The setting was perfection:
All the elements were in place:
The bride was properly teased:
The Executive Porta-potties checked out — tile floors, CD players, air-conditioning. Ready for take-off:
All that was left was for the perfect theater to begin:
Kitty, the bride’s mother, on the arm of Christopher, the bride’s brother
Ruth Hunter and Son/Groom, Cliff
And since the internet suddenly is working magnificently, here are some other of my favorite photos:
Great-grandmother Carol (my sister) takes the littlest member of the family off for a bit of TLC.
The Bride’s brother (my nephew) Christopher plays and sings and surprises his parents with their favorite song. Chris spent most of the rest of the festivities, playing and singing, with his band and then around the campfire, along with a whole host of other family members. What joy, to come from a family of musicians.
This is my cousin, Doris, at least 8 years older than I am, second in line for the family jewels (wherever they are) and still a pip! As you can see. After dinner she and her (older) sister Betty and Jer did most of the dinner plates while I, um, socialized. That’s Kitty, the bride’s mom, right above Doris’s left shoulder. Doris and my mother worked alongside Dad and a bunch of other family men to make the “camp” habitable, back in the late 60s and early 70s. She not just family; she’s my sister.
It’s probably not fair to show brother Mike at exactly this moment, but I can’t resist this photo. I think he’s probably wondering if there’s enough champagne for everyone. Or maybe he just spotted a blade of grass that needed mowing.
I didn’t take many photos after the ceremony — there was all the food and the salutes to the couple and their families and the talking and socializing and figuring out who was who among the 100-plus guests and then there was music. And more music. And a fine dance floor (the outline of all those feet can still be seen in the grass) and fine music to dance to and all kinds of people to dance with — if one didn’t want to, anther did. The home-brewed beer was better than any beer I’ve tasted and the only reason I didn’t drink more was I kept putting my glass down to dance. And at 11, when the band shut down, the music started up around the campfire. I dragged Jer home (that’s my story) at 2 AM and slept as if I had just had one of the best nights of my life. Which I had. Which I did not memorialize in photos because I was too busy enjoying.
Today is Wednesday; the wedding was last Saturday. I’ve got two paintings begun and notions about what else I want to do. Mike and Kitty have provided us with everything we could possibly want for a six-week stay; and Jer just did a humongous shopping trip down at the big grocery store in Lock Haven. He had to ask where to buy wine in a small PA town, but he found it and came home with perhaps enough vino to last me out our stay. (Kitty might have to help me drink it, of course). The neighbors have lent us their security key for the computer, the flotilla of ducks and the flope-flope herons are patrolling the creek and the birds keep singing their hearts out for us.
Life is good.