Brideful

Ten months ago today - last June 13th - the day ended much differently than it began. Most poignantly - for my family, anyway - my older sister Julie started the day a "Miss" and ended the day a "Mrs." Most obviously - for anyone in Birmingham, AL, that is - the morning sky loomed heavy with clouds but the evening stars shown bright and clear. Most personally - for me, of course - I started the day believing I was an "anything is possible" type of person but ended the day shaking my head at my lack of faith.

Though the sky we woke to on Julie's wedding morning was anything but clear, it shouted a message that definitely was: "There will be NO outdoor wedding today. Period!" Gray clouds churned and swirled and thickened so sickeningly in the sky, it perfectly mirrored the nervous anxiousness brewing in my stomach. I stood on my parents' front porch in the quiet of the morning, tilted my head back and turned slowly in a circle to survey the situation. Bleak. No, not even bleak. Bad. Impossible. There was not a single break in the clouds, no light through any tunnel, no way the sky could clear by this evening, if ever. I could see no silver lining to these steel gray clouds.

I looked at my mother, our makeup-less faces pale with dread. "Has Julie seen the clouds?" I whispered with wide eyes. She gulped and nodded a yes. "Oh no," I thought. "OH NO."

Julie was the classically organized bride, planning details of the details so every part of her wedding day would be flawless. And now this, this doomsday of the ugliest sky I have ever seen.

At the hairdresser, the rain poured from the sky, puddled on the sidewalk, and swooshed against the windows. As our hair was pinned up and poufed up, the rain came down, down, down.

I tried to soften the blow, to make lemonade out of lemons: "the wedding will be pretty inside" and "it would be too hot in the June sun anyway." Instead of believing the dream would happen, I looked for Plan B. Julie never doubted, never waivered, never lost faith in her belief that a sunny outdoor wedding would happen. I thought she had lost her mind. She possessed a brideful hope that frankly just made her seem possessed (me, her doting maid of honor, standing behind her swirling a 'crazy' finger at my temple every time she refused the wedding should move inside.)

My finger was soon pointed at me, tsk-tsking the doubt I had been so sure of. As the last noses were powdered and lips blotted before the photographs began, I pulled back the curtains of the bride's room to reveal a sky whose curtain of clouds had dissolved. I laughed with stunned, bewildered eyes: it was a miracle! A miracle I had prayed for but never actually believed would come true.

Oh me of little faith! What wonderful possibilities have I written off because they seemed impossible? Have I ever been so passionately hopeful that everyone thought I was crazy? Do I really believe anything is possible?

When I remember Julie's wedding day, I will always think of how pretty she looked and the lesson I learned: no situation is ever as bleak as it seems, no dream is too unrealistic to hold, no sky is gray forever.

Top, the morning sky on June 13, 2009; bottom, the sky just six hours later.

Tools and Gadgets

For the second time in the month of April, I went home to Alabama for a celebration in Julie and Gabe's honor: this time the occasion was a "Tool and Gadget Shower" to outfit the couple with all the knick-knacks and doo-dads surely essential to a happily functioning home. I admit my bewilderment at the assortment of gifts - if it doesn't fit in my compact tool box, I believe it to be only marginally neccessary for the occasional emergency...and rather useless for everyday life.  The mindset of New Yorkers: when something breaks, you call someone to fix it.

Gifts of drills and sweepers and thingamajigs emerged from beautifully wrapped packages to oohs and aahs from the guests. Julie and Gabe were quite pleased with the gadgets they received, but the only tool I wished to gain in my toolbox (my heart's toolbox) was the one that created the beautiful sunset that wrapped our party into the night sky. 

I don't think I will find "Sunset Maker" on the registry at Home Depot!

Gabe and Julie 

Daddy and Mama enjoying laughs and the evening sun.

