Love American Style

David joined us at the Marriott the night of the 18th (he had flown into Newark, not D.C. for a host of reasons) and yesterday morning we three drove down to Williamsburg, Va., for my nephew’s wedding. His fiancé is an only daughter and it was a money’s-no-object type of wedding. Eight bridesmaids, eight groomsmen/best men, four cameramen/videographers, one drone, three beauticians, three wedding planners with clipboards and headpiece microphones. All the excess aside, I told myself the same thing I thought after Dara’s son’s bar mitzvah--held in a modest hotel in Binghamton, N.Y. where many expenses were spared. This is for the young people, the young people are enjoying it, let them have their fun.

My sister and I don’t speak so I wasn’t entirely looking forward to the big event. Years ago she requested that I stay out of her life during a conversation in which she said a lot of things to me that made me realise that that was indeed the best option. I entertained the thought of introducing myself at the wedding as the evil sister, which I expect is how I’m known to Beth’s friends. David suggested I wear a skinned Dalmatian and pass myself off as Cruella de Vil. As it happens, this is what I wore. Here’s me and mom at the Williamsburg Lodge.

And here’s himself.

My nephew said I looked like the aunt who lives abroad, so my job was done. I brought a fascinator for mom to wear too, but she declined. This being Williamsburg, we had two pipers and a drummer lead a procession from the reception to the dinner. Note the newlywed’s initials projected onto the floor.

Here is where the bride and groom sat. Apparently couples don’t sit with family anymore.

First dance.

A highlight for me was sitting with our former neighbours from when we lived in Derry, Mr. and Mrs. Weber. They now live near my sister’s family.

My job was to get my mother there and to get her back to Parkersburg, so I did my part.
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