By Alyssa Bormes
My parents got married in a quonset hut.
“Wow, how did that come up in your mind?”
I just drove to South Dakota; I pass a group of quonset huts used to raise turkeys.
“Turkeys? I thought this was going to be about your parents, not Thanksgiving?” I’ll give you both.
By the way, a quonset hut is a tube-like semi-circle building made of galvanized steel. In other words, it’s cheap to make, which makes it a great place to raise turkeys. “Did your parents get married in a turkey barn/quonset hut?”
Nope—they got married in a church, St. Peter in St. Cloud, Minnesota, and it was on Thanksgiving.
“You said they got married in a quonset hut.”
They did. The temporary church was a quonset hut, and they served turkey for dinner.
“Quonset huts, turkeys, and your parents’ marriage—is there a point you want to make?”
Let me give it a whirl.
Today, November 25th, would have been their 66th anniversary. Both the 25th and Thanksgiving day (no matter the date it falls), reminds me of my mom and dad. So does the day after Thanksgiving, which was the day in 1991 when my dad was in a car accident. He lived a week in a coma. They were married 37 years and 12 days before he died. It was a good marriage, a very good marriage.
Both today and tomorrow, I will turn the pages of their album in my mind. I will spiritually join them as I eat my turkey dinner. My act of Thanksgiving will be to thank them for their “I do’s,” both to each other and to their family. Sure, they got married in a place where others may see fit to raise turkeys, but the backdrop didn’t matter. Instead, the odd quonset hut church was the perfect place for them to enter the Sacrament of Marriage.