The cat is back!
My son Mike called me when I was browsing the Suffern Furniture closing sale Sunday to let me know our cat Atticus had returned after vanishing outside ten days ago.
We are not cat people. The cat adopted us.
In mid-September, my 17-year-old son Tom had heard determined meowing outside his bedroom window. When we investigated, we found that a kitten had taken up residence behind a shed that sits against the house by the side door to the basement.
We shone a flashlight into the crevice and saw the kitten’s eyes staring at us. We meowed and the cat meowed back.
We bought cat food and kitty litter at the A&P. We began leaving food for the cat in a dish outside the shed. We angled the dish so that we could watch from a window in our dining room and see the cat eating.
But the kitten was extremely skittish and ran away when we ventured near. Even when the cat was eating, she would feel our eyes upon her, turn around and then skedaddle back into the shed.
Once I surprised her climbing in a tree. She made a mad leap from six feet up in the tree to the shed.
Another time my husband Jim saw her playing with squirrels. I say “her” now, but at that point we couldn’t tell whether she was male or female. My daughter Maeve named her Atticus after a character in “To Kill a Mockingbird.” My son Matt and his then-fiancé Melany came one Sunday and sat outside the shed, waiting for a glimpse of the cat. Melany comes from cat people.
For a couple of days in October, Atticus seemed to have vanished. Her nests in and around the shed were empty when we shone the flashlight in. So we didn’t put out her food. Then she walked up the steps to the back deck, meowing insistently to express her hunger. She ran away when we opened the kitchen door, but we got the message. We put her food out.
By December, it was starting to get cold, and we worried about Atticus surviving in frigid weather. (Although Jim’s brother Kevin’s fiancé Cindi – a true cat lover with four cats of her own--- said feral cats seemed to be able to survive in the cold.)
About two weeks before Christmas, with a combination of “meowing” and a bowl of food, Jim (who thinks of himself as a cat whisperer) succeeded in getting Atticus to scamper through the open front door. She still wouldn’t let us near her. But she took over the house, going everywhere but the kitchen, where the dogs were ensconced. She quickly learned to go in the kitty litter, but also liked to poop in the houseplants on the front staircase landing. (Melany’s mom Susan –a true cat expert—suggested putting ground black pepper into the houseplant soil to deter the cat, but that didn’t seem to work.)
We’d wake up in the middle of the night to find Atticus standing over us in bed or curled in the crook of our knees. If I were writing out checks for bills on the dining room table, she would come and sit on the table and watch me. If I were doing laundry in the basement, she would materialize down there, somehow getting through the back hall with its open door to the kitchen and the ferocious dogs.
She loved to run in front of you when you were walking down the stairs, running with loud and heavy footfalls for a 5-pound cat. She loved to run and chase balls down our long second-floor hallway. She ran like a squirrel.
As she settled in, we bought cat toys, a couple of fluffy mats for a bed, a scratching post and a carrier (pink, it was the only small carrier left at PETCO) for the day when we could bring her to the veterinarian.
A week or two after she came indoors, we managed to get her into the carrier and take her to the vet. The vet did a quick check and announced, “It’s a girl.” Atticus tested negative for feline leukemia and feline AIDS. We had her spayed the next day. (My neighbor Mei Ling, a nuanced animal lover, had begged me – even if we didn’t adopt the cat—to have her spayed before returning her to the wild.)
The vet felt that the cat---estimated to be 6 or 7 months old – had probably been a house kitten in her early months, because she seemed comfortable around people.
Jim, an avowed dog-lover, had a soft spot for the cat. I would find him laughing over her in the bedroom some nights. Maeve would cradle and kiss the cat with all the pent-up intensity of an adolescent. Tom had contradictory feelings: He would meow at the cat, but also was distressed when the cat peed on his bed.
And then, after all the snow and the freezing temperatures of this winter, came two days of delicious warmth (in the fifties and sixties) on February 16th and 17th. I brought the dogs out to romp in the warmth, and it seemed a shame to imprison Atticus indoors. I opened the front door and let her out. She moved a couple of steps out onto the porch, hesitated and then tried to run back inside. But I had shut the door. She scampered down the steps and around the side of the house.
And that was the last we saw of her.
Temperatures dropped to 14 degrees. It snowed six inches on top of at least a foot of frozen snow. Had she fallen through and been trapped in the snow? We shone the flashlight in and around the shed where she had previously taken shelter. No cat.
We would walk onto the front porch and meow suggestively. No response.
We put out Meow Mix, angling the bowl of food so that we could see from the dining room window. The food was gone by next day, but we never saw the cat. Jim said the squirrels had eaten the food.
We saw tiny footprints in the snow, four paw-like spherical impressions. Jim said they were squirrel footprints.
My daughter Maeve blamed me for losing the cat and I blamed myself. Jim said he would have let the cat out under the same circumstances.
I just thought we had established some bond with the cat and she would have come back. When our dogs escaped, they always came back. True, when Duke (our Border Collie mix) was younger, he might range far and wide, and 8-year-old Tom would be chasing him through snowy backyards. The very agile Fella (our Rhodesian Ridgeback mix) escaped every day for a while last year –he could jump up an 8-foot-high stone wall and land on top – but he would just run around the perimeter of the house and wait patiently on the deck until I opened the kitchen door.
Jim thought another family had found Atticus and taken her in.
“But how could that be?” I said. “You couldn’t get close enough to her to get her inside.”
Melany, by now Matt’s wife, said that one of her cats would sometimes disappear for two days at a time. Jim talked to a work friend who seems to be a cat hoarder (10 cats) who told him cats could disappear for 10 days to two weeks.
“So is the cat an indoor cat or an outdoor cat?” Jim asked the work friend.
“Well, if the cat disappears for two weeks when you let it outside, I guess it’s an indoor cat,” the friend replied.
My husband has unresolved grief issues which tend to make him jump to the worst conclusions. When the possibility arose a couple of years back that Duke had ingested rat poison, Jim just said,”He’ll be dead by the morning” and continued eating his dinner.(Instead of concurring, Matt took Duke to the vet, who stuffed the dog full of charcoal to absorb any poisons and vitamin K to promote clotting. Duke lived, although I think he hadn’t actually eaten any rat poison.)
So I think my husband really thought the cat was dead or lost to us forever. Within days of Atticus’ disappearance, Jim fed the dogs all the canned cat food he himself had bought for Atticus ( a rare thing and a sign of Jim’s devotion because Jim doesn’t buy pet food, or human food, for that matter).
The rest of us still harbored hope. On Saturday, Maeve dug through the snow and found a metal pet gate that we had stored outside. She set it up in a corner of the porch. On Sunday morning, I bought more canned cat food. Maeve dumped a can into a bowl and set it inside the fenced-in area. A little while later, she saw Atticus pawing at the gate and meowing with hunger. Mike ran out the kitchen door and around the side of the house to track the cat if she bolted. The cat ran into nearby bushes. Maeve grabbed the bowl of food and lured the cat back inside.
As I write, the cat is getting a little shut-eye on his fluffy mats. (His tail is stirring slightly:Is he dreaming of running with the squirrels?) It is as if the disappearance never happened. (Although with the wisdom of recent experience, we will now take the cat out only on a leash, something our vet does with her cats.)
Jim thinks the cat’s whiskers have grown exponentially during her sabbatical (sa-cattical?) And the cat seems to have gotten bolder toward the dogs. The door to the kitchen remains firmly shut, but Atticus sticks her paw under the door, full well knowing that barkers (maybe biters) reside there. And Duke, whose new position is as sentinel on the other side of the door and whose new goal is to kill the cat, sits mesmerized when he sees that disembodied cat paw flailing around under his nose.
I guess we have become cat people.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
The Best Man Remembers: The Speeches, The Dancing, The After-Parties
These are brother Mike McQueeny's reminiscences about Matt and Melany's wedding...
WEDDING RECEPTION, DECEMBER 31, 9:30 p.m. immediately after Mike's speech:
The maid and matron of honor gave touching speeches about Melany’s friendship throughout the years. Melany’s mother would give a beautifully elegant speech about the strength and courage Melany’s shown whilst dealing with the heartbreak of the loss of her father. They all touched on the person Matt is, and how those similar levels of compassion exist in both of them, and are only amplified by their love for each other.
And then came the other McQueeny speeches. As fellow groomsman JIG would come up and tell me afterwards, “Jeez, you McQueeny’s are rough. I don’t want none of you guys giving me any speeches. You know these are TOASTS, not ROASTS, right?”
My mom would get up there to highlight the years Matt lived at home without a glimmer of hope that he would meet someone as magnificent as Melany. About how, despite the fact Matt and Mel had been dating for months, Matt had not told my parents about her, and had to give my mom a “cheat sheet” of quick facts about Melany to make it seem as though he had been telling us about her the entire time.
