I Spent My Wedding Night with My Dad and Uncle—and My Husband Was Totally Cool With It

My husband, Reginald, and I were married on July 24, 1948, at a little stone church in Castleton-on-Hudson, New York. It was a lovely summer day, and the ceremony and the reception went beautifully. For our honeymoon, we had planned to spend a week at Indian Lake in the Adirondacks, where my husband’s family had a camp.

Unfortunately, we didn’t own a car, so my Uncle Paul volunteered to drive us to the lake, accompanied by my dad. We set off at 5 that afternoon with my two relatives in tow.
It was close to 8 when we arrived at the lake and, by then, everyone was quite hungry. We went to Farrell’s, the only restaurant in Indian Lake. When we left, it was past 9 and we still had a distance to go down the long drive to the camp.

Everything was dark when we pulled in, and we had to get the electricity and plumbing up and running. Then we unpacked our bags and put away the groceries. By then it was 11 p.m.

I worried about the men driving on the roads at night, so I suggested to my new husband that perhaps my Uncle Paul and Dad should spend the night and drive back in the morning. My husband readily agreed—he and my dad were very close. And that’s how we spent our wedding night with my dad and Uncle Paul.