No. 243: Father of the Bride

I could not fit the entire dress onto the paper.

There's a wedding this afternoon in Bazetta Baptist Church.  It's a small place, just eight pews a side, and the aisle is very short -- a good thing for this father of the bride.
I'm sure to have blurry vision from a few tears. I almost cried at the rehearsal -- said it was allergies.
Got a new suit, shirt, tie, shoes and belt. Haven't had this many new clothes at once since my own wedding 29 years ago.

The first pane of glass shattered. This is Plexiglas.

I've joked for nearly two years about "passing the torch" to Keith, husband of the bride and father to the grandson. Torch? Ha. More than likely he will be trying to hold on to a rocket.
My first child, Kara, has her mother's forceful dynamic and my big mouth, and her own lethal brown eyes. Somehow two very average people made two beautiful daughters.
I still call her "Keezle," the little girl who found a cat in the trash and put him in our mailbox, brought home two more felines and four or five dogs, a rabbit, lizards, crickets, fish, turtles, an iguana. All for Daddy to take care of, many for more than a decade.

Choose wisely.

Waylon. Weez. Santino. Bella. Corly. Hank. Sam.  
Pook.
Beanie Babies.
Girl Scouts.
Dance lessons.
Braces.
Prom dresses.

We lost Waylon a month before the wedding.

Ford Mustang.
Four (or five) types of education.
Bitchin' tan. Even in February.
Tattoos.
Michael Kors.
Loans, lawyers, lunacy.
"Yes huh!"

Kara after a bath, 1989

I still jump every time Kara's name pops up on my phone. God knows, what's next?
I swear at Kara more than anything else.
Love. Hate. Spit. Love.
Cry. Ache. 

We had lots of books.  Anthony now has many books.

They say that I've been "blessed with girls."
Just who ARE "they" ??
Her poor sister Emily has been in the background of all of Kara's life dramas, and there have been several, including this wedding.
The second child always feels like she's No. 2 but that's not true.
She is much taller ... she'll be taking off her shoes at the reception.

Emily, Kara and Sam

Each girl -- each woman, now -- has her own strengths and weaknesses. They support each other, even if they rarely agree with each other.
Both have good, built-in bullshit detectors. They get that from me.
Both have slammed doors off hinges. They get that from mom.
Thrown things. Again, mom.
My grandson Anthony is a door slammer too. The force is strong within him.
He also has those same lethal brown eyes. Irresistible.
Odds are that he will spend most of his evening with the grandpas.
Grandpa Tom. Grandpa Bill.
Now we are patriarchs.

"We are out here in the grass and ants are crawling up our pants."

There's a fishing pond outside of Candlelite Knolls, the reception hall, and the "old men" have thought about hitting that.
Emily is the one who learned and loves to fish. Kara never liked the worms and would throw rocks into the water to scare the fish.
Or, to save them.
God I miss my cigars.

Crayons, 1991

It has been such a struggle to make this night, and this union, a reality.
Things have not been easy for the young couple and their son, and this has made things difficult for the parents of both.
 

"Unity Tree" planted for Anthony, Keith and Kara.

My wife Patty will tell you that she ran nearly every errand for nearly a year. Kara would be blocked, then unblocked, from her cell phone.
Dresses, decorations, centerpieces.
A whole lot of cookies.
Saying "yes" to the dress.
Love. Hate. Spit. Love.
Cry. Ache. 

Look what we did!

The mother-daughter bond is probably stronger than than a father's. It's definitely more painful.
Small things can explode into big deals with just one text message.
Enjoy those f**king chair covers, for example. They caused a month of drama and are not standard equipment. Don't they look nice?
Be sure to thank Judi and Bill Armistead for the booze and the ice. He's been bagging cubes for a week.
Scotch, ice. Repeat.

"Dad, can we keep him?"

They say it's bad luck to see the bride in her gown before the wedding.
Bad luck? That's my trademark. I own it.
Meh.
Emily had snapped a photo in the dressing room months ago, and I took some liberties in drawing it -- removing glasses, darkening and lengthening Kara's hair to bring her into the present.

I kept this drawing under wraps for about two months.

I know that the only things people really want to look good at a wedding reception are the bride and the food.
But I tried with the drawing, too. Feel free to stop and check it out.
Then, keep on moving. It's a party.
Have fun -- but don't break anything. Clean up your messes and tell your kids, "Remember to flush."
These Cortland Optimists are a picky bunch and I can't afford any mayhem. We already pissed 'em off by rearranging their tables.
We had to hire a Bazetta Township cop for security, just in case.  And Cortland cops (Officer Jules!) and the German Shepherd are watching the neighborhood.
My family is small but dangerous. Gerry, Pam, Chick ...

Practice pose.

But she does look good, right?
She busted out a four foot pane of glass when I first placed the drawing into the frame. Shattered all over my drawing board.
It's those goddamned boobs.
Like the bride: Always bigger and louder than anyone else.

Good luck finding a wall for this!