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TURNING A LEMON
INTO LEMONADE
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In a testament to love, perseverance and a
no-global-pandemic-is-going-to-mess-up-my-life-spirit, my youngest son
married the woman of his dreams last Saturday.
Like a zillion other people around the world who made plans for
this spring, the actual event didn't come off the way it was originally
intended. Adjustments were made, primarily in the minds of all the
participants, most notably the bride and groom.
Gone was the bachelor party in Austin, Texas, the bachelorette
party in Charleston, the wedding shower, the 180 guests, the farmhouse
venue. In its place---Zoom.
"How was the bachelor party?" I remember asking my
son back in May when I heard he and his friends got together from their
respective homes on Zoom, the internet meeting place which has reluctantly
become the norm. I expected a ho-hum answer.
"It was an absolute blast," he replied. "It
lasted over three hours and everyone was hammered. I never knew you could
play so many drinking games on Zoom."
I can only imagine, and I decided I didn't really want to.
Instead, I told him I was glad it went well. And I secretly admired him for
not whining about missing the paintball games and boat rental that had been
planned for their weekend in Austin. I'm not sure I could have done the
same.
The same lack of whining was exhibited by his bride, who had
meticulously planned every detail of her wedding, only to see it vanish in a
mysterious cloud of Covid-19. Instead, she adapted and moved forward.
There were 14 people at this monumental occasion on Saturday,
almost all family, not 180. And instead of the idyllic setting of a
farmhouse in West Marin, it was in our backyard. Her parents and sister, who
live on the East Coast, Zoomed in.
No need to have anyone walk her down the aisle, because there
wasn't one. No need to toss the bouquet, because everyone there was already
married. No need for a caterer, because her soon-to-be brother-in-law could
handle all the barbecuing.
No need to complain, because there was nothing they could do
about it. A global pandemic will do that to you.
Instead, they savored every moment, and so did their guests.
The bride was beautiful in her flowing white dress, the groom was starstruck,
and the ceremony went off without a hitch. The only negative was the
minister, who couldn't understand why the guests didn't laugh uproariously
at the hilarious jokes he had written into his monologue.
That minister happened to be me.
They chuckled lightly, though, and the vows, the exchanging of
rings, and the commemoration of husband and wife were delightful. That was
followed by a lengthy cocktail hour, a wonderful outdoor dinner with toasts
that were far funnier than anything the minister had to say, and dancing
until 1:00 in the morning.
The bride and groom were thrilled. Like every graduating
senior, like every person whose trip was cancelled, like every person whose
event was disrupted, they made the best of it. Their friends and family
adjusted, and so did they. It's an old cliche, but a good one. They turned a
lemon into lemonade.
It's all about attitude. There's a lot of misery out there
right now, and when there's a chance for laughter and happiness, you need to
embrace it with all your might. That's what my son and new daughter-in-law
did so beautifully.
"I didn't see this coming," said my son as they
prepared to leave for their honeymoon the next morning. "It was a
perfect wedding."
Yes, it was. Different, but perfect.
And to make it even better, they will still have the big
celebration in June of 2021, assuming the pandemic is in the rear view
mirror. The farmhouse is reserved, the 180 guests have been notified, and
the parents have been told they're not off the hook for the bill.
Just another reason the bride and groom were so happy.
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