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Did I tell you about TG’s and my recent trip to North Carolina?
I don’t think I’ve got around to it yet. So let’s get started.
The occasion prompting our peregrination on that day a few weeks ago, was a wedding.
The groom was our great-nephew, son of our nephew David, who is the second son (of three) of TG’s only brother.
David and his wife, Sandra, live in Charlotte.
TG and his only brother, Ron
The afternoon wedding took place at a ranch-type venue in Waxhaw (say Waks-haa), North Carolina, just over the line from South Carolina.
So, less than a ninety-minute drive for us.
I had looked forward to the wedding for months, ever since the invitation came.
The reason being, I love to see family members at these events. Most of TG’s extended family live in Michigan and Ohio.
So let’s face it: at our age, unless someone throws a family reunion, the only times we’re going to see some of these people anymore are at weddings and funerals.
Our nephew Dan and his wife Chelsey
With a few exceptions. One of them being, TG’s only sister, Ruth, is coming to visit us in a few weeks.
I am giddily planning our activities and meals and so forth, because Ruthie is a treasure and I cannot wait to have several days for us to talk and catch up. I’ll keep you in the loop.
But back to the wedding. I love weddings! That’s a pirate line (IYKYK), but not really true in my case. I have no active dislike for weddings, but nor would I describe attending a wedding as something I actively crave.
But I had planned my outfit (we’d been enjoined to dress up, as the wedding was at four-thirty, with a dinner to follow) and, as the day approached, I was truly excited about it.
I remember when the groom’s father attended TG’s and my wedding in June of 1979. He was two years old. I still have a mental picture of how he looked at that age (much like he looks now, only smaller).
Our great-nephew JR
We were there when he was married to Sandra in October of 1998, also in North Carolina.
And when their son, the groom, was a toddler, I remember him swimming and playing in our pool along with his big sister.
He had found a beautiful bride and it was going to be a happy occasion to see them united in marriage.
Now here’s where the torment comes in.
I should pull over and park here for a mo. And be what I am sure will be interpreted by some, as controversial.
Pirate!
Our great-great-niece Emmaline
May as well come right out and say it: I despise outdoor weddings.
They strike fear in my heart. Actual dread. Why? Oh dear. Where shall I begin.
The weather. Sun. Heat. Humidity. Rain. Wind. Bugs. Exposure to the elements. Unpredictability of any number of conditions (on this day, our niece Angie was being bitten by fire ants during the vows ... I rest my case).
I have planned three weddings and not a one of my daughters would have dreamed of suggesting getting married outside.
We will never know whether that’s because they didn’t want to or they somehow knew I would refuse, but it doesn’t matter.
There was a breeze for a while
I am old-school without apology. I’m of the get-married-and buried-from-church ilk. Think tradition-core.
Now: can an outdoor wedding be charming? Can it work? Of course. If the stars align just so, on your luckiest day of your entire life. Go ahead and come at me.
Andrew and Brittany married (also in North Carolina) outdoors, and they were extremely fortunate with the weather conditions on the day.
It was neither cold nor hot; the sky was overcast but rain was not threatened; and there was no discernible wind. We were able to dress sumptuously for the semi-formal occasion, and not be uncomfortable.
Like I said: extremely fortunate. Because for everything to come together like that, is rarer than I have the stomach for. There are far too many uncontrollable variables.
I'll wager there was air conditioning inside
So, fast forward to a few weeks ago, when TG and I found ourselves the willing participants in an outdoor wedding in Western North Carolina towards the end of September.
In fact, it was still summer. For a few more days.
And brace yourselves because here comes the torment part: On the day, it was ninety degrees, with no cloud cover, and approximately seventy percent humidity. Maybe seventy-five percent.
Yes. You read that correctly. In other words, may as well put me in a blast furnace with a lawn chair and a good book and tell me to have a fabulous time.
Virtually impossible.
The scene of the initial torture
For extra misery, add that the one hundred guests had dressed up in accordance with the couple’s stated wishes.
Which for me means, a nice dress with all appropriate attendant underpinnings, high heels, and full makeup and glam hair and jewelry and all the flourishes.