Then my dad, ever the competitor with his sons, got up and tried to outdo my roasts by highlighting how glad he was that Matt finally married Melany. Mainly because of how wonderful Melany is, but also because Matt’s dating record pegs him only as “a once-a-decade dater” and that if they didn’t end up getting hitched, there wasn’t much hope until the 2020’s. This prompted my mom to give the classic TV producer move of dragging her thumb across her neck, telling my dad to cut it out.
Then came the dancing.
Or more accurately to say, the over-30 dance party. As myself, along with my cousins, and Matt and Mel’s friends in their 20s looked on helplessly, our mothers, aunts, and uncles poured onto the dance floor. They were not “partying like it was 1999” so much as “dancing like it was 1969.”
For the first and last time in my life, I watched mortified as my dad attempted to muster any kind of dance moves that his genetics of Irish-Catholic blood had for centuries been successfully able to suppress. My Uncle Benny tore it up, doing his best Saturday Night Fever, or at the least, Saturday Night Headache. Even Grandma Betty put all of us young 20-something wall-flowers to shame, as she boogy woogy woogied til she just couldn’t boogie no more. Then came Pastor Stephens. (Despite all the varied Unitarian jokes I could throw in here, for the sake of Melany still feigning tolerance of us, I’ll avoid these jokes at all cost.) While I have no clue what the actual tenets of Unitarianism are, after watching Pastor Stephens, I can say dancing is undoubtedly their 11th commandment. Despite the fact that the dance floor was made of linoleum, all these characters nevertheless effectively cut a rug.
I spent my time walking around, saying hello to as many friends and family members as I could. Suddenly, Ralph, one of the members of the WSITS (Winning Strategies Internet Services) family, came up to me, showing me a coat check and goes, “Mikey, whenever you’re ready, bud.”
At the bachelor party I had introduced the group to a now-illegal drink called 4 Loko, which is basically a heart attack in a can. JIG had been joking around ever since that he was going to smuggle a case of 4 Loko’s into the wedding. I kept informing him that 4 Loko was now illegal in New Jersey, and rested comfortably in the knowledge that this task was close to impossible. On the wedding day, he continued these statements, and told me, “Don’t worry, I got my best man on the job.”
As Ralph approached me that moment, JIGs words rang even truer when I realized that the man he was referring to was Ralph. Even on the bachelor party night, Ralph was like the special forces of partying, no task too tall, no mission too dangerous. Upon being pressed, he’d further tell me that after scouring North Jersey, he finally found a bodega in Newark that had the goods. The fact that “goods” were coming from a “bodega in Newark” should have been alarm enough of the trouble to come.
By the end of the night, JIG and Ralph’s table became like a bootlegging distillery. Table 12 became 1920’s Atlantic City, with JIG standing as Nucky Thompson and Ralph his muscle. For the rest of the night, every time I passed by the table, Ralph would run up to me and go, “Mikey, let me top your drink off.” By the time I’d get back to my table, all my drinks would be bright neon blue, green, or orange. 4 Loko, a mixture of strong caffeine and alcohol, slowly pervaded their corner of the wedding. Within an hour, I’d look over to their corner and notice that it was now home to much of the most emphatic and enthusiastic dancing in the entire room. By the time they started breaking out into choreographed numbers, I knew that all the 4 Loko had been drunk.
Matt was by far the funniest character at the wedding. This was Matt’s day, and he was enjoying every moment of it. Normally a restrained and calm individual, Matt was smiling, dancing enthusiastically, really enjoying himself in a way that I had never seen before. Part of the job of the bride and groom is to go around and thank each person individually for coming to the wedding. In that right, part of the job of the best man is to make sure that throughout this socially strenuous process, Matt always has a fresh drink in hand. I stayed loyal to the mission.
Matt was never out of control, and never visibly seemed drunk. However, the day after the wedding, I was chatting with Matt and Mel and Matt was commenting how his only regret of the wedding was not getting a chance to sample all the varied desserts that had been laid out close to the end of the night.
I looked him in shock. I said, “Matt, are you serious?” He goes, “Yeah, I barely ate anything.” I then filled him in on the fact that not only had every single dessert on the premises been placed at the bride and groom’s private table, but that also, Matt had plopped himself down at the table for a solid 15-20 minutes STUFFING his face with pastries. “Oh,” Matt said, in a moment of confused realization.
The wedding continued for hours, and there was never a lull throughout the night. Everyone danced, ate, drank, and enjoyed themselves. As the night dragged on, I increasingly became exhausted. Exhausted from the nerves I had felt the previous three days, from the lack of sleep from the previous night, from the constant activity of the entire day, and from the fun and excitement of the wedding itself. As the night began to draw to a close, I looked forward to nothing more than simply lying down.
However, everyone still energized from the night wanted to continue the party at the hotel. Groups had brought their own stockpiles of alcohol and personal bars, and I was continually invited and implored to go to various after-hour parties. Given the fact that I’m in my young 20s, and I wanted nothing more than to avoid more fun and simply go to sleep, I became evasive.
I started fashioning my “Irish Exit,” which is a term for when an individual is at a party, and then just leaves without saying goodbye. Once we got back to the hotel, I promised others that I was simply going to change out of my tux. As people became suspect, and asked what room I was in, I started giving fake room numbers. I even took a back staircase to go up to my hotel room, lest I be followed.
Soon after, my cousin Monica, also avoiding participants from the wedding dogging her to hang out, came to hide in my room. After the long hours, I was finally in my bed and able to relax. However, my phone continued to ring and outside my room groups of people scoured the hallways looking for us. Every time I heard a voice in the hallway, I implored everyone to stay quiet for a minute, and at one point, even shut off the lights. There we were, on my brother’s wedding night, and I was hiding away like Anne Frank, afraid of the drunken forces searching me out.
I would find out the next day that one group had been busily knocking on all the fake room numbers I had given them. My Uncle Billy would come up to me the next morning and say, “Mike, some guys were looking for you. They knocked on my door, and virtually forced the door open once I unlocked it.” The worst was that Mrs. Felsen, and Grandma Betty were now sleeping in the room Matt had been sleeping in the night before. This was also the room where all the groomsmen had gotten ready before the wedding. The search party dispatched after me now went to this room, and not only did Grandma Betty open the door for them, but at 3 in the morning, also invited them in to chat for a little bit.
My mom, sister, cousin, Tom, and I sat around in my room and debriefed about the night for a while, until eventually it was easier for me simply to become blunt. “Listen, I like you guys, but you have to get the hell out of here, I need to sleep.” I looked out the peep hole to make sure the coast was clear, and soon after, everyone left. I shut the door, locked it, and with that, the wedding, at least for me, was officially over.
Then, I slept.
WEDDING RECEPTION, DECEMBER 31, 9:30 p.m. immediately after Mike's speech:
The maid and matron of honor gave touching speeches about Melany’s friendship throughout the years. Melany’s mother would give a beautifully elegant speech about the strength and courage Melany’s shown whilst dealing with the heartbreak of the loss of her father. They all touched on the person Matt is, and how those similar levels of compassion exist in both of them, and are only amplified by their love for each other.
And then came the other McQueeny speeches. As fellow groomsman JIG would come up and tell me afterwards, “Jeez, you McQueeny’s are rough. I don’t want none of you guys giving me any speeches. You know these are TOASTS, not ROASTS, right?”
My mom would get up there to highlight the years Matt lived at home without a glimmer of hope that he would meet someone as magnificent as Melany. About how, despite the fact Matt and Mel had been dating for months, Matt had not told my parents about her, and had to give my mom a “cheat sheet” of quick facts about Melany to make it seem as though he had been telling us about her the entire time.
Then my dad, ever the competitor with his sons, got up and tried to outdo my roasts by highlighting how glad he was that Matt finally married Melany. Mainly because of how wonderful Melany is, but also because Matt’s dating record pegs him only as “a once-a-decade dater” and that if they didn’t end up getting hitched, there wasn’t much hope until the 2020’s. This prompted my mom to give the classic TV producer move of dragging her thumb across her neck, telling my dad to cut it out.
Then came the dancing.
Or more accurately to say, the over-30 dance party. As myself, along with my cousins, and Matt and Mel’s friends in their 20s looked on helplessly, our mothers, aunts, and uncles poured onto the dance floor. They were not “partying like it was 1999” so much as “dancing like it was 1969.”
For the first and last time in my life, I watched mortified as my dad attempted to muster any kind of dance moves that his genetics of Irish-Catholic blood had for centuries been successfully able to suppress. My Uncle Benny tore it up, doing his best Saturday Night Fever, or at the least, Saturday Night Headache. Even Grandma Betty put all of us young 20-something wall-flowers to shame, as she boogy woogy woogied til she just couldn’t boogie no more. Then came Pastor Stephens. (Despite all the varied Unitarian jokes I could throw in here, for the sake of Melany still feigning tolerance of us, I’ll avoid these jokes at all cost.) While I have no clue what the actual tenets of Unitarianism are, after watching Pastor Stephens, I can say dancing is undoubtedly their 11th commandment. Despite the fact that the dance floor was made of linoleum, all these characters nevertheless effectively cut a rug.
