The Wedding Day. Conclusion

5:30PM – Toby hustles the two of us down the stairs and into our designated spot for the grand entrance. I notice that the oppressive heat and choking humidity have subsided a bit. I hear music drifting through the tops of the grand oak trees, a piano and orchestra arranged by my son. I look at Kaitlin by my side, she is positively glowing. The last thing she says to me before we turn the corner and escape the seclusion of the lush green hedges is, “I love you daddy!”

5:32PM – As we make our way down the sweeping turns of the brick walkway, I look up and recognize the faces of some of my best friends on this planet. I see men and women who all had a hand in raising her, in shaping her character. Some of them have come from far away to be here. I remember warnings from many of my buddies that I would cry at this moment, but all I feel is deep gratitude. Just about the time we got to our stopping spot a soft, cooling breeze swept over the assembly. I managed to get through my four word speech, “Her mother and I,” without incident. I take my seat on the front row beside my wife.

5:37PM – The minister, Gordon Fort began the proceedings by reminding all that this date, July 12, 2014 would have been my parent’s 67^th wedding anniversary, then proceeded to read from some of my Dad’s notes we had found just a couple of weeks ago when cleaning out his house after his death. They were in a small dog-eared three ring binder of wedding services he had done over the years. When I heard Gordon reading his words, I looked up at the top of the trees now swaying in the unexpected breeze. I wondered if he was watching, if he knew how much I miss him.

5:42PM – It was time to play my guitar. Kaitlin wanted Paula to sing and me to play the Steven Curtis Chapman song, I Will Be Here, so although it had been at least a year since I had played and longer than that since Paula had sung at a wedding, there we were beginning the song. That’s when the oddest thing happened. For the first time all day, I became overcome with emotion. I felt my palms sweating, my heart began beating loudly in my ears, my fingers began to tremble. Luckily, I never look at my hands while playing, so I buried my chin in my right shoulder and stared at the ground throughout the entire song. By the time it was over I had recovered my composure.

5:50PM – I hear Gordon introduce the happy couple as “Mr. and Mrs. Jon Manchester.” I look at Jon and he has a smile splashed across his face as big as Texas. Actually he’s had it all day. It’s as if he has a clothes hanger turned upside down stuck in his mouth. The poor guy is hopelessly in love and just can’t help himself. They disappear past me as they make their way up the walkway amidst raucous applause. It’s over. The deed has been done.

6:00PM thru 7:30PM – This is the part of weddings which I hate, everybody standing around eating cheese and crackers and fruit waiting for the photographers to do their work. Between the several summons I received to appear for pictures, I began bargaining with the Almighty over the promises I had made when praying for cool weather. While the weirdly timed cool breezes that blew during the actual ceremony were a nice touch, I’m not sure that it would qualify as “cool.” I mean, I made my request pretty clear and despite the aforementioned cool breezes, it was hot and sticky both before the service and now after the service. Any impartial observer would side with me on this one, but with God, you never know.

7:30PM thru 9:15 Dinner is served after interminable picture taking session, the only bright spot being when Toby showed up with a plate of crudités for all and two iced coffee drinks for the bride and groom. Never have little squares of cheddar cheese with carrot sticks and ranch dressing tasted so good. Actually sat down at my table and ate for at least 12 minutes. Rest of time spent making the rounds talking with the guests like a shameless politician.

9:20PM – Bride and groom begin introduction of each of their bridesmaids and groomsmen. Kaitlin as poised and graceful in front of a crowd as her mother always is, and equally beautiful. After the introductions it was time for the father/daughter dance. Kaitlin chose that great song from “The Jerk,” You Belong To Me. Halfway through dance I was kicking myself that I didn’t arrange to have a trumpet handy to whip out for the solo. Truly wonderful moment. Later there was a dance for all married couples. At various times during the song, the DJ would ask those couples who had been married less than a certain number of years to be seated. The last couple standing were my in-laws. Cool.

   

 

10:00PM – After several wonderful and moving toasts from various members of the wedding party, it was my turn to give the final toast before the cake cutting. Again, my palms began to sweat, again with the loud beating heart, I began. Except for a final perfunctory paragraph acknowledging that there was, in fact, a groom on the premises, my words were mostly about Kaitlin and what a gift she has been to my life.

10:20PM – Kaitlin throws her bouquet and Jon throws the garter. Jon’s throw was particularly impressive, since he wrapped it around a 2002 Ohio State National Championship commemorative football before sending a spiral into the amassed gaggle of single men. In true Ohio State form, Jon’s brother, the intended target, dropped the ball. Yet another incomplete pass by the Buckeyes.

