Wedding

My youngest sister got married last Saturday, and we all drove down to Louisville to celebrate. Middle Daughter's Ipod didn't connect to the tape system perfectly, leading to some fading at one speaker or another, but the selections seemed to be adequate compromises. Around about Indianapolis the daughters brought out the keyboard and started rehearsing the song they were to sing at the wedding. It was the first time the youngest joined in the group, so it took a little tinkering to figure out bow to work her voice in (she's a soprano).

The dinner that night featured a Pantagruelean proportioned sub sandwich for me, and people (mostly missionaries and MKs) whom I hadn't seen for at least 35 years. They had changed somewhat. Charley wasn't a short lad anymore, but a buoyant surgeon. Leta and Mariam weren't little girls.

The wedding was different for the groom, who was, for the first time, not running the show (it was in the church he pastors). My sister bounced a bit at the "I do's." One of his daughters played violin and the other had a reading from Song of Solomon and a less auspicious writer. My other sister did an excellent reading from Buechner and the trio sang beautifully.

I didn't bring a camera to the wedding, since as part of the party I'd be one of the photographed rather than photographer. After a short delay the bride and groom came to the reception in white Liberian outfits; my sister sporting one of those inimitable head-ties that require years of experience to create. Guests had come from Florida, Georgia, LA, (Wisconsin, of course) and a dozen other places. Liberian friends, family, school friends, church members--the place was full. I spent quite a bit of time talking with the youngest Tolbert, who wants to be an inventor. We went over technical reasons why rocket boots are a bad idea, and other things. I met some of my mother's cousins who'd last seen me 40 years ago (we needed introductions).

The church ladies put the reception together and smoothly cleaned it up. They'd asked what they could do...

The dinner a few hours later spread out over the lawn and mingled people from around the world who'd known the couple from many different decades. A couple who'd met my mother when they joined her TV project in Liberia, a hearing aid installer explaining how digital devices could be tuned to compensate for individual hearing losses, a medical software manager--and a youth and some young adults with flamboyantly dyed hair (3 of our children).

There wasn't enough time for everybody to talk to everybody--that would have taken a few more days, I suppose.

So, hugs and goodbyes, and perhaps we'll meet again. I hope.