I spent my time walking around, saying hello to as many friends and family members as I could. Suddenly, Ralph, one of the members of the WSITS (Winning Strategies Internet Services) family, came up to me, showing me a coat check and goes, “Mikey, whenever you’re ready, bud.”
At the bachelor party I had introduced the group to a now-illegal drink called 4 Loko, which is basically a heart attack in a can. JIG had been joking around ever since that he was going to smuggle a case of 4 Loko’s into the wedding. I kept informing him that 4 Loko was now illegal in New Jersey, and rested comfortably in the knowledge that this task was close to impossible. On the wedding day, he continued these statements, and told me, “Don’t worry, I got my best man on the job.”
As Ralph approached me that moment, JIGs words rang even truer when I realized that the man he was referring to was Ralph. Even on the bachelor party night, Ralph was like the special forces of partying, no task too tall, no mission too dangerous. Upon being pressed, he’d further tell me that after scouring North Jersey, he finally found a bodega in Newark that had the goods. The fact that “goods” were coming from a “bodega in Newark” should have been alarm enough of the trouble to come.
By the end of the night, JIG and Ralph’s table became like a bootlegging distillery. Table 12 became 1920’s Atlantic City, with JIG standing as Nucky Thompson and Ralph his muscle. For the rest of the night, every time I passed by the table, Ralph would run up to me and go, “Mikey, let me top your drink off.” By the time I’d get back to my table, all my drinks would be bright neon blue, green, or orange. 4 Loko, a mixture of strong caffeine and alcohol, slowly pervaded their corner of the wedding. Within an hour, I’d look over to their corner and notice that it was now home to much of the most emphatic and enthusiastic dancing in the entire room. By the time they started breaking out into choreographed numbers, I knew that all the 4 Loko had been drunk.
Matt was by far the funniest character at the wedding. This was Matt’s day, and he was enjoying every moment of it. Normally a restrained and calm individual, Matt was smiling, dancing enthusiastically, really enjoying himself in a way that I had never seen before. Part of the job of the bride and groom is to go around and thank each person individually for coming to the wedding. In that right, part of the job of the best man is to make sure that throughout this socially strenuous process, Matt always has a fresh drink in hand. I stayed loyal to the mission.
Matt was never out of control, and never visibly seemed drunk. However, the day after the wedding, I was chatting with Matt and Mel and Matt was commenting how his only regret of the wedding was not getting a chance to sample all the varied desserts that had been laid out close to the end of the night.
I looked him in shock. I said, “Matt, are you serious?” He goes, “Yeah, I barely ate anything.” I then filled him in on the fact that not only had every single dessert on the premises been placed at the bride and groom’s private table, but that also, Matt had plopped himself down at the table for a solid 15-20 minutes STUFFING his face with pastries. “Oh,” Matt said, in a moment of confused realization.
The wedding continued for hours, and there was never a lull throughout the night. Everyone danced, ate, drank, and enjoyed themselves. As the night dragged on, I increasingly became exhausted. Exhausted from the nerves I had felt the previous three days, from the lack of sleep from the previous night, from the constant activity of the entire day, and from the fun and excitement of the wedding itself. As the night began to draw to a close, I looked forward to nothing more than simply lying down.
However, everyone still energized from the night wanted to continue the party at the hotel. Groups had brought their own stockpiles of alcohol and personal bars, and I was continually invited and implored to go to various after-hour parties. Given the fact that I’m in my young 20s, and I wanted nothing more than to avoid more fun and simply go to sleep, I became evasive.
I started fashioning my “Irish Exit,” which is a term for when an individual is at a party, and then just leaves without saying goodbye. Once we got back to the hotel, I promised others that I was simply going to change out of my tux. As people became suspect, and asked what room I was in, I started giving fake room numbers. I even took a back staircase to go up to my hotel room, lest I be followed.
Soon after, my cousin Monica, also avoiding participants from the wedding dogging her to hang out, came to hide in my room. After the long hours, I was finally in my bed and able to relax. However, my phone continued to ring and outside my room groups of people scoured the hallways looking for us. Every time I heard a voice in the hallway, I implored everyone to stay quiet for a minute, and at one point, even shut off the lights. There we were, on my brother’s wedding night, and I was hiding away like Anne Frank, afraid of the drunken forces searching me out.
I would find out the next day that one group had been busily knocking on all the fake room numbers I had given them. My Uncle Billy would come up to me the next morning and say, “Mike, some guys were looking for you. They knocked on my door, and virtually forced the door open once I unlocked it.” The worst was that Mrs. Felsen, and Grandma Betty were now sleeping in the room Matt had been sleeping in the night before. This was also the room where all the groomsmen had gotten ready before the wedding. The search party dispatched after me now went to this room, and not only did Grandma Betty open the door for them, but at 3 in the morning, also invited them in to chat for a little bit.
My mom, sister, cousin, Tom, and I sat around in my room and debriefed about the night for a while, until eventually it was easier for me simply to become blunt. “Listen, I like you guys, but you have to get the hell out of here, I need to sleep.” I looked out the peep hole to make sure the coast was clear, and soon after, everyone left. I shut the door, locked it, and with that, the wedding, at least for me, was officially over.
Then, I slept.
Matt & Melany's Wedding:Part 5 and Final
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The reception, 9 pm, New Year’s Eve:Once again, Crystal Plaza event coordinator Nella lined up the bridal party outside the doors to the ballroom where the wedding guests waited. One of the vocalists from the reception band Cashmere was moving through the group taking names in order to announce each pair as we came through the doors.
The wedding party had spent perhaps 45 minutes having photos taken in various combinations and permutations by photographer Joseph Lin and his assistant. I was especially happy to be part of the photo that included bride and groom, my adoptive family and my bio family . I also enjoyed the photo of Matt with his uncle (my bio-brother) Patrick. The two of them met for the first time around 2006, but they have an uncanny resemblance. Pat could be Matt’s father or older brother. As Pat said to Matt, “You’re lucky the good looks got passed down to you.”
Just before he left, Father White said to Melany’s mother Susan, “ I hope these two last.” This mightily annoyed Susan. But Matt said that was just Father White’s silly, wise-cracking style.
While we took photographs, the wedding guests partook of cocktail hour, which included a fish station with shrimp and smoked meats, a carving station of turkey and beef, a pasta station, an olive station, a potato station, an Asian station, a.quesadilla station with homemade tortilla chips and guacamole, a crudite station with veggies, and a martini station with 3 backlit ice sculptures. The stations were set up around a highly-mirrored large room with a beautiful, mahogany bar. Waiters stepped through the crowd, passing around hors d’oeuvres like duck spring rolls, Thai coconut shrimp and spinach wrapped in phyllo. The word that comes to mind is sumptuous. Uncle Billy was probably stuffing food in his pants.
But I didn’t eat. There were so many people for me to greet, including my handsome godson Nick and his beautiful and smart girlfriend Jane (She's getting her Ph.D at SUNY Binghamton), my beautiful and accomplished Knight nieces(I am so proud of them although I had no role in their upbringing) , my wonderful bio-sisters Margaret and Libby and their spouses Donny and Ed and the impeccably good-looking Patrick and his lovely wife Deb. Our blast-from-the-past friends Bob C. and Dianne D and Ellie and Vince R.. Our financial advisor Bob Traphagen and his charming wife Kristi, longtime family friends. And all of the folks from Winning Stratagies, where Jim and Matt work in Newark. My sisters Margaret B. and Marian were looking especially fine. Uncle Benny and his son, cousin Lou were by the bar, meeting and greeting and trading wisecracks. (They’re both in the restaurant business, so they know how to work a crowd.) Uncle Robert was talking about walking off with the Crystal Plaza silverware. (But he didn’t.) Uncle Kevin in a suit with his long hair looked like Howard Hughes, the later years.
During the cocktail hour, a duo playing an upright bass and a keyboard provided a jazzie mix. All of the musicians –during the ceremony, the cocktail hour, and the reception—came through the auspices of Barry Herman(www.barryherman.com), whose own band had played at Melany’s parents’ wedding in the early Seventies.
Picture-taking ended, the cocktail hour at a close, guests migrated into the grand ballroom, and the wedding party stood just outside the ballroom doors waiting to be introduced.
This ritual introduction has become a lot more stressful since the YouTube video of the unknown bridal party boogeying down the aisle (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-94JhLEiN0), which they later reprised on the plaza at the Today Show, and which the cast of the sitcom “The Office” spoofed at Jim and Pam’s wedding (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jqk5I236DQ).
