Worth the Wait
Chicago, IL
December 9, 2018
Yesterday almost didn’t happen. Or, better said, it almost didn’t happen yesterday.
After having gone years without attending a family wedding, we have now enjoyed two within five months. The first, in San Francisco in July, between Brett and Jennifer, was marvelous in its setting, its convivial atmosphere, and in how it was officiated.
The officiant, still lingering after the bride and groom wandered away, was approached by another couple. The man spoke…
“Nice job. Have you done this before? When were you licensed to perform a wedding?”
“No, never. I was just licensed yesterday. Brett, Jennifer, and I met at City Hall, signed some papers, swore an oath, watched Brett show a few videos of himself ‘piping’ drives at Pebble Beach the previous day, and we were good to go.
“Actually, I don’t think the Pebble Beach retrospective was part of the official process…despite Brett also showing his shots to the bewildered woman behind the counter…but it continued throughout.”
“Wow, that’s great. So, how long are you able to perform weddings in California?”
“I don’t recall exactly, but I think at least through tomorrow.”
Katy and Perry exchanged opportunistic glances, like Medieval Irish monks being offered modern publishing software as they were preparing to script the Book of Kells.
“So”, Katy wondered, in less jest than I think she might now pretend, “we could actually knock our wedding out right now?”
“Well, I guess you could. There are enough bystanders wandering around so that we could dragoon a couple witnesses, and the office is still open for you to grab a license. Plus, we could probably still be done in time for the reception…”
As they carefully weighed the idea and its implications…their respective parents not present…this elopement might infringe on Brett and Jennifer’s day…City Hall might not even be available for an impromptu wedding…I raised one more salient point that sealed the deal.
“Of course, if you get married now, there goes our excuse for a big party in Chicago.”
“OK. Nevermind. Where’s the reception?”
And so, here we are, in the City by the Lake…My Kind of Town…the Second City…City of Broad Shoulders…Hog-Butcher to the World…that Toddlin’ Town…and, never more appropriate than when hosting this crew, The Windy City.
Neither Bill Sianis’s goat nor Mrs. O’Leary’s cow could disturb or derail our festivities, which proceeded with a hitch.
Chicago is a beautiful city, tho’ one that can become a bit ornery in the winter.
Unlike Paris, which in the snow is enchanting, like a beautiful woman withholding a secret, Chicago in winter can be like an angry shrew giving you a piece of her mind.
Despite its seasonally frigid temperament, in December it dons its finest jewels and sings its prettiest songs, repressing and delaying the angst and anguish of the coming months. This weekend, it is gorgeous.
My under-utilized officiating prowess notwithstanding, we all benefited by Katy and Perry keeping their original wedding plans.
Everything about the ceremony, particularly the bride, was beautiful. Everything about the reception, particularly the bride’s family and the groom’s admission to it, was energetic, ebullient…and fun.
The Fourth Presbyterian Church dates to the eve of the Great War, and retains the tradition and dignity of that unsuspecting era, with a solemnity and grace suited to this occasion…and, in the chill of a Chicago December, a welcome proximity to the one that followed.
The homily invoked Shakespeare’s notion that all the world’s a stage, and after we cheered the happy couple as they emerged on to Michigan Avenue, the curtain opened on the next act.
The crisp evening chill hurried us back to Le Sofitel, where drinks, dinner, and dancing awaited…tho’ not for long.
This wedding began, like so many others, with radiant grandparents being wheeled or walked to their pews, ring-bearers frolicking and fighting on their path to the altar, the minister providing a charming nod to the delightful distractions of smaller members of the congregation, and St Paul’s letter to the Corinthian’s reminding us how patient and kind Love (on occasion at least) can be.
It continued with heart-felt toasts from parents, sons, and sisters of the couple, each laced with appropriate doses and blend of humor, affection, and welcome for the newest member of each respective family.
Christy cleverly weaving references to eighteen musicals, and George subpoenaing Fabio, were wonderful touches in honor of a couple recognized throughout the evening as being both funny and fun.
Ashley, in further testimony to her talents, earned perhaps the greatest achievement of the evening, somehow prodding my elder son to the dance floor…and a smile from his face while he was there.
Continued dancing, drinking, and revelry brought the festivities to a close, rounded out as many of these events are, by joining Steve for just a couple more drinks at the hotel bar.
The following morning was graced with a slight yet sobering touch of Irish flu.
But who cares? We gave no thought for the morrow…
Yesterday had arrived, and it was worth the wait.
JD
