Ashley’s Wedding

Roughly 15 years ago my niece, Ashley, held her wedding on a sweltering evening in mid-August. Everyone thinks they know hot. Everyone thinks they know humid. If you haven’t spent an August in Jonesboro, Arkansas you know neither hot nor humid. In August, if the air moves at all, you feel more like a dog panting on you than anything else. The warm and oh-so-humid dog breath breeze does more than make you uncomfortable. It makes you miserable because it usually is just enough breeze to bring airborne visitors from the rice fields south of Jonesboro into Jonesboro. On the last puff of a breeze, mosquitoes the size of sparrows swarm like flying vampire biker gangs and immediately begin sucking blood, bone marrow and the very life force from those unfortunate enough to get caught in either darkness or shade. Home sweet home.

On the day of the wedding, my wife and I were supposed to make sure Mom was at the Church on time. That was our mission. Get mom, and get her to the church with time to spare because Mom’s not happy when Mom has to hurry. Mom likes to take her time getting ready, and so Landi and I enjoyed a couple of cocktails while mom finished getting ready. Landi was as beautiful as she has ever been with every hair in it’s place, and perfectly applied makeup. I was wearing my freshly pressed suit. I had my crisply starched, white shirt with the French cuffs sporting my gold Ole Miss cuff-links. My freshly cut hair was neatly combed. We were a sharp looking couple. Ten minutes before we were going to leave for the church, and a full 25 minutes before the wedding, the phone rang. It was my sister, Sweat Pea.

“You’ve got Aunt Dorthy?”, she asked.

“No”, I replied. “Am I supposed to?” I asked.

“Mother was supposed to get Aunt Dorthy from the nursing home. ”, came the response.

“Shit…. Ok, no sweat. I’ll take care of it. ”, I assured her, and I hung up. I told Mom that we had to get Aunt Dorthy. After a brief discussion, it was decided that Mom would drive herself to the ceremony, and that Landi and I would go get Aunt Dorthy from the nursing home and take her to the wedding. We fixed fresh cocktails, and headed out. It was a ten minute drive to the Nursing Home. On the way there,I explained to Landi just how big a role Aunt Dorthy had played in our family for so many years. First, I explained that Aunt Dorthy wasn’t really an aunt, but that’s what dad had always called her. She had worked for Mom, and later for my sister, for many years. She had a big part in raising all of my sister’s kids. I hadn’t seen Aunt Dorthy in some years. It crossed my mind as we sped through Jonesboro streets to the Nursing Home, that this might be a very fortuitous event because we’d get to spend some time with Aunt Dorthy. We pulled up in the parking lot of the Nursing Home and I walked quickly in to get Aunt Dorthy. I had parked as close as I could to the door so she wouldn’t have to walk far.

Having not seen Aunt Dorthy in several years, I was somewhat unprepared for what awaited me. Aunt Dorthy was dressed to the nines. Her hair was perfect, as was her makeup. Sitting there in her wheel chair, she was absolutely glowing. …. In her wheel chair…. .

An orderly helped me wheel Aunt Dorthy out to the Van. In the late afternoon heat of an August day in Arkansas, I was already starting to sweat. At the Van, the orderly, citing some rule, decided he could help no more, and retreated into the Nursing Home. Landi and I set about getting Aunt Dorthy into the Van. The Van, I should mention, was fairly high. It had a running board that everyone stepped on to climb up into the van. It’s not too difficult…. unless you weigh 400 lbs, have two artificial knees and can’t walk.

Aunt Dorthy slowly and painfully stood up. The wheel chair started to roll away, and I reached to grab it in case Aunt Dorthy needed to sit again, and as I stretched to grab it, I heard the tearing of fabric and felt the shoulder of my suit jacket….. give.…. just ….a…… little. Damn. But, I caught the chair, which was a good thing, because, with a pained groan, Aunt Dorthy sat back down. We locked the wheels of the wheel chair, and tried again. Slowly and wobbly, Aunt Dorthy stood. She was as tough as she was determned. With her right hand, she grasped the handle at the top of the sliding door of the van. She was making a superhuman effort and it was painful, but she was going to make it! Then, she started to fade. All sense of modesty lost,I shifted my position so that I could get my shoulder under her butt. I squatted down, and again, I heard the tearing of fabric, and felt a new looseness in my pants. I get my shoulder under her and lifted as hard as I could, but made little progress until I reached with my left hand to grab the frame of the captains chair we were trying to get her in. Again, the sound of tearing fabric and a new freedom in my left shoulder told me I had torn out that sleeve too, but not for nothing, Aunt Dorthy was now sitting peacefully in one of the captain’s chair in the back of the van.

I looked at Landi. Sweat was running down both her cheeks. Her running mascara gave her a little of an ‘Alice Cooper’ look. Her beautiful dress was marked with sweat and wrinkled beyond belief. Her hair was…interesting. She smiled at me, and I smiled at her.

I was covered in sweat. I could feel my shirt sticking to my chest and I had torn the shoulder out of both of the arms of my suit, and split the seat of my pants but in the rear view mirror I could see Aunt Dorthy smiling in the back seat. I again looked at Landi, and she looked at me. We laughed a little and with the air conditioner going full blast, we headed to the wedding.

