It's a long story.
It's complicated.
It is a story without digital images embedded.
It is a story in which you will have to create in your mind your own images from only the words on the screen.
Warning -- some of the pictures will not be pretty pictures.
This is a story of a typical wedding with two rings, this is also a story of a wedding that happened inside of a three-ring circus (that is, in its most common vernacular metaphorical context), this is a story that has a happy ending - eventually.
We have friends.
We have long had good friends named the McCords.
Our friends the McCords have a daughter and a son.
The daughter and the son are about the same ages as our daughter and our son.
We raised our families together over the last quarter of a century-plus, we are all good friends and have been for a long time.
The McCord's daughter, Brianna, announced her engagement to Peter.
My wife, Sue, said to Brianna's mother, Donna, "We will be willing to be 'Wedding Central' at our house. This was a good and kind thought since the McCords now live in East Texas 103 miles SE of our house and our house is convenient and close (relatively speaking) to The Old City Park near downtown Dallas, which is where the wedding of Brianna and Peter will take place on Sunday, October 28.
[You have been warned, some of it is not a pretty picture]
Very early on and a long time ago now, I asked; "What pray tell does 'Wedding Central' mean?" My wife said she thought that it meant that our house would be a place to store table center-piece arrangements the day before the wedding and maybe all of the ladies could gather at our house and arrange the floral elements of the wedding while Sue served dainty lady lunchie-things to the bride, bride's maids, mother of the bride and friends of the mother of the bride. I was quickly given a pass to take Kirby (the father of the bride) and myself out for a manly cheeseburger and a beer so as to stave off 'estrogen poisoning'. I can handle all of that I thought. Bring all the ladies to 'Wedding Central'. Bring it on. Bring it ALL on.
As weeks and months passed, the concept of 'Wedding Central' evolved. As the new details filtered in, 'Wedding Central' would become a staging area for all of the props, paraphernalia and pretties for the occasion. Since the McCords decided to do almost everything themselves for the wedding, this meant a whole lot of stuff.
As 'Wedding Central' evolved, our house became not only the staging area and warehouse, it was now needed to be a hotel. Parents of the bride would need to stay in town and have quick access to the ceremonial paraphernalia so they were graciously offered the guest bedroom. We were truly delighted to host our long-time good friends. Also, a friend of the McCords, who resides in Dublin (which is a long ways away in the country of Ireland) would be visiting and attending the wedding, and she was offered our daughter's old room upstairs; which was not quite up to 'guest room status' but it is what we had and we were happy to have Marianne staying with us. Marianne was a total delight and so very helpful through all of events. Marianne seemed to be an experienced 'Ring Mistress', as she was masterful in conducting the unfolding events under the Wedding Central Big Top.
As plans continued to (r)evolve rapidly at 'Wedding Central', in addition to warehouse and hotel we hung out the shingle as canine kennel too. The McCords would need to bring Pogo with them from East Texas. But wait! There's more! The bride will also needed to have her dog Buffy stay with us along with Pogo. We know and like Pogo and Buffy and besides they are family to our good friends the McCords.
Welcome All!
Welcome to the Greatest Show on Earth!
Kirby got the key to our house from Sue at work and then drove the 6 miles to our front door and began unloading the contents of the trailer and the friend's car and stacking boxes and feathers and vases and bridal clothing around our living room. Once unloaded, Kirby headed back to East Texas with a promise to return tomorrow with the Mother of the Bride, Marianne the Irish guest and two dogs and their own personal gear and clothing.
Our earlier fuzzy vision of 'Wedding Central' was now transformed and hardened by the reality inside our living room, which shouted stacked and immanent celebration ready to be unboxed and unleashed upon the world! - if not also a possible hint of potential chaos.
Kirby has returned to Garland with an empty horse trailer on Friday. But the trailer will need to be filled with rental tables and chairs for 120 guests at the rental depot which is way-and-the-heck across town on the northwest side of Dallas and hauled to Old City Park. Again there is a small window to get to the table and chair rental place before they close and then transport the truck and the filled trailer across town in Friday afternoon traffic to the venue before they lock the gate. Kirby gets lost - or possibly just lost his escort. Kirby does not have functioning cell phone navigation. The decorating lady team was waiting for Kirby to arrive at the venue. Kirby did not arrive for a very long time. It was close. But it kind of worked out OK - I am not sure how or the dirty details for this part of the story - but it did happen.
The event coordinator for Old City Park has yet to return any of Donna's calls. This is not helpful. Or, maybe Donna has the wrong number in her cell phone. Either way, this is not a pretty picture. Kirby, Donna, Marianne and the good Swindle family bust themselves Friday night off-loading the chairs and supplies to be stored on site and then hauled out of storage on Sunday afternoon to decorate the tables and make the everything festive.
Between big-city traffic, hauling and loading, and dealing with the event staff at the venue (sans coordinator), everyone is exhausted when they return to 'Wedding Central' and fall sound asleep in their respective beds Friday night. We do not see any of this as we are making an airport run to pick up our daughter, Inga, one of the bridesmaids.
As we stopped off on the way home from Love Field at a ramen noodle restaurant we were joined by several members from the Family Swindle. Being close to Halloween, the waitstaff was costumed. We were served by "Sister Steven" looking every part the stereotypical Roman Catholic Nun. I asked Sister Steven if it was all right to kiss a nun? The answer is "Yes - Just don't get in the habit". Sister Steven then wrapped my knuckles with chop sticks and told me I'd have to do a severe penitence because it was such a bad joke. Consider this my confessional appearance; Forgive me Father for I have told a bad joke.
Inga spent the night sleeping on the home office floor upstairs, since all other beds were allocated to real guests back at 'Wedding Central'. The next night, it was the plan for the bridal party to spend the night together in an Air BnB near the venue itself (which is in a shady part of town) behind locked doors. Saturday evening was to be a time for all the ladies to have their hair and manicures done at the girl's body shop. As the bridal party piled into the bride's vehicle, Inga had to move a gasoline can to the back. Inga to the bride, "What is this [gas can] doing in here?" "Oh, I might need that if I ever run out of gas." [Inga thinks, "this could be an ominous foreshadowing sign - like maybe this has happened before?] "Oh, I think I'm getting low on gas", muses the bride as she starts the ignition [Inga thinks, like most of us, 'low on gas' means around 1/4 tank].
