Y'all, I have struggled with these wedding posts, more with each one. Here's the thing. There was SO much to do, all built around this looming deadline of The Wedding. Much of it was, at least in my mind, necessary. House renovation. Brushpile burn. Garden enclosure razed and rebuilt. Rotten deck beautifully replaced. That had to happen. But some of it, I know, is totally peripheral. Was anyone going to go poking in my cluttered basement on July 26? No. Nobody was going to go down there. But it mattered to me that all these nagging things be DONE and laid to rest before the big event. In the Thompson family, this displacement behavior was called "ironing the curtains." Whenever they went on a family vacation, Elsa would pack the kids and all their stuff, and then, before everyone got in the car, she'd iron the curtains. She couldn't be stopped. Had to do it. No judgement from here.
Late June and July were the months when we buckled down and finished things. Phoebe and Óscar's wedding was to take place on the 26th, and that was a real cattle prod for me. I always figured I’d get around to re-purging the basement in the winter of 2024, but it didn’t happen. It was a thorn in my side, knowing that it needed to be cleared and straightened yet again—2021 was a long time ago! Finally, in the third week of June, I headed down there and gave it the week or so it needed to be tidy and navigable again.
With each basement purge I am forced to face my obsession with cardboard, and boxes. Oh, and jars.
Anything that could be useful gets saved, to excess. Hangover from my old freelance days when I was forever sending original watercolors through the mail. Sturdy cardboard--I still save it as if I were still doing that, instead of sending electrons through the ether.
Phoebe helped, clearing out our music room in the basement. Here is where she and Liam had deposited things nobody needs any more, like extra-long twin bedding sets from their dorm rooms. Hello, Goodwill! She went through her dad’s recording stuff and tidied it as much as she could, consolidating cords and equipment. We laughed at our shared memories of when Bill would be recording podcasts, and we were under strict instructions not to walk, move, talk, run water, flush, or, let's face it, breathe in the house, lest we make a wayward sound and evoke a furious pounding on the wall or, worse, a heavy stomp up the stairs. This could go on for quite some time...
For these and other memories, and a heavy dose of superstition, neither of us can bear to tear down his podcast recording place. His laptop sits in place, full of inestimable stuff, waiting for what? We don’t know, but it’s somehow sacred. What do you do with your husband's now-ancient laptop? Or, for that matter, with your own? It’s stunning how all that stuff that was so important just fades into irrelevancy when you have to leave the earthly realm. It was his stuff, and now it's no one's. I like to think that, by raising, feeding, caring for and finally fledging the kids and helping carry BWD Magazine into the future, I've checked the biggest boxes on his list.
And here's the other hard thing about writing about this. There is so much to attend to, just to pull off the various events. I honestly think Phoebs and I are still tired from it all. And writing about it is throwing a lasso around that herd of THINGS that must be done. And it makes me tired just writing about it. I don't even know if it's good reading. I just have to record it all, to honor the effort that went into it.
All summer long, Phoebe worked to string together the cadre of vendors who would help us pull off this looming event. No, these events. Some vendors were elusive; some were responsive. Each was a fresh challenge to engage and work with. She logged hours on her laptop, researching and emailing, crossing T's and dotting i's.
Particularly sharp readers will note there is a bird on the kitchen chair. His name is Chak and he is a northern mockingbird we raised, this fine and abundant and exhausting summer, from a cat-punctured pissed off ball of feathers to a beautiful free spirit who ruled the yard. I will tell his story elsewhere, but for now, just know that Chakky-boy got us through the summer. Heavy lifting for a mockingbird, but he was fully up to the job. Long live our sweet baby Chak, wherever he's flown off to! Love you forever.
We knew the reception needed to be under a roof. We didn’t fancy trying to feed 140 people in a tent in our yard without electricity right by. We figured that, for the ceremony, all we needed was an hour without rain. But for a reception, we really, really needed to get everyone into a building where we could sit them down at proper tables to dine in comfort. So we engaged a nearby venue for the reception. That was a good move. It was air-conditioned, and had bathrooms, and July was proving to be hot as Hades. For two, it was a very cool place, and close by! More on that choice later.
Doing this neatly solved the problem of where to put the many dozens of cars that 140 people would use to get here. Bill and I had been married in his family's church in Marietta, and we hosted the reception for 163 at our house, on September 11, 1993. And I remember there being a bunch of tables and folding chairs in the yard, a couple porta-potties too, and an absolute stringer of cars all along our (dirt) township road and driveway and piling up in the area around our garden. We also parked a bunch of them at the end of our long meadow. I remember assigning younger friends to give parking directions to everyone, and people having to walk our quarter-mile gravel driveway in dress shoes. The younger crowd came walking up the long meadow from the small parking area at the end, and that was a beautiful sight. Bill always said his favorite moment was seeing our friends walking up that meadow to the house. But that kind of walking is a lot to ask of older folks.
