The Wedding and other highlights, or, what I did on my vacation.

The wedding of Kim Hird and Ryan Spencer opened with the traditional procession of young men. They entered from the back of the sanctuary and walked along the side of the church. They slid in and out of sight behind the sanctuaries columns like waves swelling to the strings of Pachelbel. The men appeared and disappeared behind those columns affecting a surreal ambivalence to this ritual. The quartet played with traditional aplomb and the ladies arrived looking beautiful in dusky violet gowns. Kim was drop dead gorgeous, smiling down the isle with my proud brother Pete. Kimmy stepped up to the crest of the wave and said, “I do.” The wedding itself was short and sweet. This is the way I like them. I think it is the party afterwards that really seals the deal.
The reception was held at the country club. I grew up in this club and told Jecholia and Sage (again) about walking into the dining room with my mother and father. There was a grand piano and the pianist always stopped what she was doing and played Adalvise from "The Sound of Music" because that was my fathers’ song. Bernie the matradee would sit us down and then bring me a pettite bowl of black olives. I loved black olives. I never had to ask for them. Bernie made them appear. I would eat my olives and go play in the ladies room. The ladies room was plush with a mirror that filled the entire wall. There was a vanity that had combs and brushes and lotion and tissues. Soft padded cushions sat in front of the mirror and if I sat up on my knees, I could see myself in the mirror and primp. When I was finished playing, dinner was sitting at my place at the table. I was a princess surrounded by people who anticipated my needs. That was pretty cool. I know, it is not PC, but it was pretty cool.
Anyway, Bernie was at the reception and I introduced him to Jecholia and Sage. He is a part of family history. Bernie was also a big Browns fan and always knew all the details about the team. I think he organized bus trips to the games. We all loved Bernie.
Parties ensued all weekend and as the designated airport shuttle, I did a bit of driving. The airport is only 15 minutes away from the hotel. Speaking of the hotel, I would not recommend the Holliday Inn Westlake to anyone. The people in the room next to us placed a tray of dishes outside our adjoining doors and it stayed there for 2 days. Yuck. On Friday night, we were swimming in the pool with about ten other people. There were several people relaxing in the lounge chairs in the pool area. An employee came by turned off the hot tub jets and said the pool was closing. He immediately rushed around the pool and picked up all of our towels before we could get to them. Several of us brought towels from our rooms because they were bigger than the poolside towels. The man was just plain grumpy. Maybe he was a Yankee? Have I been in the south so long that I forgot how people in other parts of country behave? No, I think he was grumpy.
Lastly, we went to Cedar Point, “Your American Rockin’ Roller Coast! Roll on!” The newer roller coasters were fabulous. They were a smooth thrilling ride. The older ones jostled us around quite a bit and I vowed not to go on them any more. They have stopped being fun for this old gal. The park was a chaos of noise. The cacophony was so persistent and intrusive; it was almost hard to see. Shapes and blobs of color screamed and by the end of the day, I was exhausted, not form walking about 5 miles or being thrilled by rides. I was exhausted by sound that intruded on my cognitive privacy. I think this must be something like the ongoing irritation that my clients in the psych ward experienced. Their illness causes them to lack gating capacity. Gating is a normal brain function that helps us all tune out most of what goes on in our world and to focus on the things we decide are important.
Finally we stayed at a run down motel in Cleveland that could have been the set for the old movie “The Shining” It was a confusing maze of dingy carpets with the occasional set of wires hanging from the ceiling. It was sad, drab and spooky. I didn’t want to take my shoes off. The beds were surprisingly comfortable.
The ride home was uneventful and I am very glad to be here.