Foreshadowing turns to just plain shadowing once they drive about 4 miles. The car dies. Oops. We're out of gas. The bridal party is within walking distance to the body shop for mani/pedi detailing. Inga and Sarah push the dead car into a corner lot while the rest of the party walks in to get their nails done up. Fortunately neither Inga nor Sarah broke a nail while pushing the empty-tanked car. The husband of one of the bridal party was notified of their distress and he drove across town to replenish the dry tank for the damsels. The engine could now once again combust internally - just like Inga was now doing. This would have been an ideal time for chivalry, for the groom to ride to the rescue of his bride and her court. No expectations that the groom would be able to be of any help in the crisis, so the groom was never notified nor called. He was nowhere to be seen while everyone else was hauling and setting up. Must be 'women's work'.
Donna muses aloud that she believes Kirby's parents would love to be a part of the rehearsal dinner, but they live in Fort Worth, 45 miles from 'Wedding Central'. Jack and Jean no longer drive, but would like to attend the festive supper. I tell Donna that I am willing to go get Kirby's parents and bring them to the rehearsal. No problem at all for me, I am happy to contribute to the greater McCord family inclusion. Conner (once he gets to town) can take his grandparents back. It is a done deal. Good. Anyway - it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Everybody else at Wedding Central has to get down to the venue to continue to establish order around the place settings and arrange for the decorations on the pews and along the candle-lit promenade. It is a busy day for everyone at the Old City Park. Sue joins the Saturday afternoon throng of busy bees crafting a beautiful environment among the old buildings.
Rehearsal dinner to follow, but only Donna and Kirby will attend. Sue and Marianne and Brenda Swindle will retire to Wedding Central.
It is time to drive over to Ft. Worth to get Jack and Jean. It is a very pleasant Indian Summer at the end of October, perfect for a reception dinner under the stars at Old City Park tomorrow, and also a very nice day this Saturday, the day before the wedding. Marianne from Ireland declares it is a downright scorcher here in Texas. My last decision is a fateful one, I decide to place Pogo and Buffy outside in our fenced backyard, with pleasant weather they can play together on the rather spacious lawn and watch any interesting traffic travel down the alley through our steel picket fence. They have their water bowl outside, and besides Pogo is a country dog and is used to the fresh air and outdoors existence.
I return from dropping Jack and Jean off in Deep Elum, the hip and happening section of Dallas, site of the rehearsal dinner; only to be met by Angie and her son Jayden, our neighbors behind us across the alley. Angie tells me, "I just got back. Jayden and I have been all over the neighborhood for half an hour! We have seen nothing." I am confused by this report. I looked confused apparently. Angie asks, "Is Sue with you?" I say, no, I was running a long errand and Sue is doing something else for our wedding guests in downtown Dallas. I have not spoken with Sue.
"Ooooh."
Jayden blurts out the story details now, he had seen a white dog breaking out of our yard through a spot with a broken weld in the iron fence. He tried to stop her, but she ran down the side of the house and went that way! [pointing emphatically] Jayden managed to get the little brown fluffy dog back inside the fence, but the white one is gone! Angie says that she called Sue to report the runaway guest. My heart sinks.
I turn right around to begin my neighborhood search for an hour and a half. I even cross over Highway 78 hoping to not find a spot of flattened white fur on the side. No luck anywhere. Pogo is either really gone, and gone far on her own paws on her way 103 miles back to her home in East Texas, or she has been scooped up by a neighbor. I am sick. I am amazed that of the 236 iron pickets, Pogo is able to locate the single loose one, and one that happens, most unfortunately, to also be at the unrepaired split-seam of hog wire at the base of the picket fence that acts as a secondary line of security (in case a picket becomes loose). This one loose picket also happens to be rather inaccessible behind a woody shrub. The perfect alignment for doggy disaster - and she happened to put it all together and make her escape. There is disaster when the circus lion-tamer looses control during the Wild Beast Act featured under the big top. The trick Circus Dogs turn out to be trickier than I had expected. What a Show!
Sue turns to social media and a neighborhood-specific app to report a lost white dog, answers to the name of Pogo.
Donna and Kirby return from the rehearsal dinner. Hi! How are things at Wedding Central? I say, "Terrible. I lost your dog. I am sorry."
Pogo has a collar and a tag on, which has her name and a phone number for the McCords. BUT -- the phone number is their home phone in East Texas. Donna does not know her access code to check her messages at home remotely. Donna calls a friend to drive over to her house and go inside and listen to any messages on the phone. The McCord's home phone is a land line and has no caller ID with it. Too bad. The friend does as instructed, then drives back to within cell phone range to report good news - sort of. There is a message. It say. "Hi. We found your dog." No name, no address nor call back number. Just "We found your dog." At least we know Pogo is not squished on some dark Garland road. Sue does additional posting on social media and we hope for some return news of the escaped beast from Wedding Central. We go to bed that night with Buffy inside while Pogo's bed is empty.
Marianne in the mean time is subtlety and very politely seeking a run to the chemist shoppe for something to help her chronic itchy ankles. We look at her ankles and suggest the increasingly reddening skin is a bad case of chiggers. Not being from around here, she is completely mystified by the diagnosis of chiggers, otherwise known as 'no-see-ums'. A microscopic mite that burrows under your epidermis and lays tiny larvae under your skin which causes rash and itching; especially after all the October rain we had. Must have gotten them at the McCords in East Texas when walking through tall grass we tell her. Yet, we all agree, we've never seen such a severe case of chiggers. Must be something about red-headed, fair Irish skin.
Marianne's chigger case grows more severe and she now wants something to discretely cover up her glowing itchy red ankles and shins. I change Marianne's diagnosis and working hypothesis from chiggers to good ol' Texas poison ivy. The red patch has now become blistered and oozing and very uncomfortable. We administer some super drugs (which makes her sleep very well) and get something to cover her irritated skin.
Marianne has not always fared well in her visits to Texas. On a previous visit she was hit in the face by a door - unintentionally, since Marianne is so very kind, gentle and sweet-natured. But she broke her nose and got two gruesome black eyes on her last visit here.
