Just last month, my nephew married a wonderful young lady in
an incredible ceremony in my hometown, Jonesboro, Arkansas. Despite a raging thunderstorm during the
rehearsal dinner, the whole weekend went off like clockwork. It was incredible. On our flight back to New Jersey, I had time
to think about the wedding, and about the impending wedding of my
daughter. I anticipate all sorts of
madness, as Jordan’s wedding will be in New Orleans. A couple of years ago, one of my nieces had a
wedding in New Orleans and it was a fantastic event. As the jet flew me home to Jersey, I looked
down on the passing countryside, and slowly, another wedding came to mind.
Roughly 10 years ago another niece, Ashley, held her wedding
on a sweltering evening in mid-August. Everyone thinks they know hot. Everyone thinks they know humid. If you haven’t spent an August in Jonesboro,
Arkansas you know neither hot nor humid.
In August, if the air moves at all, you feel more like a dog panting on
you than anything else. The warm and
oh-so-humid dog breath breeze does more than make you uncomfortable. It makes you miserable because it usually is
just enough breeze to bring airborne visitors from the rice fields south of
Jonesboro into Jonesboro. At the last
puff of a breeze, mosquitoes the size of
sparrows swarm like flying vampire biker gangs and immediately begin sucking
blood, bone marrow and the very life force from those unfortunate enough to get
caught in either darkness or shade. Home
sweet home.
On the day of the wedding, my wife and I were supposed to
make sure Mom was at the Church on time.
That was our mission. Get mom,
and get her to the church with time to spare because Momma’s not happy when
Momma has to hurry. Mom likes to take
her time getting ready, and so Landi and I enjoyed a couple of cocktails while
mom finished getting ready. Landi was as
beautiful as she has ever been with every hair in it’s place, and perfect
makeup. I was wearing my freshly pressed
suit. I had my crisply starched, white
shirt with the French cuffs sporting my gold Ole Miss cuff-links. My freshly cut hair was neatly combed. We were a sharp looking couple. Ten minutes before we were going to leave for
the church, and a full 25 minutes before the wedding, the phone rang. It was my sister.
“You’ve got Aunt Dorthy?”, she asked.
“No”, I replied. “Am
I supposed to?” I asked.
“Mother was supposed to get Aunt Dorthy from the nursing
home.”, came the response.
“Shit….Ok, no sweat.
I’ll take care of it.”, I assured her, and I hung up. I told Mom that we had to get Aunt
Dorthy. After a brief discussion, it was
decided that Mom would drive herself to the ceremony, and that Landi and I
would go get Aunt Dorthy from the nursing home and take her to the wedding. We
fixed fresh cocktails, and headed out.
It was a ten minute drive to the Nursing Home. On the
way there, I explained to Landi just how
big a role Aunt Dorthy had played in our family for so many years. First, I explained that Aunt Dorthy wasn’t
really an aunt, but that’s what dad had always called her. She had worked for Mom, and later for my
sister, for many years. She had a big
part in raising all of my sister’s kids.
I hadn’t seen Aunt Dorthy in some years.
It crossed my mind as we sped through Jonesboro streets to the Nursing
Home, that this might be a very fortuitious event because we’d get to spend
some time with Aunt Dorthy. We pulled up
in the parking lot of the Nursing Home and I walked quickly in to get Aunt
Dorthy out. I had parked as close as I
could to the door so she wouldn’t have to walk far.
Having not seen Aunt Dorthy in several years, I was somewhat
unprepared to see her. She was dressed
to the nines. Her hair was perfect, as
was her makeup. Sitting there in her
wheel chair, she was absolutely glowing.
….In her wheel chair…..
An orderly helped me wheel Aunt Dorthy out to the Van. In the late afternoon heat, I was already
starting to sweat. At the Van, the
orderly, citing some rule, decided he could help no more, and retreated into
the Nursing Home. Landi and I set about
getting Aunt Dorthy into the Van. The
Van, I should mention, was fairly high.
It had a running board the everyone stepped on to climb up into the van. It’s not too difficult….unless you weigh 400
lbs and have two artificial knees.
Aunt Dorthy slowly and painfully stood up. The wheel chair started to roll away, and I
reached to grab it incase Aunt Dorthy needed to sit again, and as I stretched
to grab it, I heard the tearing of fabric and felt the shoulder of my suit
jacket..give..a little. Damn…but I
caught the chair, which was a good thing, because, with a pained groan, Aunt
Dorthy sat back down. We locked the
wheels of the wheel chair, and tried again.
Slowly and wobbly, Aunt Dorthy stood.
With her right hand, she grasped the handle at the top of the sliding
door of the van. She was making a 100%
effort, and it was painful, but she was going to make it! Then, she started to fade. All sense of modesty lost, I shifted my position so that I could get my
shoulder under her butt. I squatted
down, and again, I heard the tearing of fabric, and felt a new looseness in my
pants. I get my shoulder under her and
lifted as hard as I could, but made little progress until I reached with my
left hand to grab the frame of the captains chair we were trying to get her
in. Again, the sound of tearing fabric
and a new freedom in my left shoulder told me I had torn out that sleeve too,
but not for nothing, Aunt Dorthey was sitting peacefully in the captain's chair in the van.
I looked at Landi.
