“Mark. He was the big Italian guy….

He was in the wedding also.”

“I don’t remember him.” was her friend’s response to her while they walked behind me paralleling the Chicago River this morning.

Poor Mark, fat, Italian groomsman and not memorable.

Weddings can lead to very memorable times. Some of which are known-at-the-time memories and some are not-ever-known or, at the least, not-known-until-years-later memories.

Last year I had a “not-known-until-years-later” wedding memory told to me.

A very long time ago I attended a wedding of a good friend, she married a Chicago cop - without giving away too much insider “cop wedding” information – it was way fun.

Nothing says F-U-N until you have been to a Chicago cop’s wedding.

I wore a red dress – with red high heels – my blonde hair was much longer and the “laugh lines” on my face were not as pronounced.

I also weighed a little less and worked out a lot more.

This friend told me last year that in her circle of friends I have been known as that “woman in the red dress” ever since.

Unbeknownst to me after all these years I am memorable from that wedding.

That made me smile – ever increasing those well deserved lines.

Great ol’ times.