Sasee Magazine

When Grandma was 17, she climbed out of her bedroom window, in the middle of the night, wearing as many of her clothes as possible. She was running away to marry the orphaned, farmer boy she had fallen in love with but knew her parents would never approve of. The year was 1933, and the country was still reeling from the effects of the Great Depression. They had barely a nickel to rub together but none of that mattered, they were love struck. Besides, they felt blessed; not only did Grandpa have a job, but they already had a place to stay, albeit the chicken coop at the farm where he worked. Money was scarce, and a honeymoon was out of the question, so after a humble ceremony, they dashed to the drugstore, hopped up on the stools, scraped together the few coins they had, and celebrated by ordering the ultimate splurge – a single, root-beer float with two straws – it was their wedding day after all.

As the years progressed, they worked hard, lived modestly, and raised two beautiful daughters. The days when they wondered how they would put food on the table became a thing of the past, and they were even able to tuck away a little something for those “special” occasions if they wanted. As their lives continued to flourish, their ability to splurge on these special occasions also increased; however, when it came to celebrating their anniversary, it was never about the money. They neither needed nor wanted expensive gifts or fancy meals. Instead, every year, for over 50 years, these teenage, then middle-aged, then older-aged lovebirds celebrated their special day by going out for – you’ve guessed it – root-beer floats.

My husband and I have never experienced the harsh realities and challenges that our grandparents faced. Even though when we first met, most of what we owned could fit in our cars, life has blessed our marriage with good luck, good jobs and a modest yet comfortable life. We have celebrated countless special occasions together – birthdays, anniversaries, Christmases and Valentine Days – which means we have also bought and given each other a dizzying array of presents. We recently celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary however, and were humbled by what we realized about love, special occasions and money.

We chose to spend our anniversary evening at home with a bottle of wine, some bread, cheese and pesto, and two large shoe boxes full of all the cards and letters we had given each other over the years. (Being the sentimentalist that I am, not only did I keep all these, but after the “occasion,” I would also write on the back the date, what we did, and what we bought each other etc.) Throughout the evening, we reached into the box and, one-by-one, pulled out a memory. It was like playing the lottery where every number’s a winner. One card might be from a birthday three years ago, another might be a letter from our courting days. We would then read each message and spend the next 20 minutes laughing, crying and savoring where it took us. It was one of the most magical evenings we have ever had, and it cost next to nothing.

We reflected on the many gifts we had bought each other, most of which we appreciated – the camera tripod; some of which we didn’t – my first sports bra; and others we simply had zero recollection of. Throughout the evening, one thing became blaringly obvious: The celebrations and gifts we most remembered and cherished were the ones that had little or nothing to do with money.

Much as I’m sure we ate the chocolates, played the CDs, read the books, wore the clothes (okay, not all of them) and enjoyed all the novelty gifts and romantic dinners out that we have shared, these weren’t on the forefront of our minds.

I remember him getting up at 4:30 am one birthday to bake me a cake before I woke up. He remembers the letter I wrote to the president of his favorite fast-food company for his 30th birthday and the company tie and coupons he got in return. I remember us being on vacation with several couple friends in Myrtle Beach, S.C., and, without any embarrassment as to what his golfing buddies might think, he got up early and carved “I love you” in 30-foot letters in the sand. He still gushes about the collection of memories I put together for him for his 50th birthday.

It is not uncommon for couples to start out with little, and we were no different. Ironically, the “early years” even represent that carefree time in many couples’ lives when material possessions were few, responsibilities were minimal, and life was simple – yet fun. My husband and I have since owned the house, worked the corporate jobs and enjoyed “the stuff,” but sometimes I wonder if we weren’t just as happy when we rented, drove “beaters” and got paid by the hour.

Nowadays, we need less and want less. If we do buy each other gifts, they are more “token” gifts than big-ticket items. We prefer to invest in gifts we can either share or eat – a day at the Zoo, a night at the theater or a bottle of wine that costs more than five dollars. We have learned that money may make the world go around, but it doesn’t guarantee the best gifts, celebrations or memories. I suspect what took us years to figure out, Grandma and Grandpa knew all along.

Unfortunately they are no longer with us to ask, but I wonder if any of the root beer floats they drank in their later, more comfortable, years were as romantic, delicious or memorable as the single float they shared as penniless teenagers on their wedding night.

Somehow I think I already know.