Online wedding

Well, the pandemic brings new experiences every day. This morning I went to an online wedding—not Zoom but an app called GoToMeeting. My niece, Emily Alter, and her fiancé. Max Krol, were married at 10:30—9:30 a.m. in Texas. They had planned an elaborate destination June wedding in Turks & Caicos, which made the Texas Alters rejoice. Colin and Lisa actually lived on Provo, one of the Turks & Caicos islands, and I visited them there. It would have been familiar territory.

But COVID-19 interfered. Air travel began to look more and more unwise, and they were unsure about the resort they were working with. Common sense prevailed, and they cancelled everything. Emily has been an R.N. on an orthopedic floor at Lennox General in Manhattan for several years, but with the pandemic, her unit was converted to care for COVID-19 patients. We are all extremely proud of her and more than a bit worried for her. Obviously, she had no time to plan a wedding.

Enter the City of New York. Mayor De Blasio and Corey Johnson, Speaker of the New York City Council, conceived of a plan they called Project Cupid, and Governor Cuomo signed it into law. The online marriage license program is a way of encouraging love during the time of pandemic. Previously New York residents had to appear in person to apply for a marriage license. Under this program, the whole thing can be done virtually—documents submitted, payments made under a secure electronic program. The signed marriage license is delivered electronically. The program is available in eleven languages and translation assistance is available if needed. One more wonderful example of the things being done by caring and kind people these days. They truly outweigh the outrageous rebellion and selfishness we see from some.

I was unsure what form the wedding would take, but by 9:30 Jordan, Jacob, and I were at my computer (Christian had a work appointment). Turns out the ceremony would be conducted by the family rabbi who married Emily’s older sister and brother. The rabbi estimated that, with quite a few households logged on, there were close to a hundred people in attendance. Lots of bantering back and forth preceded the ceremony. The bride’s father wore a white shirt and bow tie but joked he couldn’t stand up because he didn’t have pants on. My oldest son and his family were all spiffed up, Colin and Kegan in sport coats but I suspect they too had shorts on the bottom.

My Tomball family in their wedding finery

 Megan tuned in from their Austin apartment while Brandon logged on from his parents’ home in Midland where he was on a belated Mothers’ Day visit. The rabbi took center stage and joked that this was Uncle Mark’s way of avoiding the expense of a Caribbean wedding. But he turned solemn for the actual wedding, which included the ritual of exchange rings and the traditional stomping of a glass by the groom. Afterward, the bride and groom cut a cake, and one-by-one people chimed in with their congratulations.

It was a day for happy tears. Last night I was awake awhile in anticipation, but I expect to have sweet dreams tonight. And I’m still in a bit of wonder at what can be done with technology.

Everybody’s Mom

Wonderful rehearsal dinner last night at Lonesome Dove. Jordan’s “brother from another mother,” David, marries Kelly tonight, and we are all singing and dancing for joy. David has been like family to us for—gulp! —thirty years, not that he doesn’t have a perfectly wonderful (and big) family of his own.

The wedding is in Dallas, and Jordan decided—and I agree—I shouldn’t try to go to Dallas. They left early this morning, so they could watch the Red River Shootout (Texas vs. OU)—an activity that doesn’t appeal to me at all. I have better things to do. Tonight, they will spend the night in Dallas, and Jordan wasn’t sure who she trusts to bring me home late at night. So, David’s parents kindly invited me to the rehearsal dinner. In his remarks, David’s father alluded to my having helped raise David.

Several of Jordan’s longtime (from high school) friends were there, all people dear to me. Jordan hung out a lot with David and Rob (who now works with my Jamie)—they called themselves the Three Musketeers. At one point last night, Rob’s wife adjusted the jacket I was wearing, and I said she was just like Jordan, always fixing me. Rob said something, and she replied, “She’s everybody’s mom.” And that’s how I felt at that gathering—like I was everybody’s mom and in the midst of family.

The sense of family was further enhanced when Jordan wanted to make a toast to the happy couple. David’s father introduced her as “my daughter.” She was cute and clever, telling David she thought she’d go to Jacob’s rehearsal dinner before his and asking if he remembered when—she let it hang there and then said, “Mom remembers.” Indeed, this mom remembers so many things from over the years.

We are delighted to welcome Kelly into our “branch” of the family. She is beautiful and bright, and as David told Jordan, she “gets” him. Turns out I have some connection to Kelly’s mom and grandmom. One of the fascinating things last night was to watch the blending of David’s friends and family with Kelly’s. It’s going to be a happy union.

