Fifteen years ago today, I married the love of my life.
The day was a warm, New Orleans winter day, and family and friends from across the Southeastern US and beyond joined us in the celebration up at Tulane's Middle American Research Institute.
Some memories of that day:
We held our wedding and reception at the museum with a 1920s theme, pulling out, dusting off and polishing all kinds of equipment and furniture from early expeditions by Franz Blom out of MARI's archives.
Kathe and I asked the late Munro Edmonson to sing at our wedding; we requested that he perform one of the rancheros for which he was famous. After considering for a week, Ed declined the request, because, as he stated, "I went through every ranchero I could think of and there was not a single one that did not deal with unrequited love."
Instead, he sang a song he had sung to his own bride in Paris years earlier.
Parker Lawton was the best man. Still is.
My incredible cousins Katie Lawton Carpenter, Andrew Lawton, and Mary Laurel Varghese played the music - there was a bloody string ensemble at my wedding, for crying out loud. (Their sole instruction on the music choices was that there was to be NO Pachelbel. Not a single D chord anywhere.)
They absolutely blew me away with their amazing music.
After the ceremony, we held the reception in the MARI classroom, and during the middle of the reception, I announced that my mother had asked me permission to sing at the wedding. Since the reception was technically still part of the wedding celebration, I was inviting her to sing.
She led us in a rousing chorus (complete with hand motions) of "The Itsy Bitsy Spider." (I still giggle at the memory of a bunch of staid college professors looking perplexed as their hands involuntarily made the 'climb up the water spout' motion.
My dad told me, on the morning of the wedding, that he had received a piece of advice from HIS father when he got married. "Your graddaddy told me something that I am going to pass on to you. When your bride comes into view in that wedding dress, fix that moment in your mind. Because never again in your life will you see a more beautiful woman." Neither Dad nor Granddad were particularly inclined towards the romantic, which made that statement all the more powerful.
They were right. I saw her rounding the corner of the stairs, and my sister reports that my knees buckled.
To those of you who were there, thank you for sharing that moment with me. It was the best day of my life. To those who were not, you missed one heck of a party.
Fifteen years have seen a lot of changes between us and around us, but the woman I married that day is still the most amazing, talented, most beautiful woman in the world.
I can't wait to spend the next fifteen years with her.
The day was a warm, New Orleans winter day, and family and friends from across the Southeastern US and beyond joined us in the celebration up at Tulane's Middle American Research Institute.
Some memories of that day:
We held our wedding and reception at the museum with a 1920s theme, pulling out, dusting off and polishing all kinds of equipment and furniture from early expeditions by Franz Blom out of MARI's archives.
Kathe and I asked the late Munro Edmonson to sing at our wedding; we requested that he perform one of the rancheros for which he was famous. After considering for a week, Ed declined the request, because, as he stated, "I went through every ranchero I could think of and there was not a single one that did not deal with unrequited love."
Instead, he sang a song he had sung to his own bride in Paris years earlier.
Parker Lawton was the best man. Still is.
My incredible cousins Katie Lawton Carpenter, Andrew Lawton, and Mary Laurel Varghese played the music - there was a bloody string ensemble at my wedding, for crying out loud. (Their sole instruction on the music choices was that there was to be NO Pachelbel. Not a single D chord anywhere.)
They absolutely blew me away with their amazing music.
After the ceremony, we held the reception in the MARI classroom, and during the middle of the reception, I announced that my mother had asked me permission to sing at the wedding. Since the reception was technically still part of the wedding celebration, I was inviting her to sing.
She led us in a rousing chorus (complete with hand motions) of "The Itsy Bitsy Spider." (I still giggle at the memory of a bunch of staid college professors looking perplexed as their hands involuntarily made the 'climb up the water spout' motion.
My dad told me, on the morning of the wedding, that he had received a piece of advice from HIS father when he got married. "Your graddaddy told me something that I am going to pass on to you. When your bride comes into view in that wedding dress, fix that moment in your mind. Because never again in your life will you see a more beautiful woman." Neither Dad nor Granddad were particularly inclined towards the romantic, which made that statement all the more powerful.
They were right. I saw her rounding the corner of the stairs, and my sister reports that my knees buckled.
To those of you who were there, thank you for sharing that moment with me. It was the best day of my life. To those who were not, you missed one heck of a party.
Fifteen years have seen a lot of changes between us and around us, but the woman I married that day is still the most amazing, talented, most beautiful woman in the world.
I can't wait to spend the next fifteen years with her.
2 comments:
Beautiful tribute!
That first moment was a knee-buckler for me too. I saw Hope round the corner and made a very audible, involuntary gasp. I can still see her in my mind. Absolutely the most beautiful woman in the world.
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