Another valuable gadget for my "toolbox" - a "Sister Trio"

Your turn for tea

When I was a young girl, my mother's photo albums captivated my attention for what seemed like hours at a time. Being careful to keep the clear covers attached to the adhesive pages, I flipped through the images of her memories and created a storybook of my own descriptions. Splashing in a bikini in the ocean, sitting on her dorm room bed, playing basketball in uniform, laughing with a boy's arm around her shoulders - it all seemed like a grand time.

I was most intrigued by the page of wedding paraphernalia - a portrait of her in her wedding dress (I always looked at her slippered feet sticking out from the bottom of the large skirt), the wedding announcement clipped from the newspaper (I always loved seeing Mama and Daddy's names in print), and the picture from her tea (I always preferred the grainy black and white version from the paper over the in-color original). There stood my Mama beside the punch bowl and flower-festooned table with both of my grandma's, my aunt Sheree and another lady or two who looked familiar enough that I knew they must have been of some importance to be chosen for this picture.

This image of the tea became iconic to me - the bride next to the table with the most important people beside her. I daydreamed of the newspaperman wearing his newspaper cap coming to the party with his big flash-bulb camera, everyone gathering around the table, 1-2-3 snap! and the moment recorded for posterity.

And now it's Julie turn for her tea, and Mama again is gathered to her spot behind the table - this time her girls the ones to join for the special picture. Our smiles captured by the camera flash for a picture that I wonder whose wistful eyes will one day gaze upon.

Take Two

On a sweltering hot day in the summer of 2006, I accompanied Elizabeth and Chris to the Botanical Gardens to "assist" them as they were photographed for their engagement pictures. I lugged around a large bag filled with brushes, combs, hairspray, makeup, gloss, sunglasses - you name it - and scurried after them blotting sweat and taming humidity-induced frizzy hair.

The result: a happy couple looking so beautiful I was highly recommended for a second gig as engagement picture assistant.

My "take two" as handler for Julie and Gabe landed me in the same role at the same location but with a new starring couple. The scene was a little different this time around with an overcast sky and chilly temperatures, not to mention a few new props slipped into my bag - towels and a hand broom - that I *lovingly* used to prepare the backdrops for each shot.

But the story was still the same: me running after my pretty sister and making a big production of wilting under the weight of carrying her bag, reminding her to hold her shoulders back, smile like this, smooth her skirt - all while thinking I have the best role in the world. This attention hog will work behind the scenes for her sisters any day.


Prepping Julie in the parking lot pre-pictures.


Our star being scolded for hopping up on the railing not yet brushed off and toweled dry.


The co-stars recounting Gabe's proposal at the exact spot it happened.

A Christmas Miracle

Except for the lit and decorated tree in my bedroom, and the wreaths, bows and candles festooned on the front of the house, there was nary a Christmas decoration in sight when I arrived home for the holiday. Mama claimed Daddy didn't finish painting the walls of the den in time for her to decorate, and Daddy claimed he had to pick someone up from Atlanta unexpectedly and was unable to finish any sooner. I feigned shock at the un-Christmasy state of the house, but really, it was three days before Christmas, and the time and effort to decorate just seemed unnecessary. Plus, considering it usually takes Mama three weeks to get the house looking just the way she wants, even a reindeer would figure that to accomplish the same in three days was impossible.

If I didn't know better, I would claim Mama hired a team of three foot tall helpers from the North Pole and put them to work, but - from years of watching her experience - I know she was the one hocking the boxes from the attic, decorating every nook and cranny and even hauling the Christmas tree up from the basement all by herself.* By Christmas Eve, icicles hung from the chandeliers, reindeers perched on the mantle and red birds nested anywhere Mama could make a place for them. Our house resembled a snow globe - turned upside down and shaken, but now radiating Christmas charm.

A house fully decorated in just three days. Yes, we witnessed our very own Christmas miracle indeed!

*Mama did most of this decorating in the early hours before anyone else was awake, thus doing most of it herself. We would not have let her carry the tree from the basement by herself had we been awake!

A Sweet Time

The preparations for Julie's wedding continue to fall into place, no doubt falling so easily because she is so well-organized with folders and clippings and notes and books - she is a marvel of planning and ideas.

