Skip to main content

09-13-2009

Anyone who knows me well knows that I hate weddings. When my brother Owen, told me of his engagement, of course I was happy. His fiance, Diana, is a beautiful, loving, kind and most importantly, patient person. To be with my brother, one needs to be patient, or else they may become one. I looked forward to them setting a day and then it arrived. Sunday, September 13, 2009 at 4:30. I thought, what a perfect time, not to hot, not to cold, first week of pro football......the last one took a while to digest. Now my brother is not the big fan that I am, but he does have some knowledge of schedules, teams, etc. To me this was unfathomable. Had the lovely, Diana waited all this time to get back at me for some comment I made years ago? Did Owen, specifically choose this day as repayment for some older brother hi jinks? I could not understand this fate I had to incur. I felt like an overweight Nancy Kerrigan, laying helplessly on the floor screaming "why me, why me!"

As the day approached I started checking the weather reports. Sunny, 80 degrees. Good grief. I'm stuck in a monkey suit, the world watching, in summer heat. Nothing good could come of this. I envisioned myself melting like the Wicked Witch of the West, just in a much larger puddle. As the week began I got bitter. As I put in my fantasy football team, I wept, thinking of what I would miss. My picks pool meant nothing to me. Then Thursday night I went out for the first game of the season. A brief nuptial reprieve. Or so I thought. As the TV counted down to kickoff in a fashion similar to New Year's Eve, I sat restlessly. Five minutes to go and I was definitely ready for some football. Just then with 4:32 seconds until kickoff, my phone rings. Diana, wanting to go over last minute details for the rehearsal dinner. Twenty-six minutes later, I returned to my perch at the bar, half of the quarter gone, my excitement deflated, but now having a better appreciation of the fact that getting information from my brother is like pressing one for English, but accidentally hitting two. You hear something, but it never quite makes sense.

Saturday, the big day of the rehearsal luncheon. A nice drive up the Taconic in the rain, a little confusion as to where we were, but my father and I arrived, early. We met the people in charge and were told how to walk, how to talk, and how to do the hokie-pokie. Apparently, it doesn't start with your left leg in or out. Who knew? So the formal stuff was over and it was time to eat. A lovely lunch, good company, a few more instructions and I was on my way. Dad stayed with the rest of the guys up in Poughkeepsie, I returned home, for what was intended to be a night of college football and serious beverages. Upon my return I began to think about the heat, the tux, and the recovery from a night out. I literally turned around while walking outside and returned to my cave. A friends phone conversation entertained me greatly. I even got a decent night's sleep.

The big day was upon us. The sun was beaming, the air was perfect, even some emotional moments as I got ready to leave. Thoughts of my mother, thoughts of my brother as a youngster, all these things, together on one day. The happiest day of his life. My drive got started with a detour, so I arrived a few minutes later than planned. We all got dressed. Five socially awkward individuals, trying to dress each other, putting on straps and pins and all kinds of contraptions to make us look a little less ape-like. It always amazes me how I can unsnap a girls bra with one hand, in the dark, drunk, from a facing position, but can't get into a tuxedo without the help of multiple people. We all were dressed and it was time to hit the lobby for the first wave of photos. A dapper crew we were as the photographer took us from the lobby, then to street where we walked down the middle of the street like a much classier version of Reservoir Dogs. Then to a garden where we displayed some posed shots, some casual shots, and I'm sure some which could be constituted as homoerotic. Then we had the first drink. Of to the "place" and everything was being set up. A few more pictures and the sweat was pouring from my brow. I worried that the glare from my head would be very evident in the photos. A little joking around and then they brought us all some champagne. We were then told to start seating the guests that were arriving. This all went by so fast I was surprised. The next thing I knew I'm standing in line and the music is playing.

We all took our positions at the alter. The groomsmen looking quite elegant and the bridesmaids looked beautiful. My brother stood calmly waiting for his soon to be bride. Her music started and I caught the glimpse of her father, followed by Diana. Now, when you've known someone for over five years and they are a family members significant other, you don't think one way or another about them as far as looks are concerned. I can honestly say, Diana looked absolutely stunning. From head to toe, I can honestly say, she was the most beautiful bride I've ever seen. Her dress was absolutely amazing. So much that the best man and I both commented. Neither one of us is a fashion guru, but we've been to enough weddings to know what's nice and what's amazing. She was amazing. They were married by a judge, who kept the ceremony light and sweet. A brief mention of my mother's passing definitely caused me to hold back a tear or two, but I refused to be the big sappy guy this day. As they exchanged their "I do(s)" a sense of real warmth came over me. My brother just became one of the luckiest people I know. My happiness for him was immense. I wish I could say the same for Diana, but she and I both know, he's the one making out on this deal.

