Sam and Julia and their entourage descend into Houston on Sunday. Others trickle in from their various world corners throughout the week, until their two Airbnb’s hold thirty people.
On Thursday, curious about how things are going over at what we refer to as “The Vu Pad,” the Waldos—Betty and her son, Chris; David’s sister, Leanne; and David and I stop by on the way to the planned group adventure at NASA. We enter a bustling house full of happy and peppy millennials, all of whom seem to know each other well and are interested in meeting David and me—because, of course, having raised such an interesting and clever son, we, also, must be interesting and clever. Which we are. As parents of the groom, we have very little to do with the details. Our job is to stand to the side and don proud expressions as the young couple scurries about and arranges things.
When you’re dealing with moving thirty people from one venue to another, all with their separate needs, agendas, and questions—also, a few couples with young kids—just getting out the door can be frustrating, but Sam moves the whole shebang along, handling it with calm aplomb.
The trip to NASA involves a rainy open-sided tram tour. While it’s a productive bonding experience, I’m too cold to do anything but shiver. But many of the party are avid about the program, so it’s a suitable multi-national activity.
The next day, another group adventure, a picnic and walk at Brazos Bend State Park, where baby alligators are active, which is pretty cool. More socializing. Bright sun, warmer day, so definitely pleasant.
Then on to the wedding venue, The Orchard at Caney Creek, a property with on-site lodging that sleeps about forty people. Inexpensive hotels are nearby to take the overflow.
The rehearsal is entertaining, with flying quips and the goofy uncertainty that stems from the fear of looking like a fool. After that, a delicious dinner, barbecue, which is attended by people who are staying on-site as well as those who are in the wedding party. The joyful mingling takes on a scary aspect as we watch the wine and beer we provided dwindle to near depletion. Considering that the next evening is the main event, this dearth of drink is not good. But the matter is taken care of by someone putting a notice on WhatsApp. On the night of the wedding four hundred bottles appear.
Interlude: On the afternoon before the wedding David and I drive fifteen miles down the highway to El Campo, a town that, as far as we’re aware, is known for absolutely nothing. I pull into a parking lot to do some quick research.
“Why not go see what that’s like?” David asks, pointing toward the adjacent looming structure.
It seems I have inadvertently parked in front of The El Campo Natural History Museum. So in we go. The building is actually the El Campo Civic Center and is used for concerts and gatherings. The museum, a few tucked away rooms on the right side of the cavernous lobby, is filled with taxidermized animals. At a guess, two hundred of them, from the smallest jungle cat to the largest bear. Every square foot of wall has a head poking from it.
A flustered middle-aged woman greets us at the door, invites us in, and immediately starts explaining that the place is disorderly because the princesses have just left. She goes on to tell us how one of the princess’s grandmothers filed a complaint because she couldn’t get a ticket for a granddaughter at the last minute. Our hostess’s indignation over this issue is disconcertingly intense.
“Look at this place, though,” she says with an encompassing gesture. “I only have room for so many. And I put out a notice days ago that registration was closed.”
“Who are these princesses?” I ask, weighing the possibility that random royals showed up in the El Campo, Texas dead animal museum.
“Every year I host a party for young girls where they dress up in fancy dresses and wear little crowns. And I get some high schoolers to come in and have tea with them.”
“How old are these girls?”
“Three to five.”
Envisioning little girls frolicking amongst the mothy carcasses puts me in a merry mood. We return to Wharton and prepare for the wedding.
Everything goes smoothly. Smiles everywhere. The bride is beautiful and glowing, her dress is stunning, and the groom is handsome. The vows are touching and sincere and the officiate, a dear friend of Sam and Julia’s, does an excellent job of guiding them through the ceremony. And, to ease curious minds, my dress draws many compliments and I look exactly the right amount of marvelous, setting a standard that all mothers-of-the-groom should aspire to.
The Cajun dinner is a hit. Perhaps the speeches are a bit gushy and lengthy; but the before-and-after mingling is fun. It’s always nice to see people you haven’t spoken to in a while and to hear opinions and beliefs from other cultures.
And, speaking of other cultures, twelve nations are represented. Accents, clothing, skin color—diversity is the theme of the evening. The party lasts most of the night. David and I crawl into bed at twelve-thirty.
We fully appreciate every second of the entire event and look forward to returning to fret-free Marble Falls. Oh, and the morning after the wedding I get up with a nasty cold, which is not at all surprising.
Love and Luck to Julia and Sam!
Just married. Notice Julia’s cowgirl boots. In the background officiating is Andrew; and acting as best man is Sam’s brother, Curtis, who did an excellent job handing over the ring.
Afterward, a lovely picture of Julia, Sam behind her. The coordinator is at the mic. The professional pictures haven’t been released yet. I’ll post more when I get them.
