Today is our 45th Wedding Anniversary. Yikes. What is even more weird is that some of our close friends are celebrating their 50th this year. I mean, like, isn’t that for old people?

I remember my grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary. Although they lived in Florida, they came back “home” to Chicago to celebrate the event at Mayfair Bible Church. My Gramma made herself a gold dress and I got my first “store boughten” dress for the occasion. I was fifteen.

My Dad didn’t think he’d make it to their 50th after having a heart attack at age 58, so we celebrated their 45th with a special family weekend. They went on to celebrate their 50th, 55th and 60th, at which point I told him “no more parties.” They actually made it all the way to 66.

John’s parents did celebrate their 50th, but it was nine years into Mom’s journey with Alzheimers. When they wheeled Mom into the community room at the nursing home, I almost told them they had the wrong patient until I recognized her dress from one of the weddings. I cried through the whole party.

So, how did we–and our friends–get to this place? Why do we seem so much younger than our grandparents at that age? The gallery below is actually not quite fair since John and I are five years behind on the anniversaries, though the ages might not be so different. Gramma Freeberg was 19 when she married my grandfather. Mom was 20, and I was 23.