The Wedding cakes arrive at Wedding Central on Friday afternoon. They were elaborately wired down and transported in kitchen cabinet drawers removed from Donna's kitchen and packed with blue ice containers to keep the fruit-filled layers from becoming too soft. Our freezer/fridge is nowhere spacious enough to hold a couple of wedding cakes meant to feed 120. Sue was asked if she had access to a large freezer. She thought, well, no. But then checked with a neighbor who had just remodel her kitchen and in the process emptied the large freezer in her garage. Yes! It was available for wedding cake storage.
For some reason that now escapes me, plans at Wedding Central changed, and Donna opted to not use the neighbor's freezer and just rest the cakes on our kitchen counter tops until they were needed on Sunday.
Sue was up and dressed for work at church on Sunday, while we all stayed behind and comfortably moved into the Big Day of Brianna and Peter's Wedding. The McCords were planning to be doing the final set up at Old City Park early Sunday afternoon. Sue and I would follow later once she was done with her duties at church. That was the plan...
The cakes had thawed. The fruit filling had experienced differential compaction from the overlying cake layers and this had caused the cakes to shift, collapse and in the process the fondant had begun to spall off of the each finely crafted tier sitting at unfortunately inclined angles. Yes, tiers and tears were about to fall.
A call for emergency reinforcements went out to Brenda - a fancy cake decorator of some experience herself. Brenda sped to the rescue and came to a screeching halt in front of our house with her cake triage equipment. Donna and Marianne were maniacs tearing through the kitchen try to rebuild a months work in 5 hours. It was a valiant effort.
Our fridge was cleared to become an emergency cake ICU (Intensive Cooling Unit) to try and chill down the fruit layers and restore some stability. Donna rushed to our thermostat and dropped the household temperature setting to 66 degrees. I made 3 runs to Walmart and 1 run to Micheal's to fetch supplies for the triage; mini-mash mallows (44 oz), confectioner's sugar (2 lbs), 2 bags of chocolate chips, brown food coloring (I did not know you could get brown food coloring at Michael's) and a Dr. Pepper for the crew furiously mixing and spreading and bustling on every square inch of counter top and kitchen table. It was a mad, mad scene.
I was supposed to pick up my wife from church at 2 and we would drive to the wedding together where we would meet the rest of the party which planned to have already been in place setting up. I am scrambling up and down Walmart aisles with my list, when Sue calls at 2:10 to ask if I am going to pick her up? I answer curtly, "No! We have a cake disaster! I'll call you later. Stand by for further orders."
When I get home from my latest emergency shopping dispatch, I asked the harried ladies in the kitchen, "Where do you want Sue? Here at home to help with cake or down at the wedding venue?" Tell her to get her sweet cheeks to Old City Park - she will have to save us from there. Run like the wind!
In the middle of all the collapsed cake commotion it sounds like someone knocking at my front door. It is. It is Lauren from the house behind us, husband of Angie and father of Jayden. He holds up his phone with a photo on the screen and asks, "Is this your missing white dog?" Yes! It's Pogo. Where is she?
Don't know. Somebody posted this in response to Sue's lost dog listing on social media - but they did not leave any contact information. Go figure. "Lauren", I say, "Damn it. Reply and give them my cell number and ask them to call me. Thanks."
A short time later I get a call. Some people about 3 blocks away have her in their backyard. This time I get an address. Kirby and I leave the kitchen chaos behind to fetch Pogo and restore some needed order to the day. The story is that the man was getting into his Ford pickup in his driveway when a friendly white dog came bounding up and jumped into his lap. He took her into the family. Coincidentally (or not) Kirby drives a similar Ford pickup. Their story was that they thought they'd like to keep Pogo, and since nobody returned their earlier phone call they thought she might stay with them. We explained that Pogo is visiting in town for a wedding and her listed phone number is 103 miles away and nobody is home there - on account of the wedding [circus] that has come to town. They explained why they left no name or number to call them back - they assumed every phone showed who called and from what number so figured no need to say the obvious. There is a lesson here for someone to expound upon - but we are in the middle of a hot mess wedding disaster, gotta go. Pogo returns and there was much rejoicing.
Then is back to reconstructing the fondant.
As the appointed hour for the wedding approached I began to dress in tie and jacket for the occasion while receiving final orders for my small part in the rescue mission. Matron of Honor, Meredith, is married to Travis; Travis is a chef. Travis as a wedding guest has been advised through Meredith of the disintegrating dessert disaster. Travis is recruited for his professional skills and calmly assures the flummoxed females that he will come to their rescue. My orders are to take the chocolate Groom's Cake in my SUV (drive carefully!) and link up with Colonel Travis and deliver the groom's cake for restoration. The wedding cake will follow later. Run like the wind! - but don't let the cake slide.
I back in gracefully to a close-in parking space and begin seeking Chef Travis. I find him dipping large strawberries in molten chocolate. I am carrying a bit of agitation in my voice and manner, a residue from bathing in the morning's sea-of-panic. Travis looks at me coolly. Travis calmly listens to my brief recitation of the situation and then he follows me to the cake in the back of my SUV. We lift up the kitchen drawer receptacle holding the groom's cake and carry the patient on its pallet to the 19th Century storefront which will be the reception hall for the wedding. The box cover is removed and we lift the cake out of the drawer toward the display table, only to have a large piece of fondant fall to the floor. Travis takes a moment to size up the circumstances, then reaches into his kit and pulls out a pair of latex gloves and proceeds to glove up. Wow. I am impressed, Chef Travis is a consummate professional and he methodically and quickly begins to salvage the situation. The cake is no where near the condition in which it was meant to be displayed, but with a border of strategically placed strawberries, an ample amount of toole and flowers draped around the pedestal it was presentable, a medal of honor worthy effort under the command of Chef 'Colonel' Travis.
I catch glimpses of Sue, flashing and flitting about the venue, coordinating with the staff and working to implement Donna and Brianna's vision for the tables, decorations and reception set up design. Sue is covered in flower, dust, kerosene (from spilled table center piece lamps) and some sweat as she works single-handedly to execute the plan in the absence of any members of the original planning team.
All of the bride's maids are now aware of the cake crash and the subsequent major dislocation in the timing of the wedding events. The bride is enjoying her day and all of the preparations and attention, but she sort of wonders why her mother is not there for the photographer as was arranged a long time ago. The bride's maids keep the details of the day's disaster away from the bride and stoke her bliss all the while assuring her that her mother will soon be there, "just a little something else to attend to at the moment - do not worry, be happy".
