It was a cold, dreary, rainy afternoon on
November 13, 1993. 28 year-old Bobbi McFarlen would become my wife (Mrs. Robert
Kinker) at Fellowship Baptist Church in Columbus, OH, after 1:30pm on that
Saturday.
Most weddings have their peculiar, annoying,
and tearful moments. It had been decided that a manger scene would be set up on
the front left side of the auditorium for the church’s annual Christmas pageant,
which was almost a month away. (My family was founding members of the church
since it began on February 28, 1965 at Shady Lane Elementary in Columbus, OH.
Shouldn’t my bride-to-be and I been given a little special attention?)
Both of our fathers were not present at
our wedding though we wanted them to be. They had both passed away before we
were engaged.
My father, Robert Eugene Kinker, had been
killed in an automobile accident on June 24, 1978. (I was 14, and he was 42.)
My father-in-law, Donald Ray McFarlen, died of cancer on November, 24, 1991.
(He was 53, and Bobbi was 26.)
As a thirty year-old man, I had looked
very handsome in my off-white tuxedo (with tails), Bobbi had been an angelic
vision of beauty in her tailor-made ivory gown. This was a day neither one of
us would forget for a variety of reasons. We’d left the church in our wedding
finery in a white stretch limousine to go to The Great Southern Hotel to relax
and change our clothes. (My younger sister, Kim, followed with our car.)
Several hours later the gift opening
was at my sister’s house. During this time, I ate (and drank) large amounts of
the left-over sweet stuff from our wedding. It should have been unlawful for a
non-medicated Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder (ADHD) adult male to do
this.
By the time we reached our destination
in downtown Columbus (in 1993 The Great Southern Hotel; in 2015 the Columbus
Westin), I was high on the sugary side of life. I was irritated that my bride
(who’d only recently moved to Columbus for me) had passed up the hotel.
Turning down the next street, I wanted
out of the car. I could have cared less the car was in the middle of the road
of a one way street. The click/unclick game I was now playing with Bobbi, the
driver, was no fun at all.
In a state of total frustration, Bobbi
pulled onto a one-way street the wrong direction. She quickly turned into the
large empty parking lot right behind The Great Southern Hotel.
By the time we finally arrived there,
it was night. My new bride needed to learn a lesson in who was in charge in
this marriage rather quickly. (After over twenty years of marriage, I now know
who is in charge, and it isn’t me. I appreciate the times she allows me to
experience the illusion of being in control in our marriage.)
With my wife tearfully pleading
“Robert, where are you going?” I angrily marched to the front of The Great
Southern Hotel (Bobbi had the room key). I asked the attendant at the front desk
for another key card.
I told him my wife was out driving
around. (Could he believe that I was alone when he’d seen us as a happy couple enter
the hotel hours earlier in our wedding attire?) I went to the room, undressed,
turned out the lights, and tried to go to sleep in the comfortable king-size
bed.
Back to my new bride, Bobbi realized I
wasn’t returning. I had our last seven dollars and the parking ticket for our
car in my pants pocket. Bobbi had grown up in Rowland Heights, CA (about thirty-five
miles outside of Los Angeles). Going for a stroll at night was not safe or advisable.
Bobbi was getting angry as she worried
about whether I’d been A-Mugged.
B-Taken a bus back to our townhome,
C-Was waiting in the lobby for her.
(I chose none of the above, and went
with option D instead)
D-Take a little nap before the bridal
tornado arrived.
By the time, Bobbi had arrived to the
lot to park with our car, my bride was sobbing to the point of not being
understood clearly by the attendant. Even without a parking pass, she was waved
through. He knew exactly what he needed to do.
As Bobbi was walking in front of the
building, she saw a newly married couple in their ceremonial finery. This
caused more hurtful emotions in my lovely woman. (This was supposed to be her-happy
and in love.)
By the time she entered our dark room,
the lights quickly went on. I heard the phrase, “You’ve got to be kidding! What
on earth are you doing faking that you are sleeping? I know you’re awake.”
For the next two hours, Bobbi was not
successful in quitting the smoking habit she was trying to break. Her truthful,
creative language skills on me were evident as she told me exactly what she
thought of my disrespectful, adult temper tantrum.
If you are engaged to get married,
please make sure your honeymoon night is special for the right reasons. Make
sure you are well rested, and on all prescribed medications. This way you can
be the best version of you possible.Trust each other.
After all, both of
you have committed yourselves (before God and those present at the wedding) to
spend the rest of your life together. If possible, do your best to make this
person your closest friend.
As a couple, you’ll experience so much
together. Enter this world with your hearts and minds wide open to the
Almighty’s best for both of you. This is only the beginning of a victorious
marital union.  |
| Kinkers cutting wedding cake |
 |
| Honeymoon week in Washington DC |
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