Lonesome Dove was great. I haven’t been there in years and came away with a new appreciation. We dined in the wine cellar—easy access for me from the alley. A lovely sitting area planted with xeriscape greens and overlooking Marine Creek opens off the wine cellar. For dinner, we had a choice of tenderloin, redfish or quail. Most people got the beef, but I chose the quail and was so unsophisticated as to whisper to the girl next to me that I longed for some ranch dressing. She laughed and said she’d really like some ketchup for her steak. Only on Fort Worth’s North Side. Dessert was a sinfully rich ancho chile chocolate brownie topped with vanilla bean ice cream. All tastefully done with great service and plenty of wine flowing.

So tonight, I’ll go back to the North Side, with a friend, to eat chicken-fried steak at the Star Café. But a big part of my spirit will be in Dallas.

Here’s to David and Kelly and a wonderful future together.

Memories of a long-ago marriage

Yesterday was an anniversary that you’d think I’d have long ago forgotten, but not so. It marked fifty-four years since I married Joel Alter. We were married in my brother’s backyard, by a hedge that barely separated us from the neighbor’s goat pen. My brother gave me away, and my mother stood looking stoic. My father did not attend. My parents did not approve of me marrying a young Jewish boy—their disapproval turned out to be well founded but for all the wrong reasons.

We were so poor that the wedding punch had Everclear in it, and though I can barely remember all the people who attended I do remember that the 14-year-old son of Joel’s mechanic got blotto on the punch. We did have a cake, and at the time it seemed a fairly festive occasion. My dress was made by a close friend—a straight shift of lace with a beige/pink background material. I do remember that our closest friends came from Kansas or Nebraska—I’m not sure where they were living—and the four of us spent the night at the local Holiday Inn. They are still close friends today.

The date got me to thinking that unless you’re careful, the end of relationships can blot out the memories of the good times. Our divorce belonged to Joel. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he had a mistress he wanted to be with. When a man tells you he wants the house and the children, and you’re the only part of the package he doesn’t want, you can’t help but being angry and bitter. I was all those things and more, though for some time I’d fantasized about life without him. Because I had four children, six and under, I was afraid to take that step, afraid I could not support them. As it turned out leaving was the best thing he ever did for us.

We had been together twenty years, married for seventeen of them, and in honesty I would say we were wildly happy for the first ten or twelve, moderately so for the next five, and miserable for the last two. And those last two tended for years to wipe out the memories of the good times we had together.

In the medical community in which we lived, we were the “alternative” couple, smiled upon indulgently by his older partners who turned a blind eye to his “hippie” decoration of his office and my tendency to wear blue jean suits with macramé belts—how dated! We were slightly outrageous but never outré, and we enjoyed that role, played it to the hilt. We lived in a big old house, adopted four kids, gave outrageous parties, and loved life. Where and why it all went wrong is a long tale. From my point of view, it has to do with a mid-life crisis, a career that didn’t soar as he though it should have, my preference to be a stay-at-home mom instead of a happy traveler. Joel has been gone several years, so he can’t give his viewpoint. But Jordan told me tonight she once saw what he’d been writing on his computer and it included apologies, confessions of guilt, and other regrets. He tried to apologize to me a couple of times, and I brushed him off. Now I wish I’d listened.

It took me a long time, but now I am able to remember the good times and downplay the anger. And I owe him a debt. He brought me to Texas, encouraged me to get a Ph.D. while he did a residency, encouraged me in the outrageous idea that I wanted to be a writer. And oh yes, four wonderful children and today seven grandchildren. I hope in our years together I did as much for him, though I’m not sure.

I’ve finally comes to term with that gratitude, the memories of happiness and joy, and mostly but not completely worked beyond the anger. Time does indeed heal.

Birth, weddings, death, and all the glories of life

A welcome visitor in the cottage tonight

even if he didn't talk much

One of the most engaging videos I’ve seen lately: Prince William bringing his children to the hospital to meet their baby brother. Love it that he drives himself and the children around London—no driver, no nanny, just daddy. Princess Charlotte was charming, waving at the crowd, while Prince George was a little more solemn. And not long after, William and Kate appeared carrying the as-yet unnamed baby. She looked smashing, considering she gave birth just hours before. And to send mother and baby home so soon—one supposes she has lots of help at home. Still, Kate strikes me as a hands-on mother, one who wants to do those middle of the night feedings herself. I wish them much joy with this new baby.

