Sunday, October 7, 2007

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Today was the wedding day for Manolis' and Vassilea’s son, Ioannis (John).

We took a cab to the church. Beautiful, huge church. A bishop presided, with four priests in attendance. Manolis read the Epistle. The groom’s sister, Maria, conducted the all-women choir. She is a world class conductor, literally, having conducted orchestras and choirs all over the world. I think she studied at Julliard. The music was gorgeous, rivaling even Russian church music, which in my opinion is saying a lot.

We remembered, albeit at the last minute to bring our gift! I put the card in the shopping bag with the gift, along with a pen and a roll of tape. That’s because we didn’t know the name of the bride. We’d find out during the ceremony, I said, and then afterward we would write it on the card.

Aspasia Maria, it turned out to be. She has olive skin, dark brows, green eyes, pretty face, and hair almost to her waist, platinum blonde. She had no bridesmaids, but three little flower girls clutched her veil and train throughout the ceremony. Her dress was unusual, in that it consisted of horizontal pleats, except that the train had vertical ones. Imagine having a figure that would permit you to wear horizontal pleats! She had. They even accentuated her assets. The dress was sleeveless, with rhinestone straps, very sparkly.

She is not the same woman John was scheduled to marry in September of 2006. We do not know what happened to that romance. Mena says she thinks the bride-elect fell in love with someone else.

The groom looks just like a younger version of his father. Very dapper, very suave, very Greek looking, very handsome.

After the ceremony, various Old Friends accosted us. After chatting with some of them for a while, I turned to Demetrios and asked, “Where is our gift?”

“Manolis’ sister came by and said, “Give it to me and I’ll put it where it needs to be.’ So I gave it to her.”

That will be interesting, won’t it, when the happy couple looks in the bag and finds a pen, a blank card, a roll of tape, and a crystal vase? And no indication who the donors were.

You have to be philosophical about things that can no longer be helped.

Manolis’ brother was there, who looks so much like him I would have trouble telling them apart if I hadn’t known Manolis a long time first. Funny thing is, although they are not twins, they do have identical twin brothers! They were there, too, and Stephanos. Stephanos is Manolis’ and Vassilea’s special angel. Something went wrong at his birth; I don’t know what. Once I was told he was spastic. I don’t see it. All I know is, he has normal intelligence, but his posture is abnormal, he drools, and he cannot speak. He is also the happiest human being I have ever met. Always. It is always a special joy to be with Stephanos. He always does things like point out the stars or call your attention to the flowers. Tonight Stephanos made signs to me to say he thought I was very beautiful. Now that's typical of the lad!

Mena and Costas drove us to the reception at the Kiwi Club. The festivities were in an outdoor pavilion that you get to via a vine-covered walkway. On this occasion, the vines were festooned with (non-working) crystal chandeliers, and there were hundreds of tea light candles lit all along the walkway. It looked like a fairyland.

We sat at a table with some more Old Friends. More specifically, they were “Costas’ boys.” Costas and Demetrios and Leonidas all used to be leaders of the youth group at the Church of the Ascension. When they were university students, they taught high school students. Well, at our table were two of the boys Costas had taught, but of course they remembered Demetrios, too. And they all had a lot to talk about, reminiscing. About the only contribution I made to the conversation was to tell Alexandros about one of my favorite cartoons. It shows a Greek warrior sitting at his kitchen table. His shrewish wife is standing over him. “And while we’re at it,” she says, “Another thing. I’m getting tired of people calling you ‘Alexander the Pretty Good!’”

I know, pretty feeble as conversation. Which left us wives to hold our own conversation, on topics more agreeable to us.

Stephanos came by our table and tried to tell us something we didn’t understand. He pointed to Mena’s watch, to the number twelve. Midnight? Yes, he nodded, eagerly. Then he put out four fingers. Four? No. Forty? Yes! But we couldn’t figure out the connection. He went to try to convey his message, with its obvious joy, to someone else at another table.

The feast was enormous, with about six of everything, meaning six kinds of salads, six entrees, six side dishes, many kinds of dessert.

When they newlyweds finally arrived, the cake was cut (everybody by then having long since finished his meal) and the dancing began, with the traditional Greek song: “Beautiful is our bride, beautiful is her dowry, beautiful is the company.” I guarantee you’ve heard it if you’ve ever been to any Greek wedding. First, the couple danced, then the parents joined, then the relatives, then the rest. Maria and I joined the circle. Mena’s leg is swollen and painful so she couldn’t dance. (Yes, she is going to the doctor tomorrow. We have tried to impress upon her the importance of ruling out a clot.)

Demetrios was too busy talking and laughing to dance. Anyway, his back and knee hurt because of his sciatica. Finally, however, just before midnight, there was a slow dance he could manage, so he asked me to dance and I was delighted. All evening long we had been waiting for this.

We had taken about four steps when someone cut in: Stephanos! I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So I danced my heart out with Stephanos, both of us beaming all the while, the videographer eagerly capturing our every move. Every time he turned to Demetrios, Stephanos waved at him vigorously, with laughter and smiles, and Demetrios smiled back. There are a lot of things Stephanos can't do, but dancing isn't among them.

It was while we were still dancing that Sunday turned into Monday and the music abruptly changed and suddenly everybody was singing, “Happy Birthday.” In English, to the tune you know. The guests all gathered ‘round and there was a huge applause. Four fingers, midnight; the old brain whirled. Duh! Stephanos had just turned forty! He got his first birthday kiss from me. And probably a hundred or so more from the other guests.

Only then was the cake served, serving two purposes together. Nice touch.

We exchanged a few words with Ioannis the theologian, but the place was too loud to say anything very substantial, so after a while we all went home.

I couldn’t help, before falling in bed, thinking it was a bit odd to have been to a wedding this day. Had I stayed married to my first husband, it would have been our 40th anniversary today. Staying with him was impossible, out of the question, but still... I’m glad he and I are able, these days, to “take a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.”

Demetrios and I agreed, as we always do, that our own wedding was the best one we’ve ever been to! But this one was also smashing.