Everybody –even the mousiest, the most reserved, the least limber—is expected to shake your booty and strut your stuff as you cross the room. There can be no stragglers. We all acquitted ourselves to the strains of The Who’s “Who are You? Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo.”
And then Matt and Mel were introduced. They entered to the song “Baba O’Riley,” also by The Who (who are more a musical fixture of the Baby Boomer generation) and ducked under the linked and outstretched arms of the bridal party.
Their first dance was to what I considered an odd song: “Fix You” by Coldplay.
When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
(But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I will try to fix you
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
I asked Matt why they chose what seems to be such a depressing song. He said it was a kind of inversion:The song is about loss and sadness and Matt and Mel’s relationship is about togetherness and happiness. Plus, he said he was able to help Melany during her time of great loss when her dad died.
Then the mother of the bride danced with the bride to the Martina McBride song “In My Daughter’s Eyes.”
In my daughter's eyes I am a hero
I am strong and wise and I know no fear
But the truth is plain to see
She was sent to rescue me
I see who I want to be
In my daughter's eyes
In my daughter's eyes
Everyone is equal
Darkness turns to light
And the world is at peace
This miracle God gave to me
Gives me strength when I'm weak
I find reason to believe
In my daughter's eyes
And when she wraps her hand around my finger
Oh it puts a smile in my heart
Everything becomes a little clearer
I realize what life is all about
It's hangin' on when your heart
Is had enough
It's givin' more when you feel like givin' up
I've seen the light
It's in my daughter's eyes
In my daughter's eyes
I can see the future
A reflection of who I am
And what we'll be
And though she'll grow and someday leave
Maybe raise a family
When I'm gone
I hope you'll see
How happy she made me
For I'll be there
In my daughter's eyes
Very touching lyrics, and in case you haven’t figured this one out, Susan adores her daughter Melany. The feeling is mutual.
Then Matt and I had our dance to the Carly Simon song “Coming Around Again.” I had played this song endlessly on my car audio system when I was picking Matt and Mike up after school 19 or 20 years ago. We’d interpose our own words like this:
Baby sneezes (“That’s Kendall,” we’d shout.)
Mommy pleases (“That’s Aunt Nora”)
Daddy breezes in (“That’s Uncle John”)
So good on paper
So romantic
So bewildering
I know nothing stays the same
But if you’re willing to play the game
It will be coming around again
So don’t mind if I fall part
There’s more room in a broken heart..
We sat to eat dinner and to listen to toasts. We dug into fresh mozzarella, roasted pepper and plum tomato with basil-infused olive oil and balsamic reduction accompanied by arugula, radicchio, and Belgium endive served with balsamic vinaigrette. For entrée, we had a choice of Chateaubriand steak, herb-roasted chicken, herb-encrusted salmon, or vegetable lasagna.
And the speeches began.
My number two son Mike—the best man—has already recorded his speech in this blog. He did a great job. I especially liked the line that a crazy night for Matt in college was when Mom ordered him two pizzas instead of just one. And that Matt’s toughest breakup was when Mike and the Mad Dog split up and ended their show on WFAN sports radio and Yes network television. This was particularly poignant to me because I remember all those weekdays after Matt had graduated college and had not yet gotten a job when he would come into the family room right before 1 in the afternoon when the show started and begin singing the theme song to “Mike and the Mad Dog.”(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7KFKU-rIvHw).
Mike’s voice broke when he talked about how Melany had helped me get surgery for trigeminal neuralgia –face and jaw pain that was debilitating for me. I was surprised by his emotion. McQueenys are more wise-crackers than weepers.
It is indicative of Melany’s great loyalty to her friends that she had two witnesses:Matron of honor Celeste Zazzali and maid of honor Jessica Zelizo.
Celeste is a tiny woman with beautiful brown eyes who runs marathons. (Melany made Matt go to Celeste’s party after the NYC marathon even though it was the day after his bachelor party and he was feeling the pain.) Celeste is an oboist and an elementary school music teacher and a scrapbooker. She and Melany met as undergraduates when they were both hired to work for the Director of Bands at the College of New Jersey. They didn’t really like each other when they first met in August of 2000.
But, says Melany, “ Celeste always tells a story that one day we were in our office working together toward the end of our first semester and she asked me something and I gave her a sarcastic response. It made her laugh. As soon as we became friends we were inseparable. We were a package deal. She has been there for me no matter what.”
Celeste rose to offer her toast as matron of honor, walking around the “sweetheart table” where Matt and Mel sat.
“Good evening! Tonight is the best of nights because there is so much to celebrate. Before I say my piece, I want to thank Melany & Matt for allowing me to stand by their side on the most important day of their lives; I want to extend my gratitude to their families for their love and support of this fabulous couple and for making this day possible; and I want to thank all of you for indulging me in the next few minutes. Since I am one of three speeches tonight, I will do my best to keep this brief. Melany has always been a role model for me and I suspect I am not alone in saying that. In the ten years that we have been friends, I have had the opportunity to laugh with her, seek comfort from her, and learn from her. She is the best person I know, and I admire her in so many ways. Tonight I’m going to discuss what makes Melany the person who she is and why she is someone to look up to as a role-model.
“Everything about Melany is beautiful. It goes without saying, but her outer beauty is obvious. Melany, you look absolutely stunning today! And as gorgeous as you are on the outside, you are infinitely more beautiful on the inside. Melany’s character is one that I strive to emulate in my life.
“Melany is strong. Life has thrown her more than her fair share of challenging times. She has handled all of these situations with grace and strength. The strength in Melany’s heart will keep your marriage together for a lifetime. Her strength has been portrayed in many different ways. Whether it was putting Dr. Silvester, an intimidating band director, in his place; never letting her health concerns pull her spirits down; or sticking up for her friends like the time the hotel tried to pull a fast one on us in Vegas. Whenever I find myself in a situation where I have to fight to get what I want, I channel my “Inner-Melany” and think, “What would Melany do?”
“Melany is selfless. Melany has never had a problem taking care of others. She does it like it is her job, her purpose in the world, and she does it without asking for anything in return. Such as the time I was sick and I wouldn’t admit it. We were at my parents’ house and I was stubbornly insisting that I was fine. Melany nodded and handed me the TheraFlu. Or the time before my wedding, she made me feel special even though her knee was on the brink of yet another surgery. She never complained even though she was in pain. She was more concerned about the smile on my face.
“Melany is a listener. Whether we’re meeting up for a cup of coffee or catching up on one of our weekly phone calls, Melany is a master in the art of listening. No matter what is going on in her life, and we all know there have been some turbulent times, she will give you her undivided attention. There have been countless hours where I’ve told her every detail about the next race I want to run, or the exact shade I want to use in a scrapbook I’m making. The same conversation that causes my husband’s eyes to glaze over, Melany absorbs every detail and endures it because she knows how important it is to me. And then during our next phone call, she’ll ask about it in such detail showing you just how well she really was listening.
“Those are just a few of Melany’s best characteristics: beauty, strength, selflessness, and the ability to really listen. I could go on, but I think I’ve already made my point that Melany is an outstanding person, is a role model, and she attracts good people to her like a magnet. Matt, this is where you come in. The same qualities that you saw in Melany that made her fit to be your wife are the same characteristics that drew her to you. You are also strong, selfless, an excellent listener, and you two are going to have some good-looking kids!! On top of that, you have a great sense of humor, an overwhelming amount of patience, and are an honest man whom we all trust with Melany’s heart. When you put two incredible people like Melany and Matt together the result is a beautiful marriage. Future couples will look up to you both as role models and see an example of a first-rate marriage that will last a lifetime.
“With those thoughts, I wish you both the best that your marriage has to offer. Let’s all raise our glasses high and drink to the happiness of this beautiful couple. Cheers!”
Next up was Melany’s friend from childhood, maid of honor Jessica Zelizo. Jess looked especially fetching in the black bridesmaid’s gown, with her dark eyes and her dark hair curling down her back. Melany and Jess’ friendship dates all the way back to the womb.
Jess talked about how her dad had walked up the street when Susan and Steven Felsen moved into their lake community, and had told the pregnant Susan that she better give birth to a girl because the Zelizos had a brand-new baby girl. They spent their childhood playing, talking and dreaming in each other’s homes.
As the best man,, and matron/maids of honor were giving their speeches, Susan and I were formulating what we were going to say. Crystal Plaza event coordinator Nella had told us our speeches were next and,for some reason, neither of us had quite comprehended in the days before the event that we were supposed to give a speech.
When Susan was introduced, she talked about the joy Melany has brought to the family, and how her gift of music has given them so many wonderful memories of concerts, recitals, and performances She talked about how proud she is of Melany and how she has handled the challenges life has given her. Susan thanked Matt for helping Mel’s heart heal after the loss of her dad, and she closed with something Grandma Betty always says, "May your joys be many and your sorrows few."