Back at Wedding Central, Marianne watches the clock and then when no more can be done and time has run out, she forces Donna upstairs to transform herself into the Mother of the Bride. Donna reluctantly leaves the battlefield and retires from the kitchen to dress. Marianne and Brenda load the reconstituted wedding cake into the car and they drive quickly to get to the wedding itself. When they park, they can see that the tiered cake did not survive the trip from Wedding Central to the Wedding Venue. Tiers and tears will fall.
Everything was now in place. Inga was gliding around waiting for a few photos of the wedding party and crossed paths with her mother as she was putting the final touches on the table decorations. Inga gently suggests, "Looks like your efforts her are about done Mom, why don't I show you where you can change out of your clothes and get dressed in your wedding clothes."
Her mother replies, "Oh no, I don't think I'll have the time to change, I'll just go to the service as I am."
Inga, "Everybody is running a bit behind as it is; come on over to this building, you will have enough time to get dressed. Put that stuff down, your are really finished here and follow me."
Inga is persuasive. Inga is always right (at least in her view) - and often is.
When Sue unpacked her intentional togs for the wedding, and disrobed from what she wore when she left the church on her emergency wedding venue preparation mission, she noticed with amusement and some horror that she was wearing a mess with dust, flower, and kerosene and sporting an image which she had not noticed - but Inga certainly had. She was was now appreciative of her daughter's subtle, yet firm insistence upon a change of clothing.
Events are behind schedule, but this is not the first wedding where the schedule is off. The photographer has been discreetly informed of the reason for the late appearance of the bride's family, and she is accommodating.
When Donna does arrive, she see's her daughter in her full bridal dress and burst into tears. This is not the first wedding where the mother of the bride becomes tearful. But, unlike most such displays, this time there is a confession and an understandable outpouring of emotion after a month's worth of work on the cakes; "Oh! I've ruined your cake!" Donna sobs as she is encouraged to get in position for photographs.
Brianna the bride, to her everlasting credit and healthy perspective, chuckles; "Oh Mama, it's just a cake. Come on, get in here and smile, the cake is not important. Everything is just fine."
And wouldn't you know it. Everything was just fine. The guest had a lovely meal under the stars on a cobblestone street between vintage buildings with the pleasant atmosphere of an old rural southern village. The tables and decorations were exquisitely executed and received high marks from the professional event staff at Old City Park for their beauty and elegance.
We had an enjoyable evening as we socialized with guests and friends. In a final moment of insight and discretion, the collapsed cake was not displayed, nor served from a receiving line, but rather, it was brought to each guest at their table and no one was the wiser as to the condition and commotion and energy and long story that accompanied their piece of wedding cake. And, I will say truthfully, it was a most delicious piece of cake - one of the best cakes I've ever had the privilege to take part in and of.
It was a Happy Occasion. It was lined with silver.
On Monday morning Kirby, Donna and Marianne, along with (thankfully) Pogo and Buffy were packed along with all of the peacock feathers, vases, kerosene lamps and wedding paraphernalia and were headed back to East Texas with the noted exception of those beautiful cakes.
We of course feel the anguish of Donna after all of that work on the cakes and the emotional investment did not pan out as planned, but at the end I was grateful to be a part of the McCord's wedding big top event and to be counted as a friend among with all the rich years and all of the rich stories that we share. I enjoyed it and I am pleased to have been a participant at Wedding Central.
After the circus leaves town, we are left to clean up a lot of sawdust and manure, but it was a great show and it was great to be a part of it all!
Blessing to Brianna and Peter.
It's complicated.
It is a story without digital images embedded.
It is a story in which you will have to create in your mind your own images from only the words on the screen.
Warning -- some of the pictures will not be pretty pictures.
This is a story of a typical wedding with two rings, this is also a story of a wedding that happened inside of a three-ring circus (that is, in its most common vernacular metaphorical context), this is a story that has a happy ending - eventually.
We have friends.
We have long had good friends named the McCords.
Our friends the McCords have a daughter and a son.
The daughter and the son are about the same ages as our daughter and our son.
We raised our families together over the last quarter of a century-plus, we are all good friends and have been for a long time.
The McCord's daughter, Brianna, announced her engagement to Peter.
My wife, Sue, said to Brianna's mother, Donna, "We will be willing to be 'Wedding Central' at our house. This was a good and kind thought since the McCords now live in East Texas 103 miles SE of our house and our house is convenient and close (relatively speaking) to The Old City Park near downtown Dallas, which is where the wedding of Brianna and Peter will take place on Sunday, October 28.
Wedding Central
Under the Big Top
When my wife told me that "we" have offered to be 'Wedding Central', I was was delighted with that since we have long been good friends with the McCords. I was fine with this offer even though I did not know what happens at 'Wedding Central'. It so happens that neither did my wife really know what was to happen at 'Wedding Central'. As it unfolds in real time, nobody really had a clue as to what was going to happen at 'Wedding Central'. Suffice it to say we and the entire wedding party managed to survive and this is the tale - direct from 'Wedding Central' from which we have lived to tell. [You have been warned, some of it is not a pretty picture]
Very early on and a long time ago now, I asked; "What pray tell does 'Wedding Central' mean?" My wife said she thought that it meant that our house would be a place to store table center-piece arrangements the day before the wedding and maybe all of the ladies could gather at our house and arrange the floral elements of the wedding while Sue served dainty lady lunchie-things to the bride, bride's maids, mother of the bride and friends of the mother of the bride. I was quickly given a pass to take Kirby (the father of the bride) and myself out for a manly cheeseburger and a beer so as to stave off 'estrogen poisoning'. I can handle all of that I thought. Bring all the ladies to 'Wedding Central'. Bring it on. Bring it ALL on.
As weeks and months passed, the concept of 'Wedding Central' evolved. As the new details filtered in, 'Wedding Central' would become a staging area for all of the props, paraphernalia and pretties for the occasion. Since the McCords decided to do almost everything themselves for the wedding, this meant a whole lot of stuff.
As 'Wedding Central' evolved, our house became not only the staging area and warehouse, it was now needed to be a hotel. Parents of the bride would need to stay in town and have quick access to the ceremonial paraphernalia so they were graciously offered the guest bedroom. We were truly delighted to host our long-time good friends. Also, a friend of the McCords, who resides in Dublin (which is a long ways away in the country of Ireland) would be visiting and attending the wedding, and she was offered our daughter's old room upstairs; which was not quite up to 'guest room status' but it is what we had and we were happy to have Marianne staying with us. Marianne was a total delight and so very helpful through all of events. Marianne seemed to be an experienced 'Ring Mistress', as she was masterful in conducting the unfolding events under the Wedding Central Big Top.
