A Wedding in the Vines
Being confined to quarters, quarantennui is rampant, so I am running out of things to write about. But anyone reading this has thought that for years. Today, we retreat twelve years, and continue to empty the archives.
Walla Walla, WA
August 4, 2008
Tho’ we never lived in the same state, and they spent their formative years not living in any state at all, I saw a fair amount of my Trout cousins when they were growing up.
As a frequent moocher from Atlanta or periodic pilferer from Philadelphia, I was able to see Ashley and Hugh on a fairly regular basis during their DC childhood. Unfortunately, while Ashley was in my own wedding 14 years ago, I have had few, if any, opportunities to see her since.
I now realize, and regret, what I have been missing. She is marvelous…and something of a miracle. For aside from her other accomplishments, she somehow managed to meet someone with verve, zest, and energy equal to her own.
This weekend we were thrilled to see them married. And by that, I don’t mean we were merely pleased that two such wonderful people found each other and plan to spend the rest of their lives together.
What I mean is that we were actually thrilled while we were seeing them get married. This was without question the most fun I have ever had at a wedding. Not only at the reception, which is not unheard of. But during the actual wedding, which almost certainly is.
Rita and I arrived late Friday after a missed connection in Salt Lake City created an all-day journey. We checked into the Whitman Hotel, and strolled four blocks to meet George, Molly, and my parents for dinner in one of several nice restaurants with which this burgeoning enclave is replete. Our stomachs stuffed and coated, we adjourned to Vintage Cellars for a reception honoring Ashley and Brian.
The scene the following afternoon could not have been more sublime, nor the evening more enjoyable. Even the service – set in a vineyard, featuring a canine ring-bearer, the exuberant father of the bride, and an officiant vested with the “power of the Internet” – was a far cry from the solemn ceremonies anchoring most matrimonial weekends. After taking a look at Ashley, the Best Man suddenly called off a long-time bet he had with Brian as to who would marry the better looking woman.
But nothing about this event was farcical. Everything was tasteful, and not without poignance. It arrived with dignity and elegance as Maria took the place of honor beside the bride she had done so much to raise.
This is the first wedding I have attended that was preceded and followed by a reception. Our wine accompanied us to our outdoor pew. The bride’s grandfather would have loved that. I wish he could have made the trip. He would have joined us laughing the duration of the ceremony, and appreciated it being shorter than some Sunday sermons.
The reception was perfect. My mother, Jerry, George, and Molly gathered with Rita and me around a table amid the vines. Hugh père and fils joined us occasionally as they made periodic rounds through each side of their family. Ashley and Brian eased thru the evening as if they did this every week. It wasn’t Cana, but we wouldn’t run out of wine. And everyone had fun.
As crowds dissipated and family departed, we remained an extra day, to celebrate the 14th anniversary of our own wedding. We spent yesterday exploring a couple wineries, and indulging tasting rooms and cafés along Main Street. We could find none where an owner, waitress, cashier, clerk, or customer didn’t know either Ashley or Brian.
Like a pathetic celebrity pulled over by the cops, I occasionally dropped my cousin’s name, hoping for special treatment. I even dropped Brian’s a couple times, even tho’ he couldn’t pick me out of a line up.
I then realized that, after so much time, Ashley probably couldn’t have either. But I think she could now. I couldn’t be happier for her marriage, and was thrilled to see the wedding.
JD