10:35PM – Couple finally pass through the gauntlet of sparklers on the way to their getaway car. Taillights disappear and they’re gone.

11:55PM – Arrive home after lengthy clean up made infinitely easier by my helpful family who stayed until the bitter end helping us pack everything up. Potential mother of the bride meltdown avoided when all the leftover food from the reception was trying to be loaded into Pam’s car. There just wasn’t any room yet Pam was determined to squeeze it all in. When I noticed the wild expression of exhaustion and panic in her eyes I knew that she was unable to make one more decision, so I did. I carried an entire large pan of mashed potatoes and several other gargantuan containers of meat and vegetables back into the manor house with the simple declaration, “There is no way in the world anyone will eat any of this food!!”

12:30AM – After unloading the cars, we all collapsed on the sofas in the den, too exhausted to even speak. It was all over. After 18 months of planning, 6 months of deciding, 3 months of organizing, and three weeks of 20 hour days, it was all over.

Someone on Facebook made a comment about this picture, “The Perfect Family.” Nothing could be further from the truth. We are like every other family on Earth, full of flaws and flawed people. But this I know, the people in this photograph love each other, without qualification or reservation. Each of them have been a blessing to us and instrumental in helping Pam and I shape and form Kaitlin’s character. Without these people, and without Emmett and Betty Dunnevant, none of this day would have been possible.

The Wedding Day. Part I

It has been 48 hours since Katlin’s wedding. Already my memory is starting to waver, so I suppose I better get it all down before I forget anything:

6:30AM - I am awakened by the sound of harps and a gentle breeze on my cheeks from the wings of tiny bluebirds. I look out of my window and see a rare morning rainbow, God’s promise of a day like no other.

6:31AM – I startle myself awake from a horrible Disney nightmare, convinced that I am late for my Physics exam at the University of Richmond. It then dawns on me that this is July 12, 2014 and my little girl is getting married in exactly 11 hours….which is fine since I was going to flunk Physics anyway.

9:00AM – Arrive at Carmax for the third time in two days to pick up my daughter’s car. Carmax mechanics and technicians apparently graduated from the Helen Keller school of automobile repair since none of them could manage to hear the loud whining sound coming from the rear of the car the minute it reached 30 mph on the road. Suggested that next time they may want to consider taking cars for a test drive on the actual highway instead of their parking lot.

10:00AM – Arrive at Parkside Barbershop for the much celebrated and anticipated straight razor shave with all of the groomsmen. Was served a cold Yeungling draft upon arrival, which I consumed under the reasoning that it was 5 o’clock somewhere. Charm of the place began to wear off nearly 2 hours later when my name was called, the last on the list. Charm of the place totally vanishes when it dawns upon me mid-shave that I am alone at Parkside Barbershop with no ride home, since Jon had taken Kaitlin’s car, and Patrick had headed for home ten minutes ago with my car.

12:16PM – Get text from Pam directing me to drop by Martin’s and pick up “K-cups and a large case of bottled water. When I replied that I didn’t really feel comfortable buying women’s underwear especially bra’s, she informed me that “K-cups” were not in fact a bra size, but rather a brand of coffee used in our Keurig. Made mental note to help with grocery shopping more in the future to eliminate further such embarrassments.

2:09 PM – Caravan of cars leave house headed for Celebrations. Cadillac making frightening click-click-click noise. For a minute a vision of a blown engine on 288 flies into my head. To my eternal relief, all cars arrive on time and in good order. Women of the wedding party all disappear to the upstairs of the Manor House, while the men get comfortable downstairs in air-conditioned comfort, a good thing since it is hotter than homemade hell outside. It occurs to me as I ease back on a very comfortable sofa that I am at least off the hook for all of those things I promised God I would do if he gave us a beautifully cool day.

2:48PM – Fall sound asleep on ridiculously comfortable sofa and am abruptly awakened by a sharp poke on the knee by Toby, our intrepid “event coordinator,” who implores me to get dressed into my tuxedo and meet the photographer outside immediately. While I was asleep a flurry of pressurized activity is going on upstairs, with Kaitlin and Pam trying to get her wedding dress put on correctly amidst the buzz, clicks and blur of not one but TWO photographers capturing it all for posterity. Later, when Pam discovers that I was sleeping while she was going through Dante’s ninth level of hell, she is understandably perturbed.