I also have a vivid memory of our caterer running clean out of food before Bill and I got to the line. (You couldn't set aside a couple plates?) I remember stomping inside the house to fix peanut butter toast for us both, for our own wedding feast. Here, honey, have some fuel for the biggest day of your life. Best I can come up with under the circumstances.
I did not want a repeat of ANY of that, nor did I want my carefully curated yard to become a parking lot for this event. On a preliminary visit to the reception site, Shila had an inspiration. We’d park all the cars at the reception site and shuttle them over here for the ceremony. Then, when the ceremony was done, we’d shuttle them back, they’d enjoy the reception and dinner, and then be able to walk right out to their cars and head to their lodgings. Brilliant. Shila's like that.
All of this, of course, was easier said than done. Although the venue had a people mover bus, in the end, we had to hire another driver and van to get everyone back and forth in a timely fashion. But our yard was car-free for the wedding, and we got the people from A to B, and it was all pretty smooth, because we'd really thought it out.
Phoebe had known enough to hire a wedding planner for this event, and I’m really glad she did. Syrie Roman helped keep us on track and attending to the million details as needed. She made us a timeline and told us what to do, and when. It was a lot. There was so much pre-arranging to be done! Syrie was always cheery, always decisive, and she made recommendations, then gently let us figure out what might be the right thing to do. She also told us when something was way out of line. Never having done this, we had only a hazy idea what was a reasonable charge and what wasn’t. Or who was supposed to supply what, and how much that should cost. It all seemed outrageous to us.
Here's another thing. It wasn’t just the wedding. We pulled off four events in four days.
First was a birthday dinner for me, for 12, on my new deck, on July 24.
Second, on July 25, was a party for 40 long-lost and long-traveling friends, coming from places as far away as California, North Dakota, Madrid, and the Canary Islands.
At first we thought we’d do that party here at the house, and we went as far as talking to a caterer and building a menu, but as the pressure built, we realized that doing it here would have been pure madness, with the ceremony also happening here the next afternoon. No, no, no!
I had attended a lovely catered party at the Barker House in Devola (a suburb of Marietta) earlier in the year, and as I cased the place, I knew it would be the perfect venue for around 40 come-from-away friends. So right then and there I talked to the owner and engaged the venue for our pre-wedding party.
It worked out incredibly well. In fact, that evening is one of my favorite memories from that time.
Oscar and his lovely mama, Vicky, on her first trip to the U.S.
Óscar and his old friend Féderico from Argentina.
We told you they were faraway friends!
Seeing Phoebe reconnect with her dear college classmates was such a joy. Her sweet face was just split in a grin all evening long.
Aaron, Óscar, Phoebe, Nate and Sam
Carinna and Phoebe with Carinna's soon to be husband Carlos. Two Americanas who met their mates while on Fulbright fellowships to Spain! Naturally, they have a very special, sweet bond.
In August, Phoebe and Óscar would travel to Barcelona to attend Carinna and Carlos' wedding!
Quite the jet-set!
One of my favorite moments at our Faraway Friends party was when Phoebe and Óscar's dear friends Fran and Aaron came rolling up with their baby boy, Santiago, whom Phoebe and Óscar had yet to meet!!
Santi was SO sweet, and a huge hit! You can see Phoebe is dying to get her hands on him.
Our dear, dear friend Yo, who we hadn't seen in way too many years.
He called me a couple of days before the wedding, asking if he could wear shorts to it.
I told him NO.
I told him NO.
It was such fun to see Yo meeting Ayla, and seeing Liam all grown up!
A blurry sweet shot of Phoebe and Tim!!
John, Kris, Lisa, me, Yo, and Ann! What a combo!!
It was such a beautiful rainy evening, and the place was just perfect for our get-together.
Phoebe and Zach, such a dear friend from Bowdoin days. Oh, these photos do my heart good! The joy! the joy!!
We knew we’d regret not having time to really talk to and connect with these folks, so having a catered party for them in town the night before was a master stroke, and, as tired and stressed as we were by then, we had an absolute blast there. (With apologies to dear friends who were there but somehow didn't make it to my camera roll. I tried, but it was pretty hectic!)
All the hugs and laughter with our friends that evening just melted the stress away. It came roaring back, of course, but Friday July 25 was a charmed evening. We would use that abundant love to get us through the next couple of days.
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