(There’s really no kinship term to describe the relationship between two families brought together by marriage. Susan, Betty, Aunt Jayme, and Cousin Jayme are Matt’s in-laws, but what are they to me? It feels like I have been blessed with another set of sisters, and I am most grateful.)
I had scribbled just two words on a piece of paper for my speech: “don’t ask, don’t tell” and “cheat sheet..”
When I rose to speak, I started out by talking about how Matt, as our firstborn, was always the prince of our family. I talked about how Matt and Melany shared a love of music and a love of baseball, even though the Felsen-Innes family are Yankee fans and the McQueenys are strictly Mets fans.
However, I told the group, I didn’t even know about Melany until perhaps 18 months after they began dating. I explained that, in the McQueeny household, much as in the US military, we have a policy of “don’t ask, don’t tell” when it comes to romantic relationships. I said I don’t have any idea of the identities or numbers of girlfriends Tom has had, even though I’ve sat outside numerous girls’ homes late at night waiting to pick up Tom before he got his driver’s license.
And so, even though Matt had been to Susan and Melany’s home many times and even to Grandma Betty and Aunt Jayme’s home many times, and even had his own seat of honor in Betty’s TV room when they all watched sports, Matt’s family had no idea he had a girlfriend, let alone a SERIOUS girlfriend. (I explained that I had found a Christmas card signed “Fondly, Melany” when I was cleaning out his room after he moved out to his Edgewater co-op. So sue me, I’m nosy. But I didn’t ask and he didn’t tell.)
But Melany was pressuring him to meet his family, and so Matt finally told me he had been dating a girl for a while and she wanted to meet us. He e-mailed me a “cheat sheet” of factoids about Melany, so that it would appear he had been telling us about her all along. On the “cheat sheet”: She was a middle-school music teacher and band director, graduate of The College of New Jersey with a masters’ from the Peabody Institute of Johns Hopkins. She was slender and pretty. She was occasionally a model. She was a great cook. She played the clarinet.
We met Melany at a PF Chang’s –Matt’s favorite restaurant at the time—and she was all of the above and more. We met Susan at a “Cheeseburger in Paradise” in Wayne in September of 2008, and we met the rest of the family around Christmas.
Fast-forward to another momentous dinner in early December of 2009. Matt and I had gone to Melany’s student Christmas concert, and after we heard her band perform, we snuck out to get dinner. Matt told me how, on their tour of the California wine country the month before, Melany had suggested they go ring-browsing. Not ring-shopping, mind you. Ring-browsing. And they had met a ring salesman who had really put the screws to Matt, saying that if Matt really loved Melany, he would have no trouble spending thousands of dollars on her ring, since traditionally a man spends three months of his salary on the engagement ring.
(“The salesman asked,”How much is your love worth?'” Matt piped in from the sweetheart table.)
At our post-concert dinner, Matt told me that he had balked at the ring salesman’s pressure tactics and told Melany he thought it was a waste of money to spend so much on a ring.
“But she’s been crying a lot lately, Mom,” Matt said. “I don’t know what to do.”
I could understand his quandary, panic even. McQueenys aren’t criers, and when faced with crying, we have no adequate response.
I told Matt that maybe he should do what Dad did when we were dating.
“Dad told me that if he kept dating me we would end up getting married and he didn’t want to get married, so he was breaking up with me,” I told Matt. “After about two weeks, he said,’I guess we should get back together.’ Maybe if you break up, it will reveal your true feelings.”
“But I don’t want to break up, Mom,” he said.
“Well, then, if the ring is important to Melany, man up and spend the money,” I said.
And thus, I told the wedding group, I have another beautiful daughter. I am so glad Matt manned up and we are here tonight.
Finally, it was Dad’s turn to speak. Jim is a seasoned, easy, entertaining speaker (I always say I married him for his stories), but he has one serious character flaw. And in a family where humor is a core family value, this is a serious character flaw: He tries to ride the coattails of a successful joke. So, if Matt has told a really funny joke or Mike has uttered a riposte that leaves us weak with laughter or Tom has done a dead-on imitation, Jim tries to milk the laugh they’ve generated with a lesser joke, a junior joke, a runt joke.
(This reminds of the time when Jerry Seinfeld went into the Catholic confessional box to complain to the priest that the Catholic dentist Tim Watley had converted to Judaism for the jokes. “And this offends you as a Jew?” asked the priest. “No,” said Seinfeld. “It offends me as a comedian.”)
Jim started off his speech nicely enough, saying that between Matt’s parents and Mel’s parents, we represent 65 years of married life, so they can look to our experience. Then he tried to jump on Mike’s previous laugh lines, saying that he was surprised we were here at Matt’s wedding, because Matt dated so infrequently he was a once-a-decade dater. (I thought this was a low blow, not at all nuanced the way Mike’s roast was, and so I gave Jim the “cut” sign.)
Jim said the McQueeny family avoided public displays of affection, and it took some getting used to to rise to the Felsen-Innes level of open affection. But, said Jim, “I’m taking training, Melany, so that I can hug more.”
And Melany got up and hugged Jim.
After that, it was dancing. I love to dance, and was dancing up a storm. I danced the pretzel dance with my brother-in-law Donny O. I danced around Maeve and Tom, because it’s a parent’s prerogative to embarrass her children. My children and nieces and nephews didn’t dance much. They watched us boomers make fools of ourselves.
But the most stellar dancer of the evening was the Unitarian minister. He bogeyed, twisted and slithered his way through fast and slow songs. I mentioned his prowess to Susan, and she said, “We Unitarians are a diverse bunch.”
Matt and Melany cut the cake, a beautiful five-tier cake by Ace of Cakes of Baltimore shaped like the New York skyline and emblazoned with the Yankees and Mets insignias, with fireworks in the sky and two champagne flutes for a cake topper. There were two different flavors: mint chocolate chip and apple cinnamon with butter scotch topping.
They then did the traditional feeding of the cake to each other. Matt voiced his fear that Melany was going to smash the cake into his face, the way some brides and grooms do. But she did not.
The cocktail-hour room had been transformed into a dessert palace, with a Viennese table of pastries and cookies, an ice cream bar, a chocolate fondue bar, a coffee bar, and a zeppoli station complete with paper bags so you could shake the zeppolis in a bagful of sugar.
Melany then ascended to the Juliet balcony overlooking the ballroom, and as the band sang the Beyonce song “All the Single Ladies,” she threw her bouquet. Jessica Zelizo snared it. Maeve’s friend Myrna said, “That was a set-up. There was no chance we were going to catch it.”
At some point during the festivities, Cousin Jayme—who is getting married in September -- told Melany, “Remember, you are the bride only until 1.01 am, when your wedding ends. At that point, I become the bride and you become the bridesmaid.”
Another transformation was imminent: It was almost midnight. Susan and Melany handed out the noisemakers Susan had gotten for New Year’s Eve. Melany and Matt were wearing glasses that said 2011 and Melany was adorned with a black-and-pink boa. As it hit midnight, we went around kissing family and friends. What a nice way to welcome the New Year. Photographer Joe Lin climbed to the balcony and took a photo of the crowd from on high.
Finally, it was time to wrap up. My nephew Lou Benedetto departed for the airport to head back to Arizona. Hotel-bound wedding guests were waiting in the Crystal Plaza entry for the shuttle. Grandma Betty was upset that a waiter clearing her table had inadvertently spilled a drink on her outfit.
Because Jim had his car, we were conscripted to ferry big aluminum trays of desserts the Crystal Plaza staff had packed for us. We loaded in a couple of bags containing Melany’s veil and Susan’s veil, and the poster-sized card describing the menu.
I chatted with Mike, Tom, Maeve and Monica in Mike’s room for a while. I was just getting ready for bed around 3 – Jim was already snoring --when my cell phone rang. It was Matt.
“Mom, did you take Melany’s bouquet in your car? She wants to preserve it, and she’s supposed to keep it refrigerated.”
“Matt, I frankly don’t know what’s in the car, but, if it’s in there, it IS refrigerated,, because it’s cold out.”
“Melany is worried. She doesn’t know where her bouquet is.”
And I thought, welcome to marriage, Matt. Her worries become your worries. I also empathized with Melany, who had attended to so many details to make this wedding work. This was one last detail she wanted to get right. It was keeping her from getting to sleep.
“Put Melany on the phone, Matt,” I said.
“Melany, I’ll just go down to the car and check for the bouquet,” I said.
“I don’t want to put you to any trouble, Mary,” she said.
“It’s easy,” I said.
I threw a coat over my pajamas, and put on my flat dancing shoes. Maeve came with me. I went through the contents of the car. No bouquet. We couldn’t open the door to get back into the hotel with our key card. Luckily someone was walking through the back hallway and opened the door for us.