3:00 thru 4:00PM – Spend most of this hour walking around in circles, barking out confusing orders to anyone who looked like an employee of Celebrations. Also, begin trying desperately to get guitar in tune. 40 year old classical is temperamental in this regards in the best of environments, but in tropical heat and humidity that would induce projectile vomiting in Lucifer himself, it is a hopeless endeavor.

4:30 PM – Am summoned to the upstairs of the Manor house, and told to wait at the door to the dressing room. Inside I hear the rapid fire of camera shutters. This is one of the “money shots” of the day…Dad seeing daughter in wedding dress for first time. No pressure. No pressure at all.

4:31 PM – Open door slowly and behold as radiant and stunning a vision as I have ever seen. My only daughter looks like some kind of princess, enchanting and sublime, happier than I have ever seen her. It’s hard to be sad, impossible to cry. Why would I? This is what every father worth his salt wants for his little girl.

 

                                         ……to be continued….

A Bad Morning

 

I woke up at 5:15 after sneezing into the mask of my CPAP machine, the very definition of an inglorious beginning. Yes, I’m fairly certain that sneezing into the mask of your CPAP machine ranks right up there with wetting the bed on the Top Ten list of worst ways to start your day.

I haven’t written too much about my CPAP experiences since I got the thing over a year ago. That’s because there’s not much to tell. It works pretty well. I sleep much better than I have in years. It’s not nearly as cumbersome and uncomfortable as it looks…except when you wake up after sneezing into the stupid thing!

So now it’s 5:30 in the morning and I am wide awake. I went downstairs to make some coffee and noticed that my wife had bought me a brand new bag of Gevalia. I had been out of my regular stuff for two days and had been reduced to using some sort of fru-fru stuff from the freezer (Chocolate-glazed doughnut). Then I discovered that she had bought a bag of DECAF! Bless her heart. The poor woman has worked herself cross-eyed this past week to the point where she can be seen at 11 o’clock at night stumbling around Martin’s buying groceries. Well, decaf isn’t going to cut it, so I decide to go with the Keurig machine. My choices are as follows:

1.     Donut Shop Coconut Mocha

2.     Donut Shop Decaf

3.     Wild Mountain Blueberry

What has happened to America?? All I want is a cup of Joe and instead I am presented with items from a pastry menu. Coconut Mocha? What does that even mean? Will there be bits of coconut floating around in my cup? What genius thought of combining coconut with mocha in the first place? I love these kids you see today clutching stylish cups of Starbucks with their skinny little fingers. They just dropped $4 on a cup of over-brewed, bitter, acid water, when they could have gotten a real cup of coffee at 7/11 for a buck. Starbucks, the biggest, baddest capitalistic enterprise in America who’s most loyal customers are the type of people most likely to show up at an Occupy Wall Street rally. I’m trying to imagine George Patton marching into a chow tent during the Sicily campaign and ordering a “triple, venti, soy, no foam latte” but I just can’t. In fact, knowing George, if he heard a soldier place such an order he most likely would have slapped him.

Wow. It just occurred to me that the last paragraph sounds an awful lot like Steve Martin’s hotdog bun rant in Father of the Bride! I think the pressure is staring to get to me. I’ve got to hold it together for 72 hours. My most crucial mission today is to load up Pam’s car with all of the table decorations they have been slaving over all week and take them over to the “venue” so that our highly compensated table setters can begin their work. I just hope I don’t have a wreck or something…

State Trooper: Mrs. Dunnevant, I’m sorry to inform you that your husband has been involved in an accident.

Pam: Oh My God!!!

State Trooper: Don’t worry ma’am, your husband is fine.

Pam: BUT WHAT ABOUT THE TABLE RUNNERS!!!!!?????

My Worry List

Strange week.

I leave the house in the morning at my usual time, go to the office and do the usual things. Well, except for my first and last trip to the Social Security office to report my Father’s death and to return to them a check that was sent for the month of June, making me the only person there trying to return money. Suffice it to say that the place was standing room only inside the building and outside for half a block onto Cary Street. The wait time was estimated to be 2 hours. To the uninitiated, it would appear that the only people interested in Social Security at the Cary Street office were African American or Latino. Regardless, I decided that I would try the website instead, at which I was implored to call an 800 number to locate the office nearest me. Sigh…

Anyway, what has made this week so strange is the fact that for me it has been like any other week, while Pam, Kaitlin and everyone else staying at what has become my boarding house have been engulfed in a tsunami of calligraphy, fabric, poster board and the color "oasis" (which is translated "teal" for anyone who doesn't work at David's Bridal). I walk in the place to grab some lunch and they are all hunched over on the floor working away like Santa’s elves. This all makes me feel like a complete slug, since I have nothing to do. Yes, I pay for it all, but it takes me like two minutes to write the checks, then I wander around the house looking for something to do to make myself useful. I take out the trash. I empty the dishwasher. I cook meat on the grill when asked, but that’s about it.

