Sitting in my home office, listening to the intermittent chirps of hidden birds and the occasional growl of passing traffic, it's clear that this Sunday morning is vastly different than last Sunday morning. My little sister, Michelle, finally found the right guy a few years back. Last March, in a hasty ceremony done right before the world locked down, she married him. Last week, in a beautiful ceremony done before a small collection of close friends and family, she married him right. That's the broad stroke of it; here are the details… Michelle is the baby of the family, my only sister, and a wonderful human being. She grew up with all of us here in Utah, but now lives in Portland. Originally, she was going to marry her fiancé, Jeremy, on my birthday back in April of 2020. As we all know, having a wedding during the early days of the pandemic were a no-no, so she had to postpone the celebration for over a year. The plus side to this was that, by waiting until June of 2021, all of her family was able to get the vaccine and travel in (presumed, comparative) safety. I'm really glad that it worked out the way it did, because if she'd tried to do it in, say, October, I don't know if I'd have been able to attend. Anyway, the trip was short and sweet: Gayle and I flew out to Oregon with my immediate family (my older brother and his girlfriend, my younger brother and his wife, and my parents) on Saturday. We ate a delicious lunch at a barbeque place, which was a bit strange for me and Gayle: We haven't dined in any restaurant in over a year. Fortunately, Portland was still taking the pandemic seriously, so the restaurant was not crowded, there were plenty of spaces between tables, and the servers all wore masks. That helped calm my covid-nerves, albeit only a little. (The issue here is pretty complicated, so I'm not going to go into why I felt--and still feel--that way.) After eating, we piled into the two not-at-all-what-we-ordered rental vehicles (my dad had to drive an eye-wateringly blue pickup truck, while my brother drove a clown-car compact called a Chevy Spark), dropped off our things at a hotel, and then met up with the purpose of our trip. We got to see Michelle and Jeremy's beautiful home--one that had been built about a century ago--and enjoy the rich verdure of Portland. We left Utah when it was broiling in the mid-nineties; we never peaked over seventy degrees while in Oregon, which meant that the evening was cool and pleasant. We met Jeremy's family--brother, sister-in-law, and parents--and enjoyed a pizza dinner with my aunt from New York, too. Lyra, Michelle's enormous bundle of dog energy, frolicked joyfully in the park. We spent an enjoyable evening at Michelle's house, playing games, eating smores, and choking on smoke from the firepit in their backyard. It did strike me as odd that I was indoors, masks off, and acting as if all was right in the world while knowing that things weren't as picturesque as they felt. Fortunately, my oldest son--the one with a severe heart condition that put him at high risk with covid--had just received his second dose of the vaccine the day before. Though he wasn't there with us, it made me feel better to know that he would soon be safe enough to engage in activities like these again. Sunday morning arrived, and with it the many differences between that day and this. We left our Comfort Inn and headed to the New Deal Café where we had a delicious and filling breakfast. We ate outside while the typically temperamental Portland weather teased and threatened us with rain. Fortunately, the wet held off while we ate. The next stop was Powell's Bookstore in the heart of Portland. Those who know me well know that a bookstore of Powell's size and stature is more exciting and enjoyable for me than going to a theme park. Because of covid restrictions, we had to queue outside for a few minutes until we were allowed into the store. It was a magical place, I'm not going to lie. I immediately set out to find their literature criticism section where I looked at all of their Shakespeare-related offerings. They had one entire section dedicated to his plays and another to criticisms, history, and contemporary thought on the Bard. Incredible. I also wandered through the comics, roleplaying games, science fiction, fantasy, horror, and history sections, drinking in the ambiance and reveling in the sheer quantity of book nerdery going on about me. I ended up buying some books that I will get next Sunday, as they are the Father's Day presents my children will give me. I also bought a couple of books that I gave to the newlyweds (who were also alreadyweds, but whatever) and an annotated collection of H.P. Lovecraft's works. Once they pulled me (an hour earlier than anticipated, I might add) from Powell's, we hit the road again, striking out toward the vineyard where the wedding would be held later that day. The drive was pleasant--I read from my book and enjoyed the scenery--and, soon enough, we had arrived at Youngberg Hill. We settled into our rooms, with Gayle immediately snuggling into a nap, and then passed the afternoon with gentle conversation. My aunt and older brother did a wine tasting while looking out over the beautiful countryside; my younger