I called them back. “The bouquet isn’t in the car,” I said. “But I can drive back to the Crystal Plaza and get it.”
“There won’t be anyone there at this point,” said Matt. “It’s pointless. We’ll get the bouquet tomorrow.”
“You sure?” I said. “It’s no trouble.”
“We’ll get it tomorrow,” Matt repeated. I prayed Melany got some sleep.
The next morning, the wedding guests still in residence at the hotel joined us at a breakfast we had arranged. When Matt and Melany entered the room in jeans and sweats, they were like royalty on the down-low. Everybody cheered. Grandma Betty told us about the inebriated men in tuxes who had knocked on her bedroom door in the middle of the night.
When the bill came, the maitre d’ gave it to my sister Libby. I guess she looks like the boss or the family matriarch. Everyone said their good-byes. My husband, brothers-in-law and children dispersed to their cars. My niece Monica went to get her babes.
I drove out of the hotel, passing my son Matt talking to his high school friend Chris Kerrigan. I went a mileor two when I got a call from my sister Margaret B. asking for a ride. I doubled back to the hotel, and picked up Margaret. Matt was still talking to Chris Kerrigan.
I put my car in gear and drove out of the wonderful wedding bubble and back into normalcy.
The reception, 9 pm, New Year’s Eve:Once again, Crystal Plaza event coordinator Nella lined up the bridal party outside the doors to the ballroom where the wedding guests waited. One of the vocalists from the reception band Cashmere was moving through the group taking names in order to announce each pair as we came through the doors.
The wedding party had spent perhaps 45 minutes having photos taken in various combinations and permutations by photographer Joseph Lin and his assistant. I was especially happy to be part of the photo that included bride and groom, my adoptive family and my bio family . I also enjoyed the photo of Matt with his uncle (my bio-brother) Patrick. The two of them met for the first time around 2006, but they have an uncanny resemblance. Pat could be Matt’s father or older brother. As Pat said to Matt, “You’re lucky the good looks got passed down to you.”
Just before he left, Father White said to Melany’s mother Susan, “ I hope these two last.” This mightily annoyed Susan. But Matt said that was just Father White’s silly, wise-cracking style.
While we took photographs, the wedding guests partook of cocktail hour, which included a fish station with shrimp and smoked meats, a carving station of turkey and beef, a pasta station, an olive station, a potato station, an Asian station, a.quesadilla station with homemade tortilla chips and guacamole, a crudite station with veggies, and a martini station with 3 backlit ice sculptures. The stations were set up around a highly-mirrored large room with a beautiful, mahogany bar. Waiters stepped through the crowd, passing around hors d’oeuvres like duck spring rolls, Thai coconut shrimp and spinach wrapped in phyllo. The word that comes to mind is sumptuous. Uncle Billy was probably stuffing food in his pants.
But I didn’t eat. There were so many people for me to greet, including my handsome godson Nick and his beautiful and smart girlfriend Jane (She's getting her Ph.D at SUNY Binghamton), my beautiful and accomplished Knight nieces(I am so proud of them although I had no role in their upbringing) , my wonderful bio-sisters Margaret and Libby and their spouses Donny and Ed and the impeccably good-looking Patrick and his lovely wife Deb. Our blast-from-the-past friends Bob C. and Dianne D and Ellie and Vince R.. Our financial advisor Bob Traphagen and his charming wife Kristi, longtime family friends. And all of the folks from Winning Stratagies, where Jim and Matt work in Newark. My sisters Margaret B. and Marian were looking especially fine. Uncle Benny and his son, cousin Lou were by the bar, meeting and greeting and trading wisecracks. (They’re both in the restaurant business, so they know how to work a crowd.) Uncle Robert was talking about walking off with the Crystal Plaza silverware. (But he didn’t.) Uncle Kevin in a suit with his long hair looked like Howard Hughes, the later years.
During the cocktail hour, a duo playing an upright bass and a keyboard provided a jazzie mix. All of the musicians –during the ceremony, the cocktail hour, and the reception—came through the auspices of Barry Herman(www.barryherman.com), whose own band had played at Melany’s parents’ wedding in the early Seventies.
Picture-taking ended, the cocktail hour at a close, guests migrated into the grand ballroom, and the wedding party stood just outside the ballroom doors waiting to be introduced.
This ritual introduction has become a lot more stressful since the YouTube video of the unknown bridal party boogeying down the aisle (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-94JhLEiN0), which they later reprised on the plaza at the Today Show, and which the cast of the sitcom “The Office” spoofed at Jim and Pam’s wedding (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jqk5I236DQ).
Everybody –even the mousiest, the most reserved, the least limber—is expected to shake your booty and strut your stuff as you cross the room. There can be no stragglers. We all acquitted ourselves to the strains of The Who’s “Who are You? Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo.”
And then Matt and Mel were introduced. They entered to the song “Baba O’Riley,” also by The Who (who are more a musical fixture of the Baby Boomer generation) and ducked under the linked and outstretched arms of the bridal party.
Their first dance was to what I considered an odd song: “Fix You” by Coldplay.
When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
(But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I will try to fix you
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
I asked Matt why they chose what seems to be such a depressing song. He said it was a kind of inversion:The song is about loss and sadness and Matt and Mel’s relationship is about togetherness and happiness. Plus, he said he was able to help Melany during her time of great loss when her dad died.
Then the mother of the bride danced with the bride to the Martina McBride song “In My Daughter’s Eyes.”
In my daughter's eyes I am a hero
I am strong and wise and I know no fear
But the truth is plain to see
She was sent to rescue me
I see who I want to be
In my daughter's eyes
In my daughter's eyes
Everyone is equal
Darkness turns to light
And the world is at peace
This miracle God gave to me
Gives me strength when I'm weak
I find reason to believe
In my daughter's eyes
And when she wraps her hand around my finger
Oh it puts a smile in my heart
Everything becomes a little clearer
I realize what life is all about
It's hangin' on when your heart
Is had enough
It's givin' more when you feel like givin' up
I've seen the light
It's in my daughter's eyes
In my daughter's eyes
I can see the future
A reflection of who I am
And what we'll be
And though she'll grow and someday leave
Maybe raise a family
When I'm gone
I hope you'll see
How happy she made me
For I'll be there
In my daughter's eyes
Very touching lyrics, and in case you haven’t figured this one out, Susan adores her daughter Melany. The feeling is mutual.
Then Matt and I had our dance to the Carly Simon song “Coming Around Again.” I had played this song endlessly on my car audio system when I was picking Matt and Mike up after school 19 or 20 years ago. We’d interpose our own words like this:
Baby sneezes (“That’s Kendall,” we’d shout.)
Mommy pleases (“That’s Aunt Nora”)
Daddy breezes in (“That’s Uncle John”)
So good on paper
So romantic
So bewildering
I know nothing stays the same
But if you’re willing to play the game
It will be coming around again
So don’t mind if I fall part
There’s more room in a broken heart..
We sat to eat dinner and to listen to toasts. We dug into fresh mozzarella, roasted pepper and plum tomato with basil-infused olive oil and balsamic reduction accompanied by arugula, radicchio, and Belgium endive served with balsamic vinaigrette. For entrée, we had a choice of Chateaubriand steak, herb-roasted chicken, herb-encrusted salmon, or vegetable lasagna.
And the speeches began.
My number two son Mike—the best man—has already recorded his speech in this blog. He did a great job. I especially liked the line that a crazy night for Matt in college was when Mom ordered him two pizzas instead of just one. And that Matt’s toughest breakup was when Mike and the Mad Dog split up and ended their show on WFAN sports radio and Yes network television. This was particularly poignant to me because I remember all those weekdays after Matt had graduated college and had not yet gotten a job when he would come into the family room right before 1 in the afternoon when the show started and begin singing the theme song to “Mike and the Mad Dog.”(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7KFKU-rIvHw).
Mike’s voice broke when he talked about how Melany had helped me get surgery for trigeminal neuralgia –face and jaw pain that was debilitating for me. I was surprised by his emotion. McQueenys are more wise-crackers than weepers.
It is indicative of Melany’s great loyalty to her friends that she had two witnesses:Matron of honor Celeste Zazzali and maid of honor Jessica Zelizo.
Celeste is a tiny woman with beautiful brown eyes who runs marathons. (Melany made Matt go to Celeste’s party after the NYC marathon even though it was the day after his bachelor party and he was feeling the pain.) Celeste is an oboist and an elementary school music teacher and a scrapbooker. She and Melany met as undergraduates when they were both hired to work for the Director of Bands at the College of New Jersey. They didn’t really like each other when they first met in August of 2000.
But, says Melany, “ Celeste always tells a story that one day we were in our office working together toward the end of our first semester and she asked me something and I gave her a sarcastic response. It made her laugh. As soon as we became friends we were inseparable. We were a package deal. She has been there for me no matter what.”
