My parents got married and kept their names the same. This was an interesting thing that was hard for me to explain to my friends when I was growing up in New Jersey-- why they shouldn't call my mom Mrs. Baldwin and why they should call her Ms. Costich. . We moved to Ithaca when I was in middle school and there were a lot more moms who had chosen to keep their maiden name. When I was in high school my mom told me that my dads mother (Mimi, see above, in white) had heckled her secretly with letters for years, explaining with loopy cursive why my mother could and should still change her mind to become the next Mrs. Baldwin. My mother politely declined the advice.
I think a good caption for this photo would be 'and then the two remained two.' I've always thought the expression 'then the two became one' was a sort of horrible idea of what marriage should mean. Marriage might entail the melding of possessions and memories but, in this writer's opinion, shouldn't mean the eradication of individuality. I'm coming dangerously close to entering my diatribe about why I'm so fascinated by my parents lives before meeting one another as a feminist re-visioning of family history, so instead I'll just say, hooray for my parents! 25 years ago on June 18th they tied the knot and held on tight. Check out the death-grip my mom has on my dad's hand in this picture.
From the left, to the right:
Papa, Mimi, Dad-bo Baldwin, Momboda Costich, Grammy, Grampy