Part 1
AUGUST, 1995
What would you say if I told you Mark and I were getting married?
Several months ago these words came as no shock and I was rather excited to see Ann, my Ex, marry Mark. Then came the news that the wedding would be in our hometown of Grand Island, Nebraska. Things got very expensive from then on. Cheap tickets to San Francisco and two nights in a hotel turned into expensive tickets to Omaha, five nights in hotels and a big car rental bill (gas not included). An itinerary of only a wedding turned into showing people Grand Island and eastern Nebraska, a county fair, seeing all of my family (parents coming up from Arizona), introducing the family to Caitlin, and listening to constant chatter. I got more than I bargained for.
Ordinarily I tell stories chronologically, but I think this whole situation was a series of concurrent timelines. Eight or nine distinct events happening simultaneously, all of which deserved and required attention. An exhausting set of psychologically challenging parallel episodes. These would be:
The wedding started before we arrived. This
is not to say that we were late, or that we missed part of the prenuptials. This is to
say, however, that the wedding started for us, as a group, before we arrived.
Perhaps this still is not clear. As a group we were Tony Gervais, Steve Jones, Matt Nagle, Drew Robinson, Caitlin Dundon and J. LeRoy. The Wedding was an event. It was the event. THE EVENT. But more than this, it was a mindset. A focus. There, all around us, was the wedding. It was the reason we were in Nebraska in August.
For all of us, the Wedding was an entirely different experience. This was not a shared event where everyone, or even any two people, would walk away with similar stories. This is unlike the Hotels section of this story, because the Hotels were definite experiences that had tangible events. So, when I write the Wedding or remember the Wedding, it is as J. LeRoy and probably not as any other person on earth.
I can, however, say the wedding started
before we arrived. We spent Saturday driving around Grand Island, Nebraska.
Grand Island is, for better or worse, my home town. I am defining Home Town as where one spent Junior High and High School and not where one was born. Ann, the Venutian of the wedding, was also from Grand Island. Mark, the Martian, is from the Bay Area.
Grand Island holds many specters for me. They are well exorcised ghosts, but the place still harbors jagged memories. Growing up in Grand Island was a long arduous process and has been the subject of many essays. At this time, however, let s just say when I m there I am ill at ease.
I showed my non-Nebraskan friends all the hot spots of Grand Island. We saw the Post Office, the High School, the Pergola, 2nd Street, 3rd Street, South Locust, the outside of the Connestoga Mall and the Grand Island Regional Airport (the row of phones were replaced by one payphone). We saw my father s old townhomes and I talked about zero lot lines and mixed use development. True to form, people peered out of their windows at us as I took my companions on a tour of the townhome s grounds. Watching closely to make sure we didn t vandalize anything.
It was a typical Nebraskan August day, 100
degrees with 90 percent humidity. The day made just standing up seem like a challenge.
At the beginning of our day we went to the Village Inn Pancake House. Tony said, Everyone is staring at me, and I haven t even done anything.
I told Tony it was because there were no other 30 year olds in Grand Island. They were all little kids or people in their 50s. People were going to stare. We were an alien race.
Tony and Caitlin ordered eggs benedict. The 14 year old waiter asked how they wanted their eggs. Poached, they said. He wrote it down and went away.
I told them that I worked in that very restaurant when I was 14. That s illegal, the table said. Take a look at our waiter, I replied. I made $1.15 an hour there when I was 14. I would often get $15 paychecks. Minimum wage was $2.35, I believe. Restaurants in Grand Island hire underage workers and pay them nothing. It was against the rules for us to ever take a tip from a customer, they were gathered for the head wait staff.
We drove all over Grand Island in the
Pathfinder. We took Drew to the old Burlington Northern Station. The Union Pacific one was
torn down to build a parking lot. Grand Island used to have many buildings, now it has
parking lots. Blazing heat.
It was suddenly time for the wedding proper, so we drove out to Ann s parent s house. We got out there sooner than we expected, the small size of Grand Island continued to shock us. You could drive from one end of town to the other in about 8 minutes. Because we were early we tooled out to see the Grand Island Industrial Park.
After viewing that wonder, we went back. The house was in a development off of the Tom Osborne Expressway. Tom Osborne is the head coach of the Nebraska Football Team. He is in good health. The TOE was dedicated in the early 80s. He was in really good health then. He has his own expressway. I m sure he s proud.