Celeste rose to offer her toast as matron of honor, walking around the “sweetheart table” where Matt and Mel sat.
“Good evening! Tonight is the best of nights because there is so much to celebrate. Before I say my piece, I want to thank Melany & Matt for allowing me to stand by their side on the most important day of their lives; I want to extend my gratitude to their families for their love and support of this fabulous couple and for making this day possible; and I want to thank all of you for indulging me in the next few minutes. Since I am one of three speeches tonight, I will do my best to keep this brief. Melany has always been a role model for me and I suspect I am not alone in saying that. In the ten years that we have been friends, I have had the opportunity to laugh with her, seek comfort from her, and learn from her. She is the best person I know, and I admire her in so many ways. Tonight I’m going to discuss what makes Melany the person who she is and why she is someone to look up to as a role-model.
“Everything about Melany is beautiful. It goes without saying, but her outer beauty is obvious. Melany, you look absolutely stunning today! And as gorgeous as you are on the outside, you are infinitely more beautiful on the inside. Melany’s character is one that I strive to emulate in my life.
“Melany is strong. Life has thrown her more than her fair share of challenging times. She has handled all of these situations with grace and strength. The strength in Melany’s heart will keep your marriage together for a lifetime. Her strength has been portrayed in many different ways. Whether it was putting Dr. Silvester, an intimidating band director, in his place; never letting her health concerns pull her spirits down; or sticking up for her friends like the time the hotel tried to pull a fast one on us in Vegas. Whenever I find myself in a situation where I have to fight to get what I want, I channel my “Inner-Melany” and think, “What would Melany do?”
“Melany is selfless. Melany has never had a problem taking care of others. She does it like it is her job, her purpose in the world, and she does it without asking for anything in return. Such as the time I was sick and I wouldn’t admit it. We were at my parents’ house and I was stubbornly insisting that I was fine. Melany nodded and handed me the TheraFlu. Or the time before my wedding, she made me feel special even though her knee was on the brink of yet another surgery. She never complained even though she was in pain. She was more concerned about the smile on my face.
“Melany is a listener. Whether we’re meeting up for a cup of coffee or catching up on one of our weekly phone calls, Melany is a master in the art of listening. No matter what is going on in her life, and we all know there have been some turbulent times, she will give you her undivided attention. There have been countless hours where I’ve told her every detail about the next race I want to run, or the exact shade I want to use in a scrapbook I’m making. The same conversation that causes my husband’s eyes to glaze over, Melany absorbs every detail and endures it because she knows how important it is to me. And then during our next phone call, she’ll ask about it in such detail showing you just how well she really was listening.
“Those are just a few of Melany’s best characteristics: beauty, strength, selflessness, and the ability to really listen. I could go on, but I think I’ve already made my point that Melany is an outstanding person, is a role model, and she attracts good people to her like a magnet. Matt, this is where you come in. The same qualities that you saw in Melany that made her fit to be your wife are the same characteristics that drew her to you. You are also strong, selfless, an excellent listener, and you two are going to have some good-looking kids!! On top of that, you have a great sense of humor, an overwhelming amount of patience, and are an honest man whom we all trust with Melany’s heart. When you put two incredible people like Melany and Matt together the result is a beautiful marriage. Future couples will look up to you both as role models and see an example of a first-rate marriage that will last a lifetime.
“With those thoughts, I wish you both the best that your marriage has to offer. Let’s all raise our glasses high and drink to the happiness of this beautiful couple. Cheers!”
Next up was Melany’s friend from childhood, maid of honor Jessica Zelizo. Jess looked especially fetching in the black bridesmaid’s gown, with her dark eyes and her dark hair curling down her back. Melany and Jess’ friendship dates all the way back to the womb.
Jess talked about how her dad had walked up the street when Susan and Steven Felsen moved into their lake community, and had told the pregnant Susan that she better give birth to a girl because the Zelizos had a brand-new baby girl. They spent their childhood playing, talking and dreaming in each other’s homes.
As the best man,, and matron/maids of honor were giving their speeches, Susan and I were formulating what we were going to say. Crystal Plaza event coordinator Nella had told us our speeches were next and,for some reason, neither of us had quite comprehended in the days before the event that we were supposed to give a speech.
When Susan was introduced, she talked about the joy Melany has brought to the family, and how her gift of music has given them so many wonderful memories of concerts, recitals, and performances She talked about how proud she is of Melany and how she has handled the challenges life has given her. Susan thanked Matt for helping Mel’s heart heal after the loss of her dad, and she closed with something Grandma Betty always says, "May your joys be many and your sorrows few."
(There’s really no kinship term to describe the relationship between two families brought together by marriage. Susan, Betty, Aunt Jayme, and Cousin Jayme are Matt’s in-laws, but what are they to me? It feels like I have been blessed with another set of sisters, and I am most grateful.)
I had scribbled just two words on a piece of paper for my speech: “don’t ask, don’t tell” and “cheat sheet..”
When I rose to speak, I started out by talking about how Matt, as our firstborn, was always the prince of our family. I talked about how Matt and Melany shared a love of music and a love of baseball, even though the Felsen-Innes family are Yankee fans and the McQueenys are strictly Mets fans.
However, I told the group, I didn’t even know about Melany until perhaps 18 months after they began dating. I explained that, in the McQueeny household, much as in the US military, we have a policy of “don’t ask, don’t tell” when it comes to romantic relationships. I said I don’t have any idea of the identities or numbers of girlfriends Tom has had, even though I’ve sat outside numerous girls’ homes late at night waiting to pick up Tom before he got his driver’s license.
And so, even though Matt had been to Susan and Melany’s home many times and even to Grandma Betty and Aunt Jayme’s home many times, and even had his own seat of honor in Betty’s TV room when they all watched sports, Matt’s family had no idea he had a girlfriend, let alone a SERIOUS girlfriend. (I explained that I had found a Christmas card signed “Fondly, Melany” when I was cleaning out his room after he moved out to his Edgewater co-op. So sue me, I’m nosy. But I didn’t ask and he didn’t tell.)
But Melany was pressuring him to meet his family, and so Matt finally told me he had been dating a girl for a while and she wanted to meet us. He e-mailed me a “cheat sheet” of factoids about Melany, so that it would appear he had been telling us about her all along. On the “cheat sheet”: She was a middle-school music teacher and band director, graduate of The College of New Jersey with a masters’ from the Peabody Institute of Johns Hopkins. She was slender and pretty. She was occasionally a model. She was a great cook. She played the clarinet.
We met Melany at a PF Chang’s –Matt’s favorite restaurant at the time—and she was all of the above and more. We met Susan at a “Cheeseburger in Paradise” in Wayne in September of 2008, and we met the rest of the family around Christmas.
Fast-forward to another momentous dinner in early December of 2009. Matt and I had gone to Melany’s student Christmas concert, and after we heard her band perform, we snuck out to get dinner. Matt told me how, on their tour of the California wine country the month before, Melany had suggested they go ring-browsing. Not ring-shopping, mind you. Ring-browsing. And they had met a ring salesman who had really put the screws to Matt, saying that if Matt really loved Melany, he would have no trouble spending thousands of dollars on her ring, since traditionally a man spends three months of his salary on the engagement ring.
(“The salesman asked,”How much is your love worth?'” Matt piped in from the sweetheart table.)
At our post-concert dinner, Matt told me that he had balked at the ring salesman’s pressure tactics and told Melany he thought it was a waste of money to spend so much on a ring.
“But she’s been crying a lot lately, Mom,” Matt said. “I don’t know what to do.”
I could understand his quandary, panic even. McQueenys aren’t criers, and when faced with crying, we have no adequate response.
I told Matt that maybe he should do what Dad did when we were dating.
“Dad told me that if he kept dating me we would end up getting married and he didn’t want to get married, so he was breaking up with me,” I told Matt. “After about two weeks, he said,’I guess we should get back together.’ Maybe if you break up, it will reveal your true feelings.”
“But I don’t want to break up, Mom,” he said.
“Well, then, if the ring is important to Melany, man up and spend the money,” I said.
And thus, I told the wedding group, I have another beautiful daughter. I am so glad Matt manned up and we are here tonight.
Finally, it was Dad’s turn to speak. Jim is a seasoned, easy, entertaining speaker (I always say I married him for his stories), but he has one serious character flaw. And in a family where humor is a core family value, this is a serious character flaw: He tries to ride the coattails of a successful joke. So, if Matt has told a really funny joke or Mike has uttered a riposte that leaves us weak with laughter or Tom has done a dead-on imitation, Jim tries to milk the laugh they’ve generated with a lesser joke, a junior joke, a runt joke.
(This reminds of the time when Jerry Seinfeld went into the Catholic confessional box to complain to the priest that the Catholic dentist Tim Watley had converted to Judaism for the jokes. “And this offends you as a Jew?” asked the priest. “No,” said Seinfeld. “It offends me as a comedian.”)