Living up to my maid of honor duties, I went along on several wedding tasks while home for Thanksgiving - dress shopping, invitation selecting, jewelrey searching. Even with a tired mind or hungry body, I willed myself to forge on with Julie and not complain; it's not every day I get to spend such memorable time with my sister.

But our "sweetest" time together? Selecting the wedding cake...trust me, it's going to be beautiful, original, and really really yummy!

Approximately 15 seconds after our meeting with the cake designer was over: in the car and devouring the sample!

Memory Lane

An unsuccessful trip to a wedding dress shop near Muscle Shoals prompted a drive through our old neighborhood. An area my family so loved for the five years we lived there in the mid-1980s, the memories of the house and friends there are plentiful. As we drove along the street and slowed in front of our house, I was surprised at the forgotten memories triggered by seeing it in real time; assurance that the images of the house sometimes swirling in my mind are not just figments of a made-up charming childhood.

Studying this picture now - back in my New York City apartment - it's not the memories of the house and yard that fill my thoughts: I'm bewildered to realize the size of the second-floor, street-facing, corner bedroom with two walk-in closets I enjoyed in Muscle Shoals is at least three times the size of this small New York City bedroom I sit in now.

What do all the NYC kids do with no room for Barbie house creations, dress-up clothes spilling out of the closet, doll cribs for each baby, palettes in front of the TV for cartoon watching, games of "house" with the wooden stove, table and chairs, or a window for daydreaming into the trees and sky?

You belong here

Last year I explored the Thanksgiving traditions of New York City (read: the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade) and Connecticut (read: a train ride, and sweaters and wine by the fire), and I came to a few conclusions:

1. There is something to be said for watching the parade in your PJs on the couch, where the only person blocking your view is dear ol' Dad when he stops in front of the TV to say, "Ughhh...turn it!"  2. The Connecticut suburbs of historic white-washed houses with backdrops of huge trees of orange and gold may look like the idyllic fall setting, but 3. a northern Thanksgiving dinner that features salad, cold, hard green beans, and dressing stuffed with I-don't-know-what, makes a wandering southern girl long for her Mama's casseroles of broccoli and sweet pa-tay-tas!

Now I can't claim any specific family traditions I wished I was home for last year, unless you count our shouts from the couch for Mama to "Come see!" from the kitchen whatever float, balloon or Rockette during the parade, only for her to rush in to the den in time for the screen to change and miss seeing it.  Maybe we could count as a tradition all the Thanksgiving decorations Mama so loves - her pilgrim man and woman, the beautiful ceramic turkey she painted one year, the Thanksgiving-themed spreaders, to name just a few.  Another almost-tradition is the Indian girl head Elizabeth made in elementary school using a reshaped wire hanger, pantyhose stretched for the face and construction paper for a feathered headdress.  For some reason that thing stayed in the pantry (of all places) for years, awaiting its flourish through the kitchen each Thanksgiving Day.  

Making my way home this year, as I lugged my suitcase from one flight, to the next, to the next, I realized there was one thing I couldn't wait to see, and I wondered if maybe this was our greatest Mummert Thanksgiving tradition.  Years ago, using folded index cards and colored pencils, Elizabeth made the most creative yet simple place cards.  We laughed to see what she had chosen to draw for each of us, and joked at the novelty of having place cards for just the five of us, who sat in the same seats every year anyway.  Those cards were saved, and pulled out of the drawer again the following year and again the next.  Suffering a few gravy stains, Elizabeth redrew them a few years later, using a bit more care and matured colored-pencil skills, now knowing these would be seen year after year.  

I don't know how much thought Elizabeth put into choosing our Thanksgiving caricatures, but I've always thought the drawings represented us fairly well:  

Daddy the patriarchal and Mama the matriarchal pilgrim and Indian figureheads; Julie a cornucopia surely because several decorate her house,  all of them painstakingly hand made by her, at that; Elizabeth as the turkey has always perplexed me, I would have chosen an Indian baby in (what is probably her favorite Native American-related word) a papoose.

