Thursday, August 6, 2009

Twenty Six years ago today

Twenty six years ago, at this time in Orange County, California, a photographer was hustling us over to a construction site to take pictures of our wedding party. When I look at the pictures now, I see an awful young bunch of people amongst the greenery of August, 1983.

I remember that day pretty well. I awoke rather early and went into the kitchen of the house we were using. Inside the refrigerator was a small can of Donald Duck grapefruit juice. I couldn't see anything else which drew my attention. I opened the can and drank. That is how I ended up with nothing on my stomach but the acid of a small can of grapefruit juice.

Afterward, we showered, dressed and went over to the church to prepare for the wedding. We drove up to the entrance of the church and went into the little room to the right where we waited for the beginning of the ceremony. The pastors came into the room and my dad took care of paying for their services. We had our pictures taken, dad and I, in the waiting room.

Finally, the music began and my father and I walked down the side of the sanctuary of the Methodist Church and arrived at the front of the church. I watched as the ladies were escorted down to the front by my groomsmen and then the music changed and Cindy's dad began the long walk down the center aisle toward the front of the church. As I watched, I tried to catch Cindy's eye, but she seemed focused on the floor. She was beautiful nevertheless.

The parties arrived at the front and the ceremony began. The two ministers traded off stories and liturgy, prayers and vows. At some point, Cindy and I went around the alter and knelt behind the table. I slowly leaned over toward Cindy and whispered in her ear, "I was surprised that you could get that ring on my massive paw." Cindy giggled.

Afterward, the parties exited, the congregation left the church for the reception, and we were stuck inside the sanctuary while the photographer tried to get every possible combination of pictures in the front of the church. Later, he escorted the whole wedding party next door to the construction site for an outdoor picture which took an interminable time, but turned out nicely.

Meanwhile, my in-laws' former next-door neighbors from Natchez, Mississippi, were waiting in their Rolls Royce to take us to the Balboa Yacht Club for the reception. Someone told the photographer to go to the yacht club and not the Balboa Bay Club. He said he understood. He did not.

So we arrived at the yacht club, sans photographer, and began to speak with the people who had gathered for the wedding. At some point, early in the festivities, I stepped through a barrier to the bar and asked the bartender for Bourbon on the rocks. He asked what we were celebrating. I told him my wedding. The drink was on the house.

As the temperature at the yacht club sweltered at record levels for Southern California, the locals began to swelter and melt at their tables. Meanwhile, temperatures in the 80s or 90s seemed pretty cool for August for this Georgia boy and most of the wedding party who were from the southeast adjusted fine to the heat, without humidity. The band began to play, and we danced among our guests.

It was really fun until the photographer showed up. At that point, we had to go with him outside for the typical pictures. Thank goodness Susan and Tammy had been taking casual pictures. There were quite a few iconic pictures taken by those two, particulary one of Uncle David and another of John with Cindy's bridal veil on his head.

Afterward, we left the party for Cindy's mom's Oldsmobile Cutlass and the ride back to the house, where we could shower and change and relax a bit before Tammy and Mike drove us into Los Angeles and the Hotel Bonaventure.

We were very tired and hungry and ate a sandwich before heading upstairs to find the magnum of champagne waiting for us. It ended up being somewhat of a waste, as we really weren't up to drinking that much bubbly before calling it a day. I ordered room service for the next morning and we went to sleep.

The next morning, we were awakened by a knock at the door; Cindy hid in the bathroom, and I answered the door and let the room service waiter get the room ready. He opened the drapes and I opened the sheers and saw the Hollywood sign on the hills outside our window. That was pretty cool.

After breakfast, we dressed, arranged our suitcases, and headed downstairs to the bellstand and the shuttle which took us to the airport for a ride to Atlanta, then on to London. I wouldn't recover completely until about three days into our time in London.

It was a lot of fun. Despite the heat and the flubs with the flowers and the Californians questions as to why I wanted to live in Georgia. All that went by the wayside as I had my wife on my arm, headed for a new adventure.

Happy Anniversary.

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