As plans continued to (r)evolve rapidly at 'Wedding Central', in addition to warehouse and hotel we hung out the shingle as canine kennel too. The McCords would need to bring Pogo with them from East Texas. But wait! There's more! The bride will also needed to have her dog Buffy stay with us along with Pogo. We know and like Pogo and Buffy and besides they are family to our good friends the McCords.
Welcome All!
Welcome to the Greatest Show on Earth!
The Freight Haul
The Circus Comes to Town
In anticipation of Sunday evening's ceremony, on Thursday out in East Texas, Kirby hooked up the horse trailer to his pickup and loaded it full of boxes chocked with pre-constructed table center pieces, kerosene lamps (with kerosene inside), a wedding veil and plenty of peacock feathers since the wedding theme was peacock colors. But a horse trailer was not large enough to contain all of the wedding paraphernalia. So, the McCords have another good friend in East Texas who helped them by filling her car full of the remaining supplies and drove 103 mile to Garland along with Kirby and the horse trailer.Kirby got the key to our house from Sue at work and then drove the 6 miles to our front door and began unloading the contents of the trailer and the friend's car and stacking boxes and feathers and vases and bridal clothing around our living room. Once unloaded, Kirby headed back to East Texas with a promise to return tomorrow with the Mother of the Bride, Marianne the Irish guest and two dogs and their own personal gear and clothing.
Our earlier fuzzy vision of 'Wedding Central' was now transformed and hardened by the reality inside our living room, which shouted stacked and immanent celebration ready to be unboxed and unleashed upon the world! - if not also a possible hint of potential chaos.
The Venue
In the Center Ring
The selected wedding venue was in Dallas' Old City Park. A collection of historic, 19th Century buildings in a large park setting, including a white clapboard church with a steeple and a bell. The bell actually tolls, I know, I checked by tugging the rope hanging from the narthex ceiling. I must admit, the location is difficult to get to and once generally located it is then difficult to find the gate - even with function GPS navigation. To complicate matters, for the wedding set-up, the City Parks Administration will only allow the McCords to access the park for a limited number of hours on Friday night and Saturday afternoon after the park closes to the general public.Kirby has returned to Garland with an empty horse trailer on Friday. But the trailer will need to be filled with rental tables and chairs for 120 guests at the rental depot which is way-and-the-heck across town on the northwest side of Dallas and hauled to Old City Park. Again there is a small window to get to the table and chair rental place before they close and then transport the truck and the filled trailer across town in Friday afternoon traffic to the venue before they lock the gate. Kirby gets lost - or possibly just lost his escort. Kirby does not have functioning cell phone navigation. The decorating lady team was waiting for Kirby to arrive at the venue. Kirby did not arrive for a very long time. It was close. But it kind of worked out OK - I am not sure how or the dirty details for this part of the story - but it did happen.
The event coordinator for Old City Park has yet to return any of Donna's calls. This is not helpful. Or, maybe Donna has the wrong number in her cell phone. Either way, this is not a pretty picture. Kirby, Donna, Marianne and the good Swindle family bust themselves Friday night off-loading the chairs and supplies to be stored on site and then hauled out of storage on Sunday afternoon to decorate the tables and make the everything festive.
Between big-city traffic, hauling and loading, and dealing with the event staff at the venue (sans coordinator), everyone is exhausted when they return to 'Wedding Central' and fall sound asleep in their respective beds Friday night. We do not see any of this as we are making an airport run to pick up our daughter, Inga, one of the bridesmaids.
Pretty Maids All In A Row
Dazzling Circus Show Girls
Three of the bridesmaids, including Inga of course, are childhood friends of the bride going back to the very beginning in the early 1990's. The other 3 or 4 are college friends of Brianna. Each maid/matron is to be a dressed in a coordinated display of 'peacock colors'. Inga made her choice of dress provider known and had Brianna agree to her wishes - just as long as it was 'peacock Imperial Jade Green'. Inga snagged an internet bargain for her bridesmaid dress appearance. The bridesmatron in 'peacock blue' was observed to be about 119 months pregnant and she was bemoaning the fact that she was to be the 'great blue whale' in the wedding.As we stopped off on the way home from Love Field at a ramen noodle restaurant we were joined by several members from the Family Swindle. Being close to Halloween, the waitstaff was costumed. We were served by "Sister Steven" looking every part the stereotypical Roman Catholic Nun. I asked Sister Steven if it was all right to kiss a nun? The answer is "Yes - Just don't get in the habit". Sister Steven then wrapped my knuckles with chop sticks and told me I'd have to do a severe penitence because it was such a bad joke. Consider this my confessional appearance; Forgive me Father for I have told a bad joke.
Inga spent the night sleeping on the home office floor upstairs, since all other beds were allocated to real guests back at 'Wedding Central'. The next night, it was the plan for the bridal party to spend the night together in an Air BnB near the venue itself (which is in a shady part of town) behind locked doors. Saturday evening was to be a time for all the ladies to have their hair and manicures done at the girl's body shop. As the bridal party piled into the bride's vehicle, Inga had to move a gasoline can to the back. Inga to the bride, "What is this [gas can] doing in here?" "Oh, I might need that if I ever run out of gas." [Inga thinks, "this could be an ominous foreshadowing sign - like maybe this has happened before?] "Oh, I think I'm getting low on gas", muses the bride as she starts the ignition [Inga thinks, like most of us, 'low on gas' means around 1/4 tank].
Foreshadowing turns to just plain shadowing once they drive about 4 miles. The car dies. Oops. We're out of gas. The bridal party is within walking distance to the body shop for mani/pedi detailing. Inga and Sarah push the dead car into a corner lot while the rest of the party walks in to get their nails done up. Fortunately neither Inga nor Sarah broke a nail while pushing the empty-tanked car. The husband of one of the bridal party was notified of their distress and he drove across town to replenish the dry tank for the damsels. The engine could now once again combust internally - just like Inga was now doing. This would have been an ideal time for chivalry, for the groom to ride to the rescue of his bride and her court. No expectations that the groom would be able to be of any help in the crisis, so the groom was never notified nor called. He was nowhere to be seen while everyone else was hauling and setting up. Must be 'women's work'.