Our outdoorsman Chris gets the trees and squirrel, and our sportsfan Gabe appropriately gets the football turkey.

And me, Rebecca, the little Indian girl, who I've always liked to think of as Pocahontas, poking through her surroundings and discovering something new to marvel.  

I Googled "Pocahontas" today to find facts about her that might relate to my personality, further linking my place card to me.  According to Wikipedia, she "became a celebrity during the last year of her life." I'll take celebrity, but I don't want it to be in my last year.  "She was a daughter of Wahunsunacock who ruled...the Tidewater region."  I'm a daughter of a Crimson TIDE fan. Hmmm, still not a convincing enough link.  

But a few lines down, my answer came: "After her baptism, she went by the name Rebecca."

"But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger,

You'll learn things you never knew you never knew."

~ Colors in the Wind from Disney's Pocahontas

Squeals, Screams and New Kid Dreams

The concert we had waited months - if not 18 years - for was all we hoped it would be: the New Kids on the Block could still put on a show, our old heartthrobs singing all our favorites and dancing the same steps we remembered from years ago.   But somewhere during our shrill screaming, our singing and dancing, our jumping up and down, and our hugging and laughing, we got something we didn't even know we had hoped for: a very memorable evening together for two sisters who don't get to see each other enough. 

Mums for me Mum

Grand Army Plaza at Central Park

Seeing these breath-taking colors while marveling at the clear blue sky on this crisp October day, I was reminded that my mom is always with me, and me with her, no matter how many miles separate us.

Happy Birthday Mum-ma! I love you.

A happy kind of sad

Wouldn't you know Julie looks cutest in the picture where she's talking to me! ;)

After hanging up the phone with Julie, I sat back on the couch and giggled for a second, then I sighed and let myself feel sorry for myself for a minute. I might have shed a tear, not knowing if it was for being excited about Julie's news or for thinking of poor me who's not there to celebrate in person. Thinking of all the wedding preparations and dress shopping and flower choosing and catering tasting that I won't be there for, it was one of the only times since I moved to New York that I felt so far from home.

Then again, thinking of all the wedding preparations and dress shopping and flower choosing and catering tasting that I won't be there for...it may not be a bad thing to be so far away!

Congratulations Julie and Gabe!! I can't wait to hug you in person!

www.gabeandjulie.blogspot.com

Julie showing off her ring - isn't she cute?!

Julie and Gabe after the proposal!

Mother's Day Blooms

An email and picture forwarded to me from my mother, sent by a life-long family friend, Teresa Newton, about my Grandma Maudie who passed away earlier this year at the age of 103, who always had a green thumb:

I just had to tell you this. When Arvie first went into the nursing home, Maudie would ride up with me each morning as I went to work. One day, she got in the car and had some pieces of a "mother's day" cactus that she had broken off her plant. She told me to just stick them in dirt and they would root. They did--and they grew and grew and bloomed every year. Then one year, it didn't bloom. The next winter, I was using an unvented gas heater and all of my cacti were dying, so I brought them to the office. Each year at Thanksgiving and Christmas I had blooms. But not my mother's day cactus--it never bloomed again. Periodically, I would threaten it with going on the garbage heap if it didn't bloom. That didn't work either. This week, I went in to my office one day, and guess what: Blooms! It's way past mother's day, but there are blooms. Maybe your Momma is working her flower magic from up above!

Surprise! I'm home!

Top Ten Surprises from My Surprise Trip Home:

1. Daddy doesn't really like to be surprised (despite the way he looks in this picture when he first saw me, and realized it was me...not my little sister.)

2. I just might have narcolepsy.

3. Daddy's grilling powers only work if he's wearing his special chef outfit.

4. My mom can beat your mom at jacks...and don't even touch her around-the-worlds!

5. Daddy will be Nick Saban's sideline stand-in this fall.

6. I'm not as afraid of Elizabeth and Chris's one-eyed cat as I used to be.

7. Daddy can hit a pose on queue.

8. Rojo is closed on Mondays. Call ahead the next time you plan to meet a bunch of your friends there.

(Cafe Ciao is just as fun.)