At the church, I stopped the var right at the handicap entrance. I would pay the ticket if I got one, but I wanted Aunt Dorthy as close to the door as possible. Getting Aunt Dorthy out of the van was much less trouble than getting her in. With Aunt Dorthy safely in her wheel chair, Landi and I began trying to navigate to the sanctuary of the church. The signs directed us to an elevator. Emerging from the elevator, we saw a door marked ‘Sanctuary’. Landi pulled the door open, and I pushed Aunt Dorthy through the door…. . into the sanctuary…. . the front of the sanctuary…. . behind the wedding party…. . during the ceremony.

As inconspicuously and quickly as possible, I wheeled Aunt Dorthy off the stage. With the ceremony in full swing, all eyes were on us as we slipped down the groaning handicap ramp and into the handicap space. I could feel my sister’s gaze burning my skin. Landi sat down beside me. We were watched the rest of the ceremony and marshaled our strength.

After the ceremony, I asked Mom if she would ride to the reception with Landi in the van so I could put Aunt Dorthy in her Lincoln, and Mom was agreeable, so that’s what we did. Hoping to beat the crowd, Aunt Dorthy and I went directly to my sister’s house. I hoped that I’d be able to get a close parking place,but that plan didn’t work out so well. Cars were backed up all the way down the driveway, so I drove past the house, and parked a couple of blocks away. I helped Aunt Dorthy out of the car and into her wheel chair and began slowly pushing a 400lb lady back up the road in the smothering heat of a mid-August evening wearing the remnants of what once was a fine suit. The last leg of the journey was up the hill of the driveway. I had to really lean into it to get her up the hill because the leather soles of my shoes slipped easily on the polished concrete driveway. I was sweating like mad. My shirt was completely stuck to my back, and as the sweat ran down my face, and into my eyes, blinding me, I had to dodge a couple of cars that came flying down the drive, apparently driven by the ‘valet’ parking guys. Valet parking?

Finally, we entered the reception. Aunt Dorthy was in her glory. She knew everyone there, and probably for the first time in her life, she held court. Everyone had to visit Aunt Dorthy! She knew everyone because she had watched them all grow up. While she was visiting with someone, she mentioned to me that she was a little hungry. Landi got her a fresh glass of wine, and I went into the dining room to fix her a plate from the buffet. My sister’s dining room table is huge. It will comfortably seat 30 people.

On this massive table the caterer had done a magnificent job presenting an absolute abundance of wonderful food. It was incredible. As I surveyed the beautiful buffet, in the corner of my eye, I sensed, more than saw, someone bump a tall cabinet. The tall candle on the cabinet wobbled back and forth a couple of time, finally teetering just a smidgen too far. It fell coming to rest against the antique tapestry hanging on the wall. I shouted to the person beside the cabinet, but in the low rumble of the crowd they didn’t hear me. I shouted louder, but no effect. Everyone was eyeballing the shrimp. I moved close, but the crowd, all waiting to get to the food, was slow to part. “That’s on fire!”, I said as I pointed excitedly and pushed my way through a determined and hungry crowd. I was almost there, when with a muffled ‘whoomp’, the tapestry burst into flames. It was a real fire, with flames nearly a foot tall.

The room went oddly quiet, and someone said “Hey…that’s on fire!” Now the crowd froze in place. Almost in unison they looked at the fire. I took this opportunity to drive my way through to the cabinet. I jumped up on top of the cabinet, and began pounding the flames with my bare hands, trying to knock the fire down. ‘Get me a towel’, I shouted to the nearest guy. He just looked at me. A very kind lady handed me a paper napkin.

“I need water!!”, I shouted. Someone keenly observed, “Dude! That’s on fire.”

Still, no one moved. No one put a plate down. The shrimp was going fast. I was pounding the fire with paper napkins, and a plastic cup. Sparks and smoke were filling the room. “I need something wet!!!!”, I shouted. Everyone split their attention between the food on the table and the fire on the wall, but no one paused from filling their plates. They were closing in on the roast beef. Finally, the chef ran out of the kitchen with a wet towel.

In just a few seconds the fire was out but not before leaving a huge hole burned in the tapestry, and an ominous black smudge on the wall, with those creepy smoke stains going up to the ceiling.

I climbed down off the cabinet and fixed Aunt Dorthy a plate all the while listening to the murmured comments about the fire. I took Aunt Dorthy’s plate to her. She was still holding court and having the time of her life. Landi looked at me with horror…. and that ‘What the hell happened to you?’ look in her eyes.

I went to the bar.

The bar tender was facing away when I approached. He turned and looked at me. Startled, he recovered and slowly he took in the whole state of my disrepair.

My coat had both the shoulders torn out and the front pocket was ripped. My shirt tail was out and my white shirt was covered with black soot. My face was streaked with black soot and sweat. Sweat had run down my face drawing clear lines in the soot, and my shirt was stuck to me. My tie was badly burned and one eyebrow was completely gone. My hair was probably still smoking some. He sniffed the air, obviously taking in the aroma of burnt hair, sweat and wet plaster.

The bartender smiled, reached for the bourbon, and said “You must be Uncle Bill. They warned me about you. “

Sometimes warnings are not sufficient.

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