Rehearsal (Prelude to the 1st Disaster)
The Circus High-Wire Act
Late morning on Saturday, the bridal party has gathered at the Air Bnb. There is lots more set-up work to be accomplished at the venue. Plans for the day before the wedding are being slapped into place back at 'Wedding Central'. I get the question from Donna, "How long does it take to get here from Houston?" I reply that it is about 4 hours drive if no major accidents are blocking the interstate. Donna calls her son in Houston around 11:30 to check on his schedule that morning. Conner is expected to sit in as DJ and MC for the wedding reception so there are expectations that he will be at the rehearsal. He also has a gig scheduled for the rehearsal dinner that evening. Said dinner is at 5 PM. Donna thinks it sounds like she woke Conner up. He has 4 1/2 hours to get to the rehearsal dinner and set up, 4 (89%) of those hours are taken up by drive time. Conner assures his mom he is on his way. It is looking like a high-wire act without a net from my vantage under the big top.Donna muses aloud that she believes Kirby's parents would love to be a part of the rehearsal dinner, but they live in Fort Worth, 45 miles from 'Wedding Central'. Jack and Jean no longer drive, but would like to attend the festive supper. I tell Donna that I am willing to go get Kirby's parents and bring them to the rehearsal. No problem at all for me, I am happy to contribute to the greater McCord family inclusion. Conner (once he gets to town) can take his grandparents back. It is a done deal. Good. Anyway - it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Everybody else at Wedding Central has to get down to the venue to continue to establish order around the place settings and arrange for the decorations on the pews and along the candle-lit promenade. It is a busy day for everyone at the Old City Park. Sue joins the Saturday afternoon throng of busy bees crafting a beautiful environment among the old buildings.
Rehearsal dinner to follow, but only Donna and Kirby will attend. Sue and Marianne and Brenda Swindle will retire to Wedding Central.
Runaway Guest! (Onslaught of Disaster 1)
The Wild Beast Act
Every one clears out of Wedding Central for another go at setting up the venue in downtown Dallas. I have a chauffeur gig with Jack and Jean McCord to pick them up in Ft. Worth and drop them off at the rehearsal dinner by 5 PM; a 90 mile round trip. I stay behind after everyone clears until my own departure time from Wedding Central comes around at about 3 PM.It is time to drive over to Ft. Worth to get Jack and Jean. It is a very pleasant Indian Summer at the end of October, perfect for a reception dinner under the stars at Old City Park tomorrow, and also a very nice day this Saturday, the day before the wedding. Marianne from Ireland declares it is a downright scorcher here in Texas. My last decision is a fateful one, I decide to place Pogo and Buffy outside in our fenced backyard, with pleasant weather they can play together on the rather spacious lawn and watch any interesting traffic travel down the alley through our steel picket fence. They have their water bowl outside, and besides Pogo is a country dog and is used to the fresh air and outdoors existence.
I return from dropping Jack and Jean off in Deep Elum, the hip and happening section of Dallas, site of the rehearsal dinner; only to be met by Angie and her son Jayden, our neighbors behind us across the alley. Angie tells me, "I just got back. Jayden and I have been all over the neighborhood for half an hour! We have seen nothing." I am confused by this report. I looked confused apparently. Angie asks, "Is Sue with you?" I say, no, I was running a long errand and Sue is doing something else for our wedding guests in downtown Dallas. I have not spoken with Sue.
"Ooooh."
Jayden blurts out the story details now, he had seen a white dog breaking out of our yard through a spot with a broken weld in the iron fence. He tried to stop her, but she ran down the side of the house and went that way! [pointing emphatically] Jayden managed to get the little brown fluffy dog back inside the fence, but the white one is gone! Angie says that she called Sue to report the runaway guest. My heart sinks.
I turn right around to begin my neighborhood search for an hour and a half. I even cross over Highway 78 hoping to not find a spot of flattened white fur on the side. No luck anywhere. Pogo is either really gone, and gone far on her own paws on her way 103 miles back to her home in East Texas, or she has been scooped up by a neighbor. I am sick. I am amazed that of the 236 iron pickets, Pogo is able to locate the single loose one, and one that happens, most unfortunately, to also be at the unrepaired split-seam of hog wire at the base of the picket fence that acts as a secondary line of security (in case a picket becomes loose). This one loose picket also happens to be rather inaccessible behind a woody shrub. The perfect alignment for doggy disaster - and she happened to put it all together and make her escape. There is disaster when the circus lion-tamer looses control during the Wild Beast Act featured under the big top. The trick Circus Dogs turn out to be trickier than I had expected. What a Show!
Sue turns to social media and a neighborhood-specific app to report a lost white dog, answers to the name of Pogo.
Donna and Kirby return from the rehearsal dinner. Hi! How are things at Wedding Central? I say, "Terrible. I lost your dog. I am sorry."
Pogo has a collar and a tag on, which has her name and a phone number for the McCords. BUT -- the phone number is their home phone in East Texas. Donna does not know her access code to check her messages at home remotely. Donna calls a friend to drive over to her house and go inside and listen to any messages on the phone. The McCord's home phone is a land line and has no caller ID with it. Too bad. The friend does as instructed, then drives back to within cell phone range to report good news - sort of. There is a message. It say. "Hi. We found your dog." No name, no address nor call back number. Just "We found your dog." At least we know Pogo is not squished on some dark Garland road. Sue does additional posting on social media and we hope for some return news of the escaped beast from Wedding Central. We go to bed that night with Buffy inside while Pogo's bed is empty.