9. Julie will do anything to show off her flowers and be in a picture - there is a lizard less than two feet from her!

And the most surprising surprise from my surprise trip home...

10. Being home made me homesick! I miss Alabama summertime!

All you Alabamians, please enjoy the mimosa trees along the roadsides for me!

You've not really visited until I've walked you to death

The location: New York City subway, on the 6 train
The time: 2 PM Monday, day three of visit
The characters:
"Julie", visiting her younger sister in New York City
"Rebecca", happy to have her sister there for the first time since she moved A YEAR AGO

The background: After a (shall we say) turbulent trip to New York City in 2003 in which our darling characters fought so much they divorced as sisters in the South Street Seaport (fights mainly due to "Rebecca's" packed-to-the-gills, stick to the times, "does everyone have their printed copy?", Excel-formatted, color-coded sight-seeing schedule...and the characters' low tolerance for hunger, cold and differences of opinion), "Rebecca" has decided to take a low-key approach to her role as NYC hostess/tour guide for "Julie" in order to make every attempt of keeping the peace.

The scene unfolds as the two sisters find seats on the subway train and gratefully sit down to rest their legs for a few minutes as they ride.

Rebecca: (letting out a long breath) ah!
Julie: It feels good to sit down.
Rebecca: mmhmmm.
silence
Rebecca: Don't you just love the 6 line better than the N/R?
Julie: Yeah, it does seem newer.
silence
Rebecca: I'm getting hungry again.
Julie: I have a granola bar in my purse.
Rebecca: No. I'll just wait a bit.
silence - watching other riders on the train
Rebecca: Sooo...what's been your favorite thing so far?
Julie: Um, I don't know. (Shrugging shoulders) It's all been fun.
Rebecca: Yeah, it has, hasn't it. (Nodding in agreement and beginning to beam with satisfaction thinking "I am a good hostess!")
Julie: (In passing) I don't really feel like I've seen that much.
Rebecca: (Takes a second to process.) (Blank stare, eyes widen, mouth opens, eyebrows arch, neck juts forward) You don't feel like you what?
Julie: I mean, it just doesn't feel like we've done a lot. (Sincerely) But I'm having fun!
Rebecca: (Indignant anyway) We've been all over the city! And you don't feel like you've done a lot?!
Julie: No, we have done a lot-
Rebecca: (Cutting her off, and counting the list on her fingers) You've seen my neighborhood, we've visited Jane and my old apartment, we walked to the East River, we toured my old streets, we've eaten at my favorite Alice's Tea Cup and picnicked in Central Park, we've seen the Boathouse, Bethesda Fountain, Sheep's Meadow, played the Big Piano at FAO Schwartz.(Barely pausing to take a breath) We've been to Times Square and Broadway and Rockefeller Center. We've gone to the Flatiron Building, my beloved Madison Square Park, Macy's and Herald Square - we've even done laundry at the Laundro-Mat and toured my grocery store! What do you mean we haven't done a lot!
Julie: I'm saying we have done a lot, okay! I guess it just doesn't feel so...pressured. Like last time.
Rebecca: Oh, well you've got a point there. And we haven't killed each other yet.

Editor's note: I am happy to report the five-day trip continued peacefully with no catastrophic fights or hair pulling.

Julie's "I don't feel like I've really seen anything" photo tour of New York:

On the roof of my old apartment, near Empire State Building, at Rockefeller Center.


Tea and scones at Alice's, picnic in Central Park, pretty scenery at Bethesda Fountain.

Fleet Week sailors, fun in Central Park, styling on Park Avenue.

At the Flat Iron Building, The Bitter End - a family tradition, purse-shopping in Chinatown.

Drinks at 230 5th roof top bar, visiting the Statue of Liberty, walking on the Brooklyn Bridge.