Matt and Justine are home, safe and sound. Real life has begun- with the somewhat jarring realization that they forgot to have the Comed account activated. When I schlepped a few groceries to their home, I realized that there was no power. And guess what? Unless a power line is doing the rhumba in your yard, there is not a soul at the corporate offices to create a work order. So the newlyweds, powered by love, spent the first night home with a fire, candles and serenades by Matt on ukelele and guitar. They drove around to power the I pad and phones from the hybrid’s AC outlets. They seem content.
Today Justine starts a new job at Loyola, as an oncology treatment nurse. It is a good move, I think-Matt and Justine will share a work schedule. The communications within a new marriage set a trajectory. A sleepy wife incoming, and a hurried husband, outgoing, can suffer from miscues and missed cues. This concentricity is a great way to nourish the new union. Walter will be confused- he thought people slept around the clock, since there was almost constantly someone in bed. He’ll adapt.
It is life, ongoing, that counts. The wedding day is a moment, one to savor- but it will not have enough putty to patch a big hole if the foundation to married life is porous. I know that Matt and Justine are determined to build a fine life, and sturdy future. All of us who gathered to witness them taking this step are on call to help if we can. Of course, I could not get the power turned on, so I start out as a failure. Next time, perhaps….
The wedding weekend seems so long ago- I have very few pictures, and the official shots will not be available for 10 weeks-editing and color correction is delaying the sharing. I have nabbed images from Facebook, my friends’ phones and cameras, and the pitiful few I took now and then. I made a set at my Flickr site for you to peek at. I will try to at least summarize the goings on.
The rehearsal was the evening of May 18th, and only family and bridal party members attended- except for Roger, who was our houseguest. We dined afterward at Mecenat, a bistro in downtown Western Springs. Shop local, I say. The owner, Jack Hogan, and his daughter, Kelly, customized a savory menu and selected beautiful wines. The room glowed, and the food was exemplary. It was an early night, but a perfect opportunity to remind the kids how much we all love and support them.Walter became the third dog in residence that evening. I think he guessed that big changes were ahead.
Matt could not sleep in his childhood bed, since Mike and Kathryn were in it already, and he had a fitful night. At 5, I started hearing him dry heave. Nerves, anxiety, stomach acid. I treated them all via my bag of pharma tricks. Matt seems so cool and collected that I forget that he had the ulps before every Saturday radio show, every concert and every play. He is a finely calibrated dude. So I recalibrated him and sent him back to bed for a bit. When he awakened, it was almost show time. Jimmy Johns was the lunch choice, but they refused to deliver to our block. BOO! It was essential to lay a base for the drinking that would follow. McDonalds was the alternative. It might not have been the best choice for the acid reflux prevalent in Matt- but it was fast.
Then off to church.
Henry Dahl in a tux-adorable.
Zoe, Justine’s niece, the flower girl-precious.
Justine- a vision. I had not seen either other daughter in law until the Moment at the back of the church, but the busy body in me won out. She was breathtaking and breathtakingly calm.
The First Congregational Church of Western Springs is inspired by Prarie architecture with a gothic trussing system. It is the perfect size for an intimate wedding. The grounds are full of arches, pocket gardens and scenic details. We lived 200 yards from it when the kids were young. On our first day in our home, the Congregational Church’s minister’s wife, Marge Kemper, presented me with a schematic diagram of the block. I had everyone’s names and pets at my disposal. I have always had a soft spot for that congregation. Now I may join them. The minister now is Rich Kircherr, who was celebrating 25 years as a minister on Matt’s wedding weekend. He could not attend any festivities, but he DID help Steve write a blessing. Steve delivered it at the reception, embellished it, and did the good minister, and God, proud.
The music was a combination of strings, organ and brass, orchestrated by my friend, Ray Klemchuk. Justine’s cousin sang Ave Maria, and that was the only vocal. Protestant weddings are short, and music helps extend it. The good Rev used my Mother’s Day blog as a reading, and I will always be honored that he and Matt conspired to do this. It made me feel very special, and a little wise. Thank you, Rich.
Words of wisdom about forgiveness were shared by the minister,traditional vows were exchanged, and then there was a kiss and a processional.
Then there was the photo blitz, and a gap (sorry to those who had to idle for 2 hours- this is a cursed part of today’s weddings) before the reception. During that time, I sewed all of Steve’s placket buttonholes tighter because the studs kept popping off. Roger, Steve and I watched the Belmont Stakes. I added a padded bra because my dress was too long- it did the trick. I changed out a compression torture chamber for a less tortuous one- rendering me plumper but happier. I also changed from one set of uncomfortable shoes to another- which also became uncomfortable in short order. I was cool as a cucumber. Third time is a charm, I guess.
Then it was off to the reception.
To be continued….. gotcha.
I’m going to post the second part, and the pictures tomorrow. I have to gather the Vendor’s names so I can thank them They were all pretty awesome. Mostly.