Outside Wedding Central's Big Top
The Side Show
As if the circus atmosphere was not entertaining enough - Donna was, by bad timing, placed in an awkward family crisis. Her elderly father had fallen and was suffering from a broken hip. Donna's oldest sister had rushed down to far SE Texas to 'care' for her stricken, 94 year-old father. Sister soon became very secretive and refused to listen to any family decisions. She alone would decide what was best, and she told the doctors that she would not allow he elderly father to be given pain medication for his fractured pelvis because she did not want him to become addicted to drugs. She late removed him to another facility and refused to divulge his location the other family members. Certifiable loopy - you can not make this stuff up. Donna confides, "This is bad, really bad, but I can not handle a wedding in Dallas and deal with my family of crazies and their crisis at the same time. I feel bad. But I just can't."Marianne in the mean time is subtlety and very politely seeking a run to the chemist shoppe for something to help her chronic itchy ankles. We look at her ankles and suggest the increasingly reddening skin is a bad case of chiggers. Not being from around here, she is completely mystified by the diagnosis of chiggers, otherwise known as 'no-see-ums'. A microscopic mite that burrows under your epidermis and lays tiny larvae under your skin which causes rash and itching; especially after all the October rain we had. Must have gotten them at the McCords in East Texas when walking through tall grass we tell her. Yet, we all agree, we've never seen such a severe case of chiggers. Must be something about red-headed, fair Irish skin.
Marianne's chigger case grows more severe and she now wants something to discretely cover up her glowing itchy red ankles and shins. I change Marianne's diagnosis and working hypothesis from chiggers to good ol' Texas poison ivy. The red patch has now become blistered and oozing and very uncomfortable. We administer some super drugs (which makes her sleep very well) and get something to cover her irritated skin.
Marianne has not always fared well in her visits to Texas. On a previous visit she was hit in the face by a door - unintentionally, since Marianne is so very kind, gentle and sweet-natured. But she broke her nose and got two gruesome black eyes on her last visit here.
The Cake (It was a beautiful cake)
Show Time!
Donna is a wonder in the kitchen. Donna can bake a beautiful cake or any other confection of sweet desire. Donna's gift to her daughter was to bake her wedding cake. Donna worked for a month on separate tiers of strawberry filled layers of cake as well as a chocolate groom's cake. Donna spend many hours making the fondant and decorating the beautiful wedding cake in great detail. Donna did all of this wonderful hand work in her home kitchen in East Texas. Alas, this turned out to be like the man who spends years building a sailboat in his basement, only to finish the boat and then realize it is very difficult to get a fully constructed boat out of an underground basement and launched into the sea. Likewise, Donna had a couple of beautiful cakes, but she was coming to town on Friday and the wedding reception was to be Sunday evening. How does one get a tiered and delicately decorated cake that has been constructed with frozen fruit-filled layers 103 miles down the highway and then keep it in pristine condition through travel and stored in room-temperature conditions and then to the wedding venue to be served?The Wedding cakes arrive at Wedding Central on Friday afternoon. They were elaborately wired down and transported in kitchen cabinet drawers removed from Donna's kitchen and packed with blue ice containers to keep the fruit-filled layers from becoming too soft. Our freezer/fridge is nowhere spacious enough to hold a couple of wedding cakes meant to feed 120. Sue was asked if she had access to a large freezer. She thought, well, no. But then checked with a neighbor who had just remodel her kitchen and in the process emptied the large freezer in her garage. Yes! It was available for wedding cake storage.
For some reason that now escapes me, plans at Wedding Central changed, and Donna opted to not use the neighbor's freezer and just rest the cakes on our kitchen counter tops until they were needed on Sunday.
Sue was up and dressed for work at church on Sunday, while we all stayed behind and comfortably moved into the Big Day of Brianna and Peter's Wedding. The McCords were planning to be doing the final set up at Old City Park early Sunday afternoon. Sue and I would follow later once she was done with her duties at church. That was the plan...
CPR (Cake Production & Resuscitation) - Disaster #2
It was a bright and clear Sunday morning on October 28, 2018 - not unlike pearl Harbor on Sunday, December 7, 1941. Donna casually snipped the restraining wires holding the cardboard boxes covering the wedding cakes at 9:35 AM. From the kitchen I hear a moan of deep anguish, "Oh!! No!!! Epic disaster!!!!"
This is not a drill!
The cakes had thawed. The fruit filling had experienced differential compaction from the overlying cake layers and this had caused the cakes to shift, collapse and in the process the fondant had begun to spall off of the each finely crafted tier sitting at unfortunately inclined angles. Yes, tiers and tears were about to fall.
A call for emergency reinforcements went out to Brenda - a fancy cake decorator of some experience herself. Brenda sped to the rescue and came to a screeching halt in front of our house with her cake triage equipment. Donna and Marianne were maniacs tearing through the kitchen try to rebuild a months work in 5 hours. It was a valiant effort.
Our fridge was cleared to become an emergency cake ICU (Intensive Cooling Unit) to try and chill down the fruit layers and restore some stability. Donna rushed to our thermostat and dropped the household temperature setting to 66 degrees. I made 3 runs to Walmart and 1 run to Micheal's to fetch supplies for the triage; mini-mash mallows (44 oz), confectioner's sugar (2 lbs), 2 bags of chocolate chips, brown food coloring (I did not know you could get brown food coloring at Michael's) and a Dr. Pepper for the crew furiously mixing and spreading and bustling on every square inch of counter top and kitchen table. It was a mad, mad scene.
I was supposed to pick up my wife from church at 2 and we would drive to the wedding together where we would meet the rest of the party which planned to have already been in place setting up. I am scrambling up and down Walmart aisles with my list, when Sue calls at 2:10 to ask if I am going to pick her up? I answer curtly, "No! We have a cake disaster! I'll call you later. Stand by for further orders."
When I get home from my latest emergency shopping dispatch, I asked the harried ladies in the kitchen, "Where do you want Sue? Here at home to help with cake or down at the wedding venue?" Tell her to get her sweet cheeks to Old City Park - she will have to save us from there. Run like the wind!
Return of Lost
A Pleasant Surprise Re-Joins the Circus
In the middle of all the collapsed cake commotion it sounds like someone knocking at my front door. It is. It is Lauren from the house behind us, husband of Angie and father of Jayden. He holds up his phone with a photo on the screen and asks, "Is this your missing white dog?" Yes! It's Pogo. Where is she?
Don't know. Somebody posted this in response to Sue's lost dog listing on social media - but they did not leave any contact information. Go figure. "Lauren", I say, "Damn it. Reply and give them my cell number and ask them to call me. Thanks."
