FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH
| “Chapter Two” |
Issue 76 |
|
| By: Ron Brounes |
May 2006 |
It was the
best of times. It was the best of times. (How’s that for newfound optimism?) Well, finally after 43 years, three months,
and one day of single life, I decided to move beyond the comfort of
bachelorhood and take the plunge into holy matrimony (and wedded bliss, I’m
told). And in the process, I even
“robbed the cradle,” so to speak, by snatching my “trophy bride” of 41 years,
11 months, and three days. Even in
married life, my jealous friends continue to live vicariously through me. (Was I not supposed to reveal her age? I have so much to learn.) While the wedding
weekend went off without a hitch, I must admit that there were quite a few
nervous moments experienced in the days preceding. Every couple includes one individual who
panics unnecessarily from time to time and another who remains calm throughout
any and all “stressful” times. (I won’t
embarrass anyone by sharing who is the Nervous Nellie in our
relationship.)
My weekend actually started that Thursday evening
when I met a few buddies for one “last supper.”
That evening we all enjoyed steaks and scotches and I received some last
minute “manly” advice. (Actually, my Floridian bro-in-laws chugged an appletini or two, while they intently listened to tales of
my rowdy past.) My lovely bride-to-be
likewise spent a nice evening with her good friends, where (I hear) they
chatted endlessly about floral arrangements, table settings, china patterns,
and shared their respective husbands’ favorite dinner recipes with her.
ONE
DAY AND COUNTING
By Friday morning, I was perfectly calm and eagerly
awaiting the weekend festivities. When
all of sudden…I could NOT find the
“stomping glass” (the one I was supposed to smash to “smithereens” in the Jewish
wedding ceremony); AND we had a last minute cancellation (her friends) which
threw our table seating assignments into TOTAL disarray; THEN I received a few
calls from out-of-town guests who informed me that the hotel check-in clerks
were NOT handing out the hospitality baskets. Needless to say, even the
most level headed, “ice in the veins” fellow would be forced to panic just a
bit. With those pieces of news, I
couldn’t help but think “THE WEEKEND IS
RUINED.” Luckily, I rushed to fix
these catastrophes before Barb found out.
(There is no telling how she would have reacted.) After a thorough search of the house, I found
the glass (in the box labeled “wedding stuff”), rearranged the tables as best I
could (sorry Aunt Eunice), and headed to the hotel where I proceeded to give
the desk manager one serious tongue lashing over the incompetence of his
staff. (I believe one of us may have
cried?) With these “major” issues
miraculously resolved by early afternoon, my justified nervousness passed and I
began to enjoy the weekend by visiting with guests (who were finally receiving
their baskets).
That evening, we all wined and dined on some
authentic Texas Cajun fare (a little known demographic in the
THE
BIG DAY ARRIVES
As we had been warned, much of Saturday April 1st
simply flew by. Actually, it started and
progressed like virtually any other Saturday.
I enjoyed the company of some out-of-town buds at a local Bar BQ eatery
and even partook in a mid-afternoon jog at the hotel fitness center (once an
athlete…). I watched a bit of the Final
Four (unfortunately, sans
And then came the blur (and not because of the
liquid refreshments). Apparently, we
walked down the aisle, exchanged personal vows (her suggestion), listened to
some moving (and often comical) words of the Rabbi and the enchanting voice of
the Cantor, stomped a glass, shared a first kiss as husband and wife, and
proceeded back down the aisle to a rousing ovation and some sighs of
disbelief. We were swept into a sitting
room (where some tasty appetizers and a scotch were waiting) before being
introduced for the first time as Mr. & Mrs. Ronald
Brounes. We showed off the benefits of
dance lessons (that we never took), quickly dined on a fabulous meal, wandered
from table to table greeting guests, and literally danced the night away as the
happy couple. In reality, we both
recollect most everything from the night.
Mainly, we hoped it would never end.
In fact, when the band announced the last dance, Barb suggested we
continue the party with EVERYONE heading down to the hospitality suite. (She was undoubtedly nervous about the
wedding night.) I immediately rejected
that idea which led to our first marital squabble…and resolution. (By the way…I won.)
The highlights of the honeymoon were many (though
often not repeatable in this family forum).
We experienced a lengthy layover at the Honolulu airport (carefully
timed to catch the NCAA Final game), enjoyed the sights, sounds, and sun of the
Big Island and Maui (including the commercial and expensive luau), drank a
tropical cocktail or two out of coconut shells, dined on some outstanding meals
(including a few helpings of the best onion rings we’ve ever had), embarked on
excursions to Hana, a volcano, and on a snorkeling
expedition (where Barb learned of my propensity for car sickness, seasickness,
and a newfound fear of giant turtles).
We even spent a few hours at the
MANY
THANKS
Despite the occasional panic attack (guess who?),
the wedding weekend went quite smoothly.
Fortunately, we had a host of exceptional individuals who helped us with
various aspects of the planning and deserve a plug here. Evelyn Roth coordinated invitations, menu
cards, table cards, and, of course, our yarmulkes; Eileen Lee “calligraphied” the wedding invites and handled all
associated mailings; photographer David Jones and videographer
Scott Charleson beautifully captured the evening for
generations to see; Ben at Village Flowery turned the rooms into a
wonderland; Mindy Rosenthal scribed the
table place cards. The timeless (and
tireless) band Midstream rocked the night away.
The Four Seasons Hotel (Melissa Bustos) threw
a heck of a shindig as guests are still raving about the food and the room
accommodations. Cakes and Culinary
Creations was responsible for those scrumptious bride
and groom cakes. Last but not least,
Robin Perlo
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FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH is a