So, I’ve had all kinds of time to sit around worrying about the Father of the Bride toast. What do I say? Will I get choked up? Honestly, since I’ve never given a daughter away before, I have no idea what it will be like. Will I get sentimental, or will I get all protective and try to talk her out of it at the last minute?

Then there’s the Father/Daughter dance thing. I’m not much of a dancer, and to tell the truth, neither is Kaitlin. Somebody should take a video of the thing and market it on Facebook as “White People Dancing.” But at the same time, I don’t want to embarrass myself, or Kaitlin. Lucky for me, there will be champagne at the reception.

Of course, there’s the sitting thing to worry about. When I go to weddings, or any public event for that matter, I’m not very good at sitting for long periods of time, “long” here being defined as anything over 7 minutes. I’m more of a work the room kind of guy. Plus, when I’m at someone else’s wedding, I always leave before the cake eating part, much to Pam’s dismay. Well, I can’t leave this wedding. I’m there for the duration.

So, while Pam has worried about every single detail of the blessed event for the better part of 18 months now, I’m left to worry only about dancing and sitting. Doesn’t seem quite fair.

Dispatches From the Wedding Bunker

The week of wedding finally here. All personnel bunkered in family room at battle stations. Best Man and wife arrived three days ago. Now have three crazy women within theatre of operations. Yesterday, women spent 30 man hours designing, and printing out programs for event. Long and agonizing decision process concerning proper font resulted in major delay, causing men of house to retreat out unto deck. By 1900 hours, family room had taken on look of major natural disaster.

Meanwhile, in dining room, table runners hang over laundry hanging device awaiting stitching and ironing. By midday, room will resemble sweat shop in India. CO avoided major tactical error by failing on several occasions to suggest that wife “just chill out.” Instead, deployed tried and true hug and back pat in response to several spontaneous crying jags.

Best Man planning day of fun for male members of wedding party, including lunch at sports bar, and afternoon at driving range/batting cages followed by more sports bar festivities. Made command decision to not share itinerary with female members of household out of fear of major escalation of simmering hostility.

Commander of domestic operations constantly glancing at weather app for forecast for D-Day. Results mixed. Forecast varies between 87 and sunny and 92 and ungodly humid with chance of killer t-storms. Latter produces epic crying jag. Thinking of sending Best Man to Martin’s on wine run.

Given orders from bride/daughter to produce toast for reception totally lacking in sarcasm, pithiness or depression. “Must be upbeat!” was major theme of order. Additionally, request was made to practice father/daughter dance. Bride/daughter frustrated with non-compliance

Family finances taking continual heavy fire. Reinforcements in route. Relentless and excessive use of credit card continues to baffle representatives of bank, who call once a week and leave message on cell, “What the hell man??”

Despite much collateral damage and shortage of major provisions, morale remains high. Groom expected in 48 hours, son in 72.

Dad optimistic that coming battle can and will be won.


 

Independance Day

July 4^th. Independence Day. A few thoughts about my country.

It is worth mentioning that our present problems at the border concern people trying to get here, not leave. In nearly all of our history it has been so. We don’t consider building fences to keep people in, we consider fences to stem the tide of people desperately trying to come here, to America. With all of our flaws, and there are many, the people of the world have voted with their feet, and it’s here where they want to be.

It is easy right now to think of America as a nation in decline, and honestly, perhaps we are. We don’t build things like we used to. We don’t lead the world in productivity anymore, our education system is a national disgrace. And yet we are still the center of entrepreneurial energy. We still are one of the few places on this planet where the son of a sharecropper can grow into a man with a doctorate in theology, and produce four college educated children who beget children with Master’s degrees.

