a record of exactly what promises were made 37 years ago. We have the wedding certificate, witnessed by Terrence Cole and Michael Carey, and signed by 21 people in attendance, along with some pictures.

The wedding invitation must have made mention of friendship, because in a letter, Debbie's mom, Susan, wrote us after hearing the news. "You're on the right track, I'm sure. Unless one's love is also a friend, it's hard to see how a marriage could succeed," she said.

After the ceremony, Susan said the event was a "blend of the traditional and the unconventional, much like Debbie herself."

The traditional part included a ring exchange, a bouquet for the bride of wildflowers, a recitation of "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," and a ceremony performed by my brother, Pat, marriage commissioner for a day. I wore a tie. Debbie wore a dress purchased at J.C. Penney and a big hat.

A stranger wandering by that Saturday might have thought it was another impromptu potluck in Fairbanks with salmon, salads and Champagne. The bride's arrival in a 21-foot Grumman canoe was a bit unconventional.

Debbie was in the bow, wearing a life jacket over her wedding dress. Her dad, George Carter, refused to wear a life jacket, just his blue suit.

She could handle a paddle, but we didn't learn until later that George —  a hardy character who had hiked and hunted all over the Pacific Northwest — didn't know how to work a canoe. "I learned real fast," he said.

The river was as flat as a lake, suitable for any novice paddler. They launched the boat at the University Avenue bridge and it seemed to take them forever to get downstream to the Kowalski compound.

When Dr. Martha Kowalski, mother-in-law of my twin brother, learned of our wedding plans, she said she had always wanted to host a wedding in which the bride arrived by canoe and walked up the riverbank. She was so enthusiastic we had to agree.

We had no money, no supervision, no honeymoon, no idea about the future and no clue. For some years, we thought that the wedding took place Aug. 4, but the engraved cake knife Susan and George gave us still serves as the ultimate authority. It was Aug. 2, 1980.

At the time, we were working as newspaper reporters and spending every night building a 768-square-foot cabin. George, a laconic figure on any subject not related to hunting, told one of Debbie's brothers that it appeared we didn't have a plan for the house either. "They were just sort of it doing it as they went."

As we went, a lot of differences had to be worked out. I confess it took me more years than it should have to round off the sharpest of the rough edges.

A high school intern at the Daily News-Miner who had witnessed my behavior once told the police reporter for the paper, "I feel sorry for whoever is married to Dermot Cole."

"I'm married to him," she said.

In a similar vein, one of my sisters once referred to this one-sided bargain as me "winning the lottery."

As I searched for the wedding keepsakes we didn't keep, I did find a homemade card that Nancy Born, one of Debbie's lifelong friends, sent us wishing us a "happy day."

She quoted Epictetus, the Greek philosopher: "Nothing great is created suddenly, any more than a bunch of grapes or a fig. If you tell me that you desire a fig, I answer you that there must be time. Let it first blossom, then bear fruit, then ripen."

I will take a moment to appreciate that.

Columnist Dermot Cole can be reached at dermot@alaskadispatch.com. 

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