A short time later I get a call. Some people about 3 blocks away have her in their backyard. This time I get an address. Kirby and I leave the kitchen chaos behind to fetch Pogo and restore some needed order to the day. The story is that the man was getting into his Ford pickup in his driveway when a friendly white dog came bounding up and jumped into his lap. He took her into the family. Coincidentally (or not) Kirby drives a similar Ford pickup. Their story was that they thought they'd like to keep Pogo, and since nobody returned their earlier phone call they thought she might stay with them. We explained that Pogo is visiting in town for a wedding and her listed phone number is 103 miles away and nobody is home there - on account of the wedding [circus] that has come to town. They explained why they left no name or number to call them back - they assumed every phone showed who called and from what number so figured no need to say the obvious. There is a lesson here for someone to expound upon - but we are in the middle of a hot mess wedding disaster, gotta go. Pogo returns and there was much rejoicing.
Then is back to reconstructing the fondant.
Go Time - Show Time
As the appointed hour for the wedding approached I began to dress in tie and jacket for the occasion while receiving final orders for my small part in the rescue mission. Matron of Honor, Meredith, is married to Travis; Travis is a chef. Travis as a wedding guest has been advised through Meredith of the disintegrating dessert disaster. Travis is recruited for his professional skills and calmly assures the flummoxed females that he will come to their rescue. My orders are to take the chocolate Groom's Cake in my SUV (drive carefully!) and link up with Colonel Travis and deliver the groom's cake for restoration. The wedding cake will follow later. Run like the wind! - but don't let the cake slide.
I back in gracefully to a close-in parking space and begin seeking Chef Travis. I find him dipping large strawberries in molten chocolate. I am carrying a bit of agitation in my voice and manner, a residue from bathing in the morning's sea-of-panic. Travis looks at me coolly. Travis calmly listens to my brief recitation of the situation and then he follows me to the cake in the back of my SUV. We lift up the kitchen drawer receptacle holding the groom's cake and carry the patient on its pallet to the 19th Century storefront which will be the reception hall for the wedding. The box cover is removed and we lift the cake out of the drawer toward the display table, only to have a large piece of fondant fall to the floor. Travis takes a moment to size up the circumstances, then reaches into his kit and pulls out a pair of latex gloves and proceeds to glove up. Wow. I am impressed, Chef Travis is a consummate professional and he methodically and quickly begins to salvage the situation. The cake is no where near the condition in which it was meant to be displayed, but with a border of strategically placed strawberries, an ample amount of toole and flowers draped around the pedestal it was presentable, a medal of honor worthy effort under the command of Chef 'Colonel' Travis.
I catch glimpses of Sue, flashing and flitting about the venue, coordinating with the staff and working to implement Donna and Brianna's vision for the tables, decorations and reception set up design. Sue is covered in flower, dust, kerosene (from spilled table center piece lamps) and some sweat as she works single-handedly to execute the plan in the absence of any members of the original planning team.
All of the bride's maids are now aware of the cake crash and the subsequent major dislocation in the timing of the wedding events. The bride is enjoying her day and all of the preparations and attention, but she sort of wonders why her mother is not there for the photographer as was arranged a long time ago. The bride's maids keep the details of the day's disaster away from the bride and stoke her bliss all the while assuring her that her mother will soon be there, "just a little something else to attend to at the moment - do not worry, be happy".
Back at Wedding Central, Marianne watches the clock and then when no more can be done and time has run out, she forces Donna upstairs to transform herself into the Mother of the Bride. Donna reluctantly leaves the battlefield and retires from the kitchen to dress. Marianne and Brenda load the reconstituted wedding cake into the car and they drive quickly to get to the wedding itself. When they park, they can see that the tiered cake did not survive the trip from Wedding Central to the Wedding Venue. Tiers and tears will fall.
The Wedding of
Brianna and Peter
Everything was now in place. Inga was gliding around waiting for a few photos of the wedding party and crossed paths with her mother as she was putting the final touches on the table decorations. Inga gently suggests, "Looks like your efforts her are about done Mom, why don't I show you where you can change out of your clothes and get dressed in your wedding clothes."
Her mother replies, "Oh no, I don't think I'll have the time to change, I'll just go to the service as I am."
Inga, "Everybody is running a bit behind as it is; come on over to this building, you will have enough time to get dressed. Put that stuff down, your are really finished here and follow me."
Inga is persuasive. Inga is always right (at least in her view) - and often is.
When Sue unpacked her intentional togs for the wedding, and disrobed from what she wore when she left the church on her emergency wedding venue preparation mission, she noticed with amusement and some horror that she was wearing a mess with dust, flower, and kerosene and sporting an image which she had not noticed - but Inga certainly had. She was was now appreciative of her daughter's subtle, yet firm insistence upon a change of clothing.
Events are behind schedule, but this is not the first wedding where the schedule is off. The photographer has been discreetly informed of the reason for the late appearance of the bride's family, and she is accommodating.
When Donna does arrive, she see's her daughter in her full bridal dress and burst into tears. This is not the first wedding where the mother of the bride becomes tearful. But, unlike most such displays, this time there is a confession and an understandable outpouring of emotion after a month's worth of work on the cakes; "Oh! I've ruined your cake!" Donna sobs as she is encouraged to get in position for photographs.
Brianna the bride, to her everlasting credit and healthy perspective, chuckles; "Oh Mama, it's just a cake. Come on, get in here and smile, the cake is not important. Everything is just fine."
And wouldn't you know it. Everything was just fine. The guest had a lovely meal under the stars on a cobblestone street between vintage buildings with the pleasant atmosphere of an old rural southern village. The tables and decorations were exquisitely executed and received high marks from the professional event staff at Old City Park for their beauty and elegance.
We had an enjoyable evening as we socialized with guests and friends. In a final moment of insight and discretion, the collapsed cake was not displayed, nor served from a receiving line, but rather, it was brought to each guest at their table and no one was the wiser as to the condition and commotion and energy and long story that accompanied their piece of wedding cake. And, I will say truthfully, it was a most delicious piece of cake - one of the best cakes I've ever had the privilege to take part in and of.
It was a Happy Occasion. It was lined with silver.
The Circus Packs Up and Leaves Town
We of course feel the anguish of Donna after all of that work on the cakes and the emotional investment did not pan out as planned, but at the end I was grateful to be a part of the McCord's wedding big top event and to be counted as a friend among with all the rich years and all of the rich stories that we share. I enjoyed it and I am pleased to have been a participant at Wedding Central.
After the circus leaves town, we are left to clean up a lot of sawdust and manure, but it was a great show and it was great to be a part of it all!
Blessing to Brianna and Peter.
