The Good and Bad Behind Marriage in June

By Herbert L. Vego

IF you know of spouses who purposefully married in June, have you asked them why?

They must have answered, “June brings prosperity, abundance, and love.”

Indeed, throughout history and across different cultures, June has been associated with prosperity, abundance, and love. In the Philippines, where traditions and beliefs play a significant role in daily life, fiancées embrace the notion of being a “June bride” with enthusiasm.

For a little bit of history, the Roman Empire initiated the tradition in honor of Juno, the goddess of marriage, over 2,000 years ago. There was a practical side to it though: A marriage in June could result in a conception early enough so that the baby would be born soon enough for mother to be in shape for the next harvest.

Indeed, in pre-contraceptive Europe, getting married in June meant that children conceived from June unions would be born the following spring, increasing their chances of survival after the long – and often very lean – winter months.

In my case, I married in June to appease my fiancée, whose wish was to be a June bride

I had not intended to marry so early. As a 22-year-old entertainment reporter and ghost writer for a daily newspaper columnist in Manila in 1972, I had barely saved enough money for a wedding. In fact, my parents had warned me against early marriage because it would sap my financial resources and derail my career advancement.

But such was the force of my libido, to be candid, that I convinced myself into believing that a second mouth to feed would be no problem.

Though my GF was still a student, she was hoping to finish her BSE-Ed course while married.

Thus, we exchanged “I dos” in the Roman Catholic Church of Guadalupe, Makati City even if I was not a Catholic.

The date June 25, 1972 started ominously with heavy rain that proved the weatherman right: Typhoon signal no. 3 had struck Metro Manila. By the time I was riding a borrowed car on the way to the church, flood water had risen knee-deep. There was a time when the engine conked out, and I had to push the car with the help of by-standers to enable the driver to rerun it.

Thank God I arrived in church in the nick of time.

However, by the time Fr. Francisco San Diego finished the job of pronouncing the newly-wed “man and wife,” the wind had blown harder and the rain had poured heavier. The flood water had become so non-negotiable by small cars that some of our sponsors failed to make it to the wedding reception at the bride’s house in Project 8, Quezon City.

Fortunately, one of our wedding sponsors was the late Dr. Jose Perez, the big boss of what was then the biggest film firm, Sampaguita Pictures. He had our carless guests transported to the dinner cite by the company bus.

Our supposedly ecstatic honeymoon, however, turned into a “sleepless disaster” as I had to rush the bride to the De Ocampo Hospital due to a sudden epileptic seizure. It drained my wallet.

Thereafter, more financial problems erupted, forcing her to quit school for good.

To make the long story short, the marriage failed with the man and wife breaking up after nine years and one son. The promised “abundance” from a June wedding had eluded our union.

If there was one thing I succeeded in, it was in proving my parents right: that “singles” had to be well-prepared before plunging into “double life.”

I wonder how many other ill-prepared June brides and grooms have also called it quits.