Amongst women

I went to a wedding shower on Sunday. Yes, during this grim winter of ice and layoffs and angst, there is joy: a friend is getting married.

This was not the silly shower of a giggling 20-something (though it is the bride's first marriage, and the groom's). This was a gathering of grown women--warm, wise, funny women, and a bride straight out of Jane Austen: She has been deeply interested in her friends' love lives, she has been a bridesmaid many times over, she has dated her share of Mr. Collinses (as she said, to great laughter). And now it is her turn.

She is beyond happy, and her happiness spilled out and was a gift to all of us.

The party was in a big sunny room in a comfortable house; there was food and champagne and raspberries and flowers and presents. (And chocolate; of course; did you have to ask?) Mostly, there was laughter, and the kind of comfortable-in-their-skin feeling of women who have done a lot, endured a lot, and have come to love who they are.

One of the bridal gifts was a keepsake book, with entries from each of us giving advice on a happy marriage. It reflected the complexity of the group: some of us are happily unmarried women, some are divorced, some have marriages that have not always been particularly happy. Some have recently had babies; some have struggled with infertility; some have gone through the hot flashes and crankiness of menopause.

And consequently the advice to the bride was rich and wise, funny and serious, honest and optimistic. It was advice steeped in experience, marinated in benevolence.

The bride's mother was at the shower, too, come from four states away to share in the joy. She, too, had advice for her daughter (and a present: a lacy, slinky, black silk nightie, which caused the bride to giggle and blush like--well, like a bride).

More than anything, I was struck by the good will in the room. Parties of newspaper people (or ex-newspaper people) usually involve a lot of alcohol, a lot of grousing, a lot of bitterness, a lot of flirting, a lot of backbiting. I used to love those parties when I was young and cynical--their drama and mystery and dark corners of the room.

This party was all light. All women, all celebrating. No competition, no snippiness.

There were hugs--I haven't been hugged so many times since my own wedding. And laughter. Oh, so much laughter. In nearly every picture, women are laughing--heads thrown back, mouths open, bodies bent over from giddiness.

A toast! To the bride. To happiness. To laughter. To the future. To women.