I mean, for me that’s a normal Tuesday (although this was a Saturday), but still. I’m used to being dressed up.
But what I am NOT used to is standing around in full sun. No matter how I’m dressed. Anyone who knows me knows, because they’ve heard me say it a time or ten: I don’t do the sun.
In fact, TG and I brought from our car a big golf umbrella because I had looked at the pictures of the venue online, and realized that the actual wedding would take place out in a field with zero cover from direct sun.
Our s-i-l Marcia, grandmother of the groom, being walked
(We sat in the back row so that I could hold that umbrella over my head and that of our niece-by-marriage, Chelsey, who wisely sat beside me, to shield us from the onslaught of overzealous rays.)
The ceremony was blessedly brief. The officiant even commented, tongue-in-cheek, as we were being dismissed for a pre-dinner social hour, about the “balmy” weather.
Because that weather was balmy like a straight pin is a steel rivet. That weather was brutal. But wait! There is more.
Even before then I had spied, a distance from the altar, a party tent with three open sides. Tables were arranged within. And that’s when I knew that there would be no relief from the heat and stupidity humidity for many hours.
I knew there were barns on the property, probably air conditioned, where receptions could be held. I had been hoping against hope that that was the plan. But no.
TG talking to our niece Angie
Post-ceremony, TG and I stood around conversing for a while. I introduced myself to the bride, the latest Mrs. Weber, and told her that now for the rest of her life when asked her name, she will say “Weber with one B” — because she will soon learn that if not, she’ll be given the extra B by default.
Something I will never understand, if I live to be ninety (with seventy percent humidity). It’s Weber like the grill. Easy. Maybe that’s what I should say going forward, when asked my name: Weber like the grill. I’ll think about it when I’ve cooled down.
At any rate we caught up with various relatives and marveled at how big all of the kids are getting. I produced my handkerchief and mopped my radiant brow more than once. I took a few pictures.
Eventually TG and I pulled away from the clots of revelers and walked towards the reception tent. I thought, if I could only rest, and get a drink of water, maybe my internal temperature would come down a degree or two.
We found our table number and claimed our seats. There were cups of water already at the places, but the ice had melted. I drank some anyway. Pretty sure I was dehydrated by that time.
A remembrance of the wedding
It was no cooler in the tent. In fact the sweltering air seemed trapped in there. As a guest favor, each place had been set with an attractive gift candle. Perhaps in case we needed to generate more heat! How thoughtful.
Eventually everyone wandered that way, found their seats, and the party began. We had a nice meal. It was difficult to have meaningful conversation at our table, because we were all so hot and it was exhausting.
Two hours later, as it was getting dark and the party seemed to be picking up in pace, TG and I decided that it was time to throw in the towel. Nothing more could be accomplished here. Go home, take showers, and enter the recovery phase.
And so we did. The next day was Sunday. On Sunday mornings, unless providentially hindered, we go to church.
The sweetheart table
And TG did get up and go to church. But I was still so wiped out from the hours of heat torment, that I could barely wiggle, much less get dressed up again and go anywhere.
I rested all morning and afternoon, and went to church for evening services.
But even before then, I had made a decision, which I announced to TG and Audrey and Erica (who had not attended the wedding).
I said, and I quote: Never again. Never. As in, I do not care who is getting married; I will never again attend an outdoor wedding if the temperature is predicted to be above sixty degrees. And I mean it.
I’ll send a present but my presence will not be possible.
Me and my beloved niece Angie
Because folks, this is what is baffling to me: Why on earth would anyone think that a hundred people will enjoy sitting and standing around in direct sun and stifling heat and withering, soul-stultifying humidity, for four to six hours, with no relief?
Why would anyone think that that’s the recipe for a grand old time for wedding guests? When in fact it is a disaster dressed to the nines, full of Wheaties, and waiting in the wings to eat everyone alive?
If anyone can enlighten me on these points, feel free and I will try to see it your way. But it won’t change anything.
Never again.
That is where I stand, until the day break, and the shadows flee away!
And that is all for now.
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Happy Thursday