Sweat was running down both her cheeks.
Her beautiful dress was marked with sweat and wrinkled beyond belief. Her hair was…interesting. I was
covered in sweat. I could feel my shirt
sticking to my chest and I had torn the shoulder out of both of the arms of my
suit, and split the seat of my pants but in the rear view mirror I could see Aunt Dorthy smiling in the back seat. I looked at Landi, and she looked at me, we laughed a little and
with the air conditioner going full blast, we headed to the wedding.
At the church, I stopped the var right at the handicap
entrance. I would pay the ticket if I
got one, but I wanted Aunt Dorthy as close to the door as possible. Getting Aunt Dorthy out of the van was much
less trouble than getting her in. With
Aunt Dorthy safely in her wheel chair, Landi and I began trying to navigate to
the sanctuary of the church. The signs
directed us to an elevator. Emerging from
the elevator, we saw a door marked ‘Sanctuary’.
Landi pulled the door open, and I pushed Aunt Dorthy through the door…..into
the sanctuary…..the front of the sanctuary…..behind the wedding party…..during
the ceremony. As inconspicuously and
quickly as possible, I wheeled Aunt Dorthy off the stage. With the ceremony in full swing, all eyes were on us as we slipped down the groaning handicap ramp and into the handicap space. I could feel my sister’s gaze burning my skin. Landi sat down beside me. We were watched the rest of the ceremony and marshaled our strength.
After the ceremony, I asked Mom if she would ride to the
reception with Landi in the van so I could put Aunt Dorthy in her Lincoln, and
Mom was agreeable, so that’s what we did.
Hoping to beat the crowd, Aunt Dorthy and I went directly to my sister’s house. I hoped that I’d be able to get a close parking place,but that plan didn’t work out so well. Cars were backed up all the way down the
driveway, so I drove past the house, and parked a couple of blocks away. I helped Aunt Dorthy out of the car and into her
wheel chair and began slowly pushing a 400lb lady back up the road in the
smothering heat of a mid-August evening wearing the remnants of what once was a
fine suit. The last leg of the journey
was up the hill of the driveway. I had
to really lean into it to get her up the hill because the leather soles of my
shoes slipped easily on the polished concrete driveway. I was sweating like mad. My shirt was completely stuck to my back, and
as the sweat ran down my face, and into my eyes, blinding me, I had to dodge a
couple of cars that came flying down the drive, apparently driven by the ‘valet’
parking guys. Valet parking?
Finally, we entered the reception. Aunt Dorthy was in her prime. She knew everyone there, and probably for the
first time in her life, she held court.
Everyone had to visit Aunt Dorthy!
She knew everyone because she had watched them all grow up. While she was visiting with someone, she
mentioned to me that she was a little hungry.
Landi got her a fresh glass of wine,
and I went into the dining room to fix her a plate from the buffet. My sister’s dining room table is huge. It will comfortably set 25 people. On this massive table the caterer had done a magnificent
job presenting an absolute abundance of wonderful food. It was incredible. As I surveyed the beautiful scene, in the
corner of my eye, I noticed someone bump a tall cabinet. The tall candle wobbled back and forth a
couple of time, finally teetering just a smidgeon too far and falling only to
come to rest against the antique tapestry hanging on the wall. I shouted to the person beside the cabinet,
but in the low rumble of the crowd they didn’t hear me. I moved close, but the crowd, all waiting to
get to the food, was slow to part. “That’s
on fire!”, I said as I pointed excitedly and pushed my way through. I was almost there, when with a muffled ‘whoomp’,
the tapestry burst into flames. It was a
real fire, with flames a foot tall. The room
went oddly quiet, and someone said “Hey…that’s on fire!”, and now the crowd parted for me. I jumped up on top of the cabinet, and began
pounding the flames trying to knock the fire down. ‘Get me a towel’, I shouted…and someone
handed me a paper napkin. “I need
water!!”, I shouted, to which a second someone observed “Hey…that’s on fire.” Still, no one moved. No one put a plate down. I was pounding the fire with paper napkins,
and a plastic cup sparks and smoke were filling the room. “Get me some water!”, I shouted to which no
one moved. Finally, the chef ran out of
the kitchen with a wet towel, and we got the fire out leaving a huge hole
burned in the tapestry, and an ominous black smudge on the wall, with those
creeps smoke stains going up to the ceiling.
I climbed down off the cabinet and fixed Aunt Dorthy a plate
all the while listening to the murmured comments about the fire. I took Aunt Dorthy’s plate to her. She was still holding court and having the
time of her life. Landi looked at me
with horror….and that ‘What the hell happened to you?’ look in her eyes.
I went to the bar.
The bar tender was facing away when I approached. He turned and looked at me. Startled, he recovered and slowly he took in the whole state of my
disrepair. My coat had both the
shoulders torn out and the front pocket was torn half off. My shirt tail was out, and my face was covered
in black soot. Sweat had run down my
face drawing clear lines in the soot, and my shirt was stuck to me. My tie and one eyebrow were severely singed, and my hair was probably still smoking
some. He sniffed the air, obviously
taking in the aroma of burnt hair, sweat and wet plaster.
The bartender smiled, reached for the bourbon, and said “You must be Uncle Bill. They warned me about you."