A few more pictures, a few more cocktails and we were about to be announced. We all made our way and then they were announced for the first time as Mr. & Mrs. Owen Hopper. The dances were sweet. The best man's speech was great and coming from someone who really wanted to make a speech, that is saying a lot. I felt it wasn't necessary, because he had accomplished the two things I would have tried to do. Sincerity and abuse. He nailed them both. The food at this wedding was second to none. I've only been to one other wedding where the food was even close. I can't even count the number of appetizers during the cocktail hour. There had to be at least forty, maybe more. During our pictures alone, I tasted about 6 different things and I didn't even have a quarter of what was offered, just to us. The appetizer salad was one of the best salads I've ever had. It was a combo of Caesar salad and tomato and mozzarella with a basil pesto sauce that was delicious. For dinner I had the 14oz rib eye with mashed potatoes and spinach. I couldn't ask for a better steak, cooked perfectly. The other choices were Chicken Tuscany, Salmon filet, and there was an eggplant dish. No way I wasn't having the Rib eye! Even the wedding cake was good. To be honest, I'm not a dessert person, but between the rehearsal and the wedding, the desserts were perfect. If anyone ever goes to Shadows, which is the bar next to the Grandview, may I suggest the Alsatian Cheesecake. See what happens when I start talking about food?

OK,so the weddings in full swing. I'm dancing with old ladies, I'm dancing with young ladies and I even danced with a few guys that night. I wanted to dance with one of the waitresses, but they frown upon that. The wedding ended at 9:30. I continued the celebration until 3:30 in the morning, but this isn't the place to discuss the debauchery that ensued after the wedding. The names would have to be changed to protect the innocent. When I awoke at 11:30 in the morning, in the front seat of my car, in the parking lot of the hotel in shorts and a tee shirt, I wondered how it was possible that I could actually remember everything. As I drove home I thought about the day. I didn't once think of the football games I missed. I didn't think about anything to do with me. OK, maybe one thing. Anyway, my point is, my brother and Diana put on a great show. I think the thing that sticks with me most is that many years ago, I thought I was going to have a little sister. That for incredible reasons didn't work out. In many ways I feel that around 5pm Sunday, September 13, 2009, I finally got one. Owen & Diana, I love you both very much.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

11 Rules of Life - Bill Gates?

I read this on Facebook this morning.  A friend had posted it and said that every child should have to receive this. I of course read it and started to think.  I immediately wondered who really wrote this, as I rarely see things like this attributed to the proper person.  I immediately found it was written by Conservative Charles J. Sykes when he wrote a book about how America is dumbing down our youth.  I read it twice and started to wonder how true it was.  Below is a link to the actual picture I saw. So let's look at each of the rules and analyze them. Rule 1: Life is not fair — get used to it! - Life is not fair in that we are not all afforded the same opportunities based on race, creed, color, socio-economic background, but in general, those who are afforded the same opportunities to succeed are very often rewarded for their individual efforts.  Sure there may be underlying circumstances, but hard work is proven to pay more often than not and those who strive for succ

Quickie Review - Finding Vivian Maier

While I thoroughly enjoyed the film, especially the first 15-20 minutes, I was a little bothered by the way the film played out. The interviews with the clearly disturbed brother, sister and the mother, who obviously, was in for a cut, didn't need to be in the film. Then the woman who suggested abuse, yet seemed to have her life defined by Maier, as she tried to muster every ounce of emotion and fake guilt. Her friend, more than happy to be party of the charade. People who talk about abuse for the first time, usually don't do so on camera. The fact these scenes were so prominent, shows that they felt wronged that they were not rewarded. Maloof on the other hand, seems to disappear from the documentary during this part, almost hiding away from the fact, he went from complete praise, to even making money off of her, to destroying her personal legacy. He almost mentions the family of boys taking care of her rent, as an afterthought. Her burial spot, never shown, yet a video of her

White Privilege

This was a post I wrote on Facebook after surprisingly not seeing any moaning about the Documentary by Jose Antonio Vargas, titled White People Dayyum! I just scrolled my timeline and not a single white person got their feelings hurt by White People. I unfortunately haven't seen it, but the number of fake accounts that popped up on twitter, tells me it was a damn good show. Here's the thing. If someone of color aka non-white says "White Privilege," are you offended? If you said yes, then you are exhibiting white privilege. It has nothing to do with how hard you work or study, how you stayed out of trouble, because here's the thing, that is entirely the point. Somewhere out there, there are 100 Black, Spanish, Native American, Arab, Asian, who worked and studied as hard as you and never got in trouble, but they don't have what you "earned" or achieved. Stop looking at the one person you know who isn't white that achieved as your benchmark. Loo