Anyway, we were on the TOE and Tony pointed
out a sideroad we could go down. Matt was in the very back of the Pathfinder with the rear
window open. Tony said, Go there, we can go around. We did. It was a dirt road and dust
filled the car, almost killing off Matt. Oh my god, it s a cloud of dust! he said. So we
all showed up for the wedding gritty.
We arrived at the house without pomp or circumstance. No one met us at the driveway. Which door should we go in? Tony asked. So we ended up walking in the back door by the garage, simply because it was convenient. And there we were. The family was still taking pictures. Ann was emotional and often ran up and downstairs. She didn t greet me, except to say, J., did you shut your cel phone off? I told her I did.
J., how long did you live in Grand Island? Matt asked me. Ten years, I replied. After he left, Caitlin said, I cringe when people call you J. This is as opposed to my street name which is a big secret.
Then we all got flowers for use in the
ceremony. People kept looking at their flowers. Several people appeared nervous to have
the flowers, like they had just been selected to deliver a speech and they were only
wearing underwear and they didn t study. Mine was a sort of hollyish twig and had no
flower part per se. Caitlin took pictures of several people with their flowers or twigs.
Lonnie, the minister, announced that it was time to begin. Then some static came over the speakers in the house. They crackled a bit and then shut off. I knew something was amiss and I hoped it wasn t stressing Ann out too much. She and Mark appeared. Ann looked stressed.
Lonnie talked about how wonderful the wedding was going to be. The first part of the wedding was the handing in of the flowers. Everyone handed them in with a wish for Ann and Mark. Mark gathered them and Ann tied them into a bouquet. Then Timi and Bob read a piece from The Tempest. During this whole time I felt a mix of emotions. A wide mix. From a general dis-ease at the whole marriage thing (they all make me uneasy, no matter how beautiful they may be) to enjoying the crafted care and personality the ceremony had to being sad.
This is the complicated part and certainly
the point at which I know I was unlike anyone else in the room. Ann and I were together
for many years. In many respects, we matured together. We went through some very hellish
times in Michigan. We had a very firm bond, unlike any other I have experienced. I have
written that we grew both together and apart, which is a phrase I have come to dislike for
a variety of reasons, not the least of which being its become a cliche.
But it is more than that. It seems to me, at the time of this writing anyway, that we were two people who helped each other through a lot of emotional healing and that this process was like detox. It was long and often painful. We worked very hard to help each other succeed and to be happy.
When we were growing together, we were working on these problems. Discussing them, composing solutions, testing solutions, dreaming of having them solved, crying about them, screaming about them, working them out.
When we were growing apart, we were solving
them. Going beyond, exploring possiblities.
In this way, as we worked out our problems, we began to serve more as reminders of those past problems and less as change agents. Neither of us consciously did this, but it was inevitable. We had a similar effect on each other as Grand Island did on me.
So Ann and I moved apart. We still love each other, but are not in-love .
My greatest regret out of my relationship with Ann is that we never had some sort of commitment ceremony. Our relationship is consistently and annoyingly undervalued by people who refer to Ann as my ex-girl friend rather than ex-partner or simply ex. I take a lot of pride in my years with Ann. She helped me through very hard times. She almost single handedly taught me how to spell (a pretty useful tool for a writer). She and I explored sexuality, literature, art and diet together. So you can see why this relationship, in all its forms, is very important to me.
All these things were whizzing through my
head while Ann and Mark exchanged vows.
The next thing I knew the ceremony was over and I was talking to John Turner, whom I hadn t seen since he was 15 or so. He was a great deal of fun and I invited him out to stay with us in Seattle. I hardly knew John when I lived in Grand Island, but he reminded me of several of my current friends and, especially at that moment, I appreciated the connection to the present.
The wedding provided a very tasty dinner which was 95% vegetarian. The dinner was prepared by the Dowd s, Central Nebraska s premiere family of steaks. Ann had to provide them with recipies and preparation tips. Apparently, they thought the food was spectacular and are adding some of the dishes to their menus.
Between dinner and the reception, which is
covered in Driving Miss Donna, I had no time to reflect on what was happening. Tony kept
commenting that I was like Frank Burns when Margret Hoolihan got married on M*A*S*H.
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