I am a big fan of the royal family. Barring that episode of Charles and Diana, for which we will not cast blame, they conduct themselves with grace, dignity, and a concern for others. Lord knows w e need such examples in our lives these days.

And sad but not surprising news that George H. W Bush is back in the hospital. I suspect he held on to get through Barbara’s funeral, but all the starch has left him with her death. I fear we’ll have a state funeral before long. Prayers for your peace, sir, from this lifelong Democrat.

Yesterday I went to a lovely dinner party and stayed so late I myself had no starch for blogging when I got home. The Burtons and I joined neighbors Dennis and Margaret Johnson to honor Sue and Teddy and their upcoming wedding. We dined at the Johnsons’ house. They are consummate hosts, and everything was lovely. The meal was a collaboration, and my compliments to Margaret and Jordan who, together, recreated one of my favorite recipes: a leg of lamb set on a cake rack over a vegetable gratin so that the lamb juices drip down into the vegetables. It’s a bit labor intensive, as you baste the lamb every twenty minutes. I made smoked salmon tartare for an appetizer, and Jordan made tossed salad, while Margaret did asparagus. A lovely meal.

The best part about it was the dinner-table conversation We talked about ideas and concepts and such, not just who did what. I relish good conversation and regret that I get it too infrequently. We all seemed wrapped up in “So what did you do this weekend,” and not the stuff that makes the world go around—or that you fear will stop it. Two of us at dinner last night are adoptive parents, and that was a big topic, with Jordan coming in for many questions. When asked when she knew she was adopted, she said, “I always knew.” I pointed out that all her siblings knew where babies came from—the adoption agency—because they were veterans of trips to bring home another baby. Lovely evening with people I’m really fond of.

Yesterday also marked the beginnings of my adventures with adoption and children. It was, gulp, Colin David’s 49^th birthday. Of course, I didn’t know it at the time—he was eight days old before I met him. Neither did I know or understand how much adoption and children would change the course of my life. But, for me, it was a monumental turning point. I never thought much about children until I had them, and then they became the focus of my life. I always say I’m a mother first and then an author and publisher.

I worried a lot about Colin, because he bore the brunt of all I didn’t know about raising babies. But he survived nicely to become a settled, happy adult, a dedicated family man, a religious man, and a professional—CPA. He is often the rock upon which I rely. He seems to have overcome my blundering into parenthood with grace, and I could not love him more nor be prouder of him.

Stories of that day 50 years ago abound, but they will have to wait for that memoir I’m threatening to write about motherhood, adoption, and being a single parent.

Now I’m going to prowl through not one but two cooking magazines that arrived today. Such bounty.

Weddings and ushers

Jacob and the bride

One of Jordan’s longtime friends from high school married last night, and it was a big deal. Jordan was one of 18 in the house party (only one attendant) and Jacob was both an usher and an acolyte at the service.

This morning, me: Jacob, how was it being an usher?

Jacob: I like it. I want to do it again.

So, if any of you know of a service that offers well-trained ushers, please let us know. Jacob would like to apply. I suppose by the time he gets through college he’ll have been in so many weddings, the glow may have worn off. But it’s pretty heady stuff for a nine-year-old boy.

The ginormous wedding party, all beauties

I attended the wedding vicariously, though I longed to be there both for the bride and to see Jacob. Alas, my foot wouldn’t cooperate, so I hung on pictures coming through on Facebook.

When I was thinking about blogging about it, I thought I’d say that it took me back 11-1/2 years to Jordan’s wedding, and I’d add pictures because it really was an epic five-day experience. The morning after the wedding, I served breakfast to about 20 people, out-of-towners that I wouldn’t see for a while again. I told a friend that after they left was one of the few times I wished I was married, because I wanted someone to rehash the whole hectic time with. She, happily married, said, “You should have called me. It would have been easier than having a man around the house.”

Eleven  years ago, these were my newlyweds

 

What surprised me is that I have no digital pictures. The earliest on my computer are from 2008. I have lots of photos, but I don’t know that they would scan well—that my scanner would do it—or that I have the skill to do that. So you’ll have to enjoy these pictures of Julia’s wedding and imagine Jordan’s, at Christmas, in a sanctuary decorated with greens and poinsettias. (Last night’s wedding was in the same sanctuary.)

Jacob and his mom

Life gets back to normal tomorrow, and Jacob starts his summer by going to golf camp.