brother and dad and I enjoyed the company. As five o'clock prowled closer, we all got ready. Gayle put on the wig composed of her own hair and the resplendent blue dress she had made for the occasion. I wore a tie. Because the bride and groom are Jewish and having a Jewish wedding, I also put on one of the provided kippah (which I always called a yarmulke) which I wore throughout the night. About ten minutes before the beginning of the ceremony, the Oregonian weather kicked in. The rain came down in fits and starts at first, so we went ahead and gathered on the folding chairs outside. The rabbi who officiated performed a beautiful ceremony…only for the rain to really come down just as the two were declared officially married. As one, we scrambled to bring the ceremony inside the nearby pavilion, where the two recited vows to each other, I read a poem by Khalil Gibran--per Michelle's request--and we all relished the beauty of what was happening. Once the glass was broken beneath Jeremy's foot, the couple went out for some beautiful pictures. The rain had--predictably--stopped during the ceremony, but the upshot was, a beautiful rainbow grew out of the gray skies, allowing for some really remarkable wedding photos. After the pictures were done, we went into the pavilion again to enjoy the meal, the speeches about the lovely couple, and socializing with others. I'm not a particularly extroverted person. In fact, I don't really like parties or social gatherings, especially with people that I don't know. I'm much like Mr. Darcy in that way… Still, it was, for the most part, a wonderful dining experience, getting to know Jeremy's family and friends a bit. Once the meal was out of the way, a dance was had, and then the party really started. Michelle and her friends liquored up very well, frolicked for a good few hours, and then at last said good night. It was an exhausting but fulfilling day, and I only got choked up, like, twice. It was a memorable, wonderful experience. We spent the night in the Youngberg Hill's mansion, enjoyed a delicious breakfast there, and then set off for the airport. The flight home was even less eventful than the flight there. I read more of my book, dozed, and enjoyed the ginger ale (the only reason to fly). Home from the trip, we stopped at Gayle's parents' house, where the boys were being tended. We spent the evening with them, trying (and failing) to get our seven-year-old's tooth out of his face. We then went home to an empty house. The next morning--far earlier than I would normally want--we had an appointment for Gayle's radiation therapy. She also got a hormone-suppression shot, which was painful for her. That Tuesday afternoon, we went up to Salt Lake City, dressed up in Gayle's costumes as Mr. and Mrs. Darcy for afternoon tea at the Grand American Hotel. (This was a long-anticipated experience, one that I had set up for Gayle's big Christmas present.) I've never been to the Grand American, and so I made the mistake of prowling through the parking garage, trying to find the best place to park. I ended up putting us on the farthest-from-our-destination spot possible. Still, we arrived with enough time to get to the Lobby Lounge and begin a ninety minute experience. I can still almost taste that delicious tea…wow. It was really good. Plus the food was delightful. We took some pictures there at the hotel, then went to the Red Butte Gardens nearby, where we continued to cosplay as Regency-era aristocracy. We bumped into some tourists from Philadelphia who wanted our pictures. It was fun to make people smile with Gayle's costumes again. It's…been a while since we could do that.
Originally, we were going to stay the night at Anniversary Inn, but a mix-up in reservations put us back on the road home. We went to the fine-dining restaurant attached to Evermore Park, Vanders Keep, and had another fantastic meal. It really was delicious, and the ambiance was a lot of fun. If you're interested in that sort of thing, I'd really recommend Vanders Keep restaurant. It's a bit more expensive than I normally do, but it's worth going at least once. In our case, I imagine that it'll become part of Gayle's birthday celebrations for as long as the restaurant exists. Anyway, all of this is to say that today is a quiet Sunday at home, made remarkable only by the fact that it's the last time that we're planning on having sacrament meeting in our own domicile. Next Sunday will be (we're assuming) the first time that we return to a church meeting since March 2020. I have a lot of complicated feelings that I'll try to process over the next week as that approaches, but right now, I'm simply trying to appreciate just how different this week is from last week. Thinking about Michelle's smiles and how happy we were out in Oregon still fills me with a fuzzy sense of completeness and happiness. I'm not one who believes that we can only understand things through opposites, but I do think that contrasts can be illuminating. And I can't think of a way to pass the day that's more different from now than what we had then. It was a different kind of Sunday, but one that I hope will live in my memories for a long time to come. |
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