Anniversary Speech for Parents: What to Say at Their 25th or 50th

Good evening, everyone. I’m Carmela, Eduardo and Lourdes’s daughter. Thank you all for being here as we celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary—fifty years since that day in June 1976 when they said “I do” at Santo Domingo Church.

Their story started the year before, in 1975, when they met singing in the church choir. Well, technically, only one of them was singing. My dad joined the choir, even though he can’t carry a tune, just so he could stand near my mom, who was playing piano. The choir director quickly figured this out and moved Dad to the back row, and even told him to “sing quietly.” But Dad kept showing up, week after week, proving he was persistent—if not musical. It must have worked, because a year later, they were married in that same church.

If you’re wondering what the secret to fifty years together looks like, look no further than their kitchen. For fifteen years, Mom worked nights as a nurse and Dad worked days at the post office. They would only see each other in passing, so they left each other a note on the kitchen table every single day. Mom kept every single one in a shoebox. That’s their kind of romance—steady, thoughtful, and sometimes written in very sleepy handwriting.

They’re a perfect pair: Mom is the planner. She runs the family with her paper calendar taped to the fridge. Dad is the calm one who fixes everything with duct tape, and whose solution to any problem is, “Relax, it will be fine.” I think together, they’ve duct-taped and scheduled us through every family event. And no matter what, they share one halo-halo with two spoons at every party—no matter how many desserts are on the table. That, to me, is true partnership.

As parents, they led quietly by example. They showed us that love is mostly small things done every day. That’s why my husband Mark and I leave each other notes on the kitchen counter now. And as grandparents—Lolo and Lola to five grandkids—they are even more patient, and a lot more willing to hand out ice cream before dinner.

Not everything has gone according to plan, as you might expect. For their 25th anniversary trip to Hawaii, Dad got the dates wrong and they landed a day early with no hotel. They ended up spending the night at a Denny’s near the airport, eating pancakes at 2 a.m. Mom still insists it was the most romantic night of her life. Maybe not the kind of romance you see in movies, but definitely the kind that lasts fifty years.

We remember tonight Lola Remedios, Mom’s mother, who said when Dad started courting Mom that he was “too skinny, but a good boy.” I think she’d be proud to see how well that good boy has done.

Thank you to everyone who made tonight happen, especially my brother Paolo, who flew all the way from Seattle, and Tita Baby, who has cooked the pancit for every family party for the last fifty years.

So, to Mom and Dad: We wish you many more years of good health, new adventures, and—Paolo and I promise—a trip back to Hawaii, this time with the right dates and a hotel room waiting. (Raise your glass) To Eduardo and Lourdes—happy 50th anniversary!

Hello everyone, I’m Callum, also known as Andy and Nicola’s son, their built-in IT support, and the only person who ever checks the tent instructions.

We’re here tonight to celebrate a pretty amazing milestone—25 years of marriage, also known as the silver anniversary. That’s a quarter century of love, laughter, and stubborn debates over the correct answer to ‘Who won the 1986 FA Cup?’

For those who don’t know the story, Mum and Dad met at a pub quiz in Leeds in 1999. Mum’s team won by a single point. Dad, being Dad, demanded a recount, and Mum—always quick on her feet—wrote her phone number on the answer sheet so he could ‘appeal by phone.’ That’s the kind of quick thinking that’s kept this marriage interesting ever since.

What makes their marriage work? Well, Dad reads 40 reviews before buying a toaster, while Mum books family holidays on her phone at 11pm and tells us the next morning. They disagree about everything—sometimes even about what time dinner is—but they are always on the same team. After 25 years, they’re still each other’s best mate, and occasionally, each other’s worst quiz rival.

I’ll never forget the camping trip in Cornwall. Dad bravely put the tent up without instructions. The tent bravely collapsed in a storm at 2 a.m. All four of us slept sitting up in the car. Mum still calls it our best holiday, just to wind Dad up. And every Friday, Dad asks, ‘Shall we try something different?’ before ordering his usual sweet and sour chicken from the Golden Dragon. Some things never change.

Mum and Dad have taught us all something important: you can disagree about everything and still be on the same team. That’s real love—and maybe just a bit of competitive spirit.

So here’s to another 25 years, at least one more quiz win before your 50th, and Dad, please read the tent instructions next time.

(Raise your glass) To Andy and Nicola—happy silver anniversary!