So, on this 238^th anniversary of our independence, let’s remind ourselves what it was exactly that we declared independence from. I know full well that the revolution is a complicated story. There were a lot of moving parts and more sub-plots than an Agatha Christie novel. But basically, we fought a war because we were tired of someone thousands of miles away telling us what to do! If you think about it, nothing has changed in the deepest core of the American soul. We still resist and resent anyone telling us what to do, the further they are from us and our lives the greater the resentment. We might get agitated a little if the local school board member does something stupid, but when some bureaucrat from the Department of Education starts ordering us around…watch out!

Since our founding, we Americans have been identified with rugged individualism. In recent years we have lost some of it. In some circles, even the term is derided. We are told that it takes a village to do the things that our parents used to do mostly by themselves. It is insinuated that “individualism” is some sort of code word for anarchy. We are encouraged to look to government for solutions to our problems, and without a doubt, some things that we the people can’t do for ourselves, we need a robust and capable government. But those men who signed the Declaration of Independence and pledged their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor, couldn’t possibly have dreamed that the government they formed would end up so intertwined into the daily lives of its citizens.

Still, our forefathers knew when they signed their names that if the revolution failed, they would all be hanged as traitors, and they were all willing to die for the chance to live as free citizens of a Republic.

I think it was Ben Franklin who famously said, “Well, now you have your Republic. We will see if you can keep it.” For 238 years we have kept it, but each year it bears less and less resemblance to the nation that won its independence from Great Britain. I some ways that’s good. Slavery has been abolished, women have the right to vote, workers have more rights and protections than ever. But in other ways we have gone astray, in no other area more than the realm of personal privacy and individual liberty.

But on this 4th of July, I’ll take the United States of America over any place on Earth, warts and all.

My New Computer and Hobby Lobby

Pam and Kaitlin have been away this week setting up Kaitlin and Jon's new apartment in Columbia, South Carolina. That means that I have been alone in this house for three days now. I have taken advantage of all this solitude to take on several projects on my "To Do Before Wedding" list. The girls will be very proud of me.

I have also bought a new laptop, actually two new laptops, one for me and one for my assistant. Mine is still in the box, taunting me. Every time I walk past it I can hear it snicker its derision. It knows. The thing hasn't even been turned on yet and it knows that I'm an idiot about computers. Well, it's going to be singing a different tune when Pam gets home!

Currently, I am using an old Thinkpad that belongs to my daughter and hadn't been turned on in over a year before I borrowed it two days ago. It works fine except for the fact that it doesn't have a word processor and I can't get anything to print. I really should open that box and get the new one fired up, but that would require adult supervision, and she doesn't get home until tonight.

So, yesterday the interwebs were alive with the Hobby Lobby story. I will not render an opinion about the ruling, but I have to say that it has been a long time since I have read such moronic, unhinged drivel. My newsfeed on facebook looked like it had been taken over by a tribe of savage nitwits, including this gem:

"No company can call itself "Christian" who buys cut-rate windchimes made by cheep labor in China!"

This is simply stupidity on stilts. This is where the non-sequiter meets the straw man, they hook up and give birth to a fully formed imbecile. Let's examine this further, shall we?

The person who wrote this probably did so on a bright and shiny Apple laptop which didn't cost over 5 grand courtesy of that cheep labor in China thing. After she typed it in and posted in on Facebook, she probably took a long delicious sip of her Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee, harvested by labor so cheep that it would make the Chinese seem like millionaires. After taking a shower, she slipped on that cute sun dress she found on sale at Macy's the other day for $39 courtesy of a sweat shop in India. Then she drove to the gas station to fill up her car with fuel derived from oil imported from that famously pro-women's rights mecca of Saudi Arabia. When she got to work and walked across the parking lot where it was already 90 degrees at 9 am, she was so releaved when she entered her building where the cool breezes of her climate controlled office awaited her, thanks to the coal that her power company burns to keep the air conditioners running, the same coal that I'm sure she will one day write a hit piece on for Mother Jones.

I could go on this way for days.

Listen, if you want to disagree with the Supreme Court ruling fine, do so on the merits, but don't try to cast aspirtions on the company that brought the suit, by questioning the genuineness of their religious convictions, especially when you don't have a clue of how easy your life is made by the very same free markets that you criticize.

I really should open that box. Uh-oh, not only does it say that it was "made in China" but the cardboard box was even made in China by an outfit called, "Chong Qing Yong Tai Paper Co. Ltd." Do I feel guilty? No, because yesterday I paid less for two laptops than I paid for the one I bought 4 years ago. The money I saved I am now free to donate to one of the ten million non-profits out there committed to the destruction of free markets!