Blessing #2

 

For those who don't know, but might have seen it, Jews often express condolences with the phrase, "May their memory be a blessing." I suppose there's meaning in that. I look back at my mom and dad, often dream about them, and take solace that I still have those memories to treasure.

Not sure how it will work with the passing of my wife. 

Every time I see a picture it results in a half a box of used Kleenex and wet wash towel over my shoulder. I've cried so much in the past two months, that I started getting cramps in my diaphragm. And an ache in my lower right jaw, from really hard, screaming into a pillow cases. Widowhood is not for the faint of heart.

In any case, I've decided to put those memories of my beautiful Debbie into writing, so that they will be a blessing for my daughters, should they ever mate and have children. 

Today, we look back at a wedding. Not ours, because that's a little too close to the heart and raw right now. Suffice it to say, our wedding was the Best Day in my life and the best day at Riviera Golf Course for anyone who has not ever swung a golf club. And it should be noted I had a full head of hair.

The wedding I write about today took place a few months before ours, I believe in the Summer of '91. 

It was an incredibly warm night, scented by the huge eucalyptus trees that surround the Cheviot Hills County Club, just 2.7 miles from our house. A childhood friend of Deb's, Laura was marrying Bruce. I had only met the couple a few times but genuinely liked them. Laura had a larger-than-life personality and an infectious laugh. Sadly, breast cancer took her way too soon. Way too soon. My condolences to Bruce.

It was a night wedding. 

And as usual Deb was not going to miss a minute of the action. When it came to festivities, parties, get togethers, Deb had MFOMO, Minnesota Fear Of Missing Out. It explained why we always showed up early and often left late. I was always the fan of the Irish ghosting goodbye, but my wife and her 10,000 Lakes DNA would have none of that.

Our 7PM arrival was met by an immediate announcement that the rabbi was finishing up a personal service and would be running a little late.

Not a problem, since there were ample tall glasses of champagne, real champagne, and unpronouncable finger food that was waved in my face by bored waiters and waitresses.

At 7:30, another announcement, the rabbi would be further delayed. And by this time much of the wedding small talk and intros to other guests, many of whom were strangers, was running a little thin.

At 8PM, another announcement. "Due to the rabbi's tardiness, the Country Club would be opening up the many well situated open bars." 

By 8:30 I had forgotten there was a wedding scheduled to happen and had allowed myself to be over- served, along with other childhood friends of Laura and Bruce, including my buddies Colin and Mike.

At 10 o'clock somebody spotted the rabbi in the parking lot, wearing his white Tallis, carrying a book and his beautiful Tallis bag. We all had to make a mad dash to the service stage. It was a little crazier for me because I, persuaded by my friend Jack Daniels, had decided to strip down to my undies and take a swim in the country club pool. Thankfully I was in post-triathlon shape at the time.

I quickly toweled off, jumped back into my monkey suit and found my seat next to Debbie.

"You're all wet,"  she said.

And before I could explain why, Mike or Colin, seated behind us, blurted, "Rich went for a nighttime dip in the pool." 

Deb was astounded. But didn't get mad, she rarely got mad. She rolled her eyes. And then started laughing. 

In fact, when the reception got going at about 10:45, Deb spared no one looking for a good laugh and told and told and retold, everyone how her boyfriend had gone for a swim while we waited for the rabbi.

Pretty sure, at that point, I decided I no longer wanted to be her boyfriend, but her fiancé.