Jim started off his speech nicely enough, saying that between Matt’s parents and Mel’s parents, we represent 65 years of married life, so they can look to our experience. Then he tried to jump on Mike’s previous laugh lines, saying that he was surprised we were here at Matt’s wedding, because Matt dated so infrequently he was a once-a-decade dater. (I thought this was a low blow, not at all nuanced the way Mike’s roast was, and so I gave Jim the “cut” sign.)
Jim said the McQueeny family avoided public displays of affection, and it took some getting used to to rise to the Felsen-Innes level of open affection. But, said Jim, “I’m taking training, Melany, so that I can hug more.”
And Melany got up and hugged Jim.
After that, it was dancing. I love to dance, and was dancing up a storm. I danced the pretzel dance with my brother-in-law Donny O. I danced around Maeve and Tom, because it’s a parent’s prerogative to embarrass her children. My children and nieces and nephews didn’t dance much. They watched us boomers make fools of ourselves.
But the most stellar dancer of the evening was the Unitarian minister. He bogeyed, twisted and slithered his way through fast and slow songs. I mentioned his prowess to Susan, and she said, “We Unitarians are a diverse bunch.”
Matt and Melany cut the cake, a beautiful five-tier cake by Ace of Cakes of Baltimore shaped like the New York skyline and emblazoned with the Yankees and Mets insignias, with fireworks in the sky and two champagne flutes for a cake topper. There were two different flavors: mint chocolate chip and apple cinnamon with butter scotch topping.
They then did the traditional feeding of the cake to each other. Matt voiced his fear that Melany was going to smash the cake into his face, the way some brides and grooms do. But she did not.
The cocktail-hour room had been transformed into a dessert palace, with a Viennese table of pastries and cookies, an ice cream bar, a chocolate fondue bar, a coffee bar, and a zeppoli station complete with paper bags so you could shake the zeppolis in a bagful of sugar.
Melany then ascended to the Juliet balcony overlooking the ballroom, and as the band sang the Beyonce song “All the Single Ladies,” she threw her bouquet. Jessica Zelizo snared it. Maeve’s friend Myrna said, “That was a set-up. There was no chance we were going to catch it.”
At some point during the festivities, Cousin Jayme—who is getting married in September -- told Melany, “Remember, you are the bride only until 1.01 am, when your wedding ends. At that point, I become the bride and you become the bridesmaid.”
Another transformation was imminent: It was almost midnight. Susan and Melany handed out the noisemakers Susan had gotten for New Year’s Eve. Melany and Matt were wearing glasses that said 2011 and Melany was adorned with a black-and-pink boa. As it hit midnight, we went around kissing family and friends. What a nice way to welcome the New Year. Photographer Joe Lin climbed to the balcony and took a photo of the crowd from on high.
Finally, it was time to wrap up. My nephew Lou Benedetto departed for the airport to head back to Arizona. Hotel-bound wedding guests were waiting in the Crystal Plaza entry for the shuttle. Grandma Betty was upset that a waiter clearing her table had inadvertently spilled a drink on her outfit.
Because Jim had his car, we were conscripted to ferry big aluminum trays of desserts the Crystal Plaza staff had packed for us. We loaded in a couple of bags containing Melany’s veil and Susan’s veil, and the poster-sized card describing the menu.
I chatted with Mike, Tom, Maeve and Monica in Mike’s room for a while. I was just getting ready for bed around 3 – Jim was already snoring --when my cell phone rang. It was Matt.
“Mom, did you take Melany’s bouquet in your car? She wants to preserve it, and she’s supposed to keep it refrigerated.”
“Matt, I frankly don’t know what’s in the car, but, if it’s in there, it IS refrigerated,, because it’s cold out.”
“Melany is worried. She doesn’t know where her bouquet is.”
And I thought, welcome to marriage, Matt. Her worries become your worries. I also empathized with Melany, who had attended to so many details to make this wedding work. This was one last detail she wanted to get right. It was keeping her from getting to sleep.
“Put Melany on the phone, Matt,” I said.
“Melany, I’ll just go down to the car and check for the bouquet,” I said.
“I don’t want to put you to any trouble, Mary,” she said.
“It’s easy,” I said.
I threw a coat over my pajamas, and put on my flat dancing shoes. Maeve came with me. I went through the contents of the car. No bouquet. We couldn’t open the door to get back into the hotel with our key card. Luckily someone was walking through the back hallway and opened the door for us.
I called them back. “The bouquet isn’t in the car,” I said. “But I can drive back to the Crystal Plaza and get it.”
“There won’t be anyone there at this point,” said Matt. “It’s pointless. We’ll get the bouquet tomorrow.”
“You sure?” I said. “It’s no trouble.”
“We’ll get it tomorrow,” Matt repeated. I prayed Melany got some sleep.
The next morning, the wedding guests still in residence at the hotel joined us at a breakfast we had arranged. When Matt and Melany entered the room in jeans and sweats, they were like royalty on the down-low. Everybody cheered. Grandma Betty told us about the inebriated men in tuxes who had knocked on her bedroom door in the middle of the night.
When the bill came, the maitre d’ gave it to my sister Libby. I guess she looks like the boss or the family matriarch. Everyone said their good-byes. My husband, brothers-in-law and children dispersed to their cars. My niece Monica went to get her babes.
I drove out of the hotel, passing my son Matt talking to his high school friend Chris Kerrigan. I went a mileor two when I got a call from my sister Margaret B. asking for a ride. I doubled back to the hotel, and picked up Margaret. Matt was still talking to Chris Kerrigan.
I put my car in gear and drove out of the wonderful wedding bubble and back into normalcy.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
The Best Man Remembers:WEDDING DAY
These are brother Mike McQueeny reminiscences of Matt and Melany's wedding day..
And then came wedding day. I awoke early, but not easily. Post rehearsal dinner the night before, some of our family and friends retreated to the hotel bar. After having a couple glasses of wine at dinner, I was more than ready to retreat back to the room. But I stayed out of a duty to my cousin.
This part of the night I’ll refer to as the Tony Squared fiasco, and the story of the most unwitting, involuntary, and most nonconsensual attempt at a love triangle this world has ever seen. Tony (a man) from Melany’s bridal party began to hit on Tony (a man) from Matt’s wedding party, who subsequently began to hit on my cousin (a girl, but married). In the Christian Bible, the sins and vices of this scenario abound; but in terms of entertainment value, you won’t find anything more amusing in either the New or Old Testament. As much as my cousin appealed to me to help her, I tried to keep a straight face, while continually peering out of the corner of my eye to see the train wreck of what would happen next. It was like a game of chicken to see who would flinch first, or more accurately, which party would first realize that no one in this triple play actually had a mutual interest in any other.
By the time I finally announced I was ready to go to sleep, my cousin grabbed my arm and gave me a look as if to say, “I will literally kill you if you leave me here with these two.” In the words of Tony from Melany’s bridal party, who uttered these words to the other Tony, “Tony spelled backwards translates to Y NOT.” But without uttering so much as a word, my cousin gave me a look that spelled out a thousand unstated reasons ‘Y’ she would ‘Not’. I walked her to her room, and finally eased into sleep around 2 or 3.
I awoke on December 31st with the slow realization that this was the day of reckoning. Though I was tired, and a tad hung-over, from the wines imbibed with my Aunts, the beers given to me by my Cousins and Uncle Benny, and to top off the night, at my Aunt Marian’s insistence, a final night cap of a snifter of Grand Marnier. As I opened my eyes and saw Matt’s phone call at 8 in the morning, I already knew this was to be a long day.
The grand question is: What to do on your wedding day? The McQueeny Uncles came prepared, with my Uncle Robert telling me the day before, that on the wedding day itself I should come hang out in their room, as Rob had come stocked with chips, dip, and “Soders.” For myself focused on giving the best man speech, and Matt focused on getting married, the day consisted of a fruitless effort to find something to keep your mind off of the one thing that has completely taken over your mind.
Matt, Tom and I went out to breakfast- a last meal of sorts. Tom got only toast, his reasoning being that he planned on going to town on all the food at Matt’s wedding. Afterwards, we went out to go bowling. The original plan was to find an indoor basketball court and play a couple games. Matt vetoed that plan, reasoning that if someone went to the rim and got hard fouled (which is a likelihood, as my motto is ‘no easy buckets’), Matt would suddenly be less likely to be walking down the aisle, so much as hobbling down the aisle. However, as we began to bowl, we soon realized that a bowling injury would be more dangerous to Matt’s matrimony than an injured ankle. We began to picture it, as Father White utters the words, “Melany, will you now place the ring on Matt’s finger,” for Matt to hold his hand up, and Melany to see Matt’s finger broken sideways from a bowling ball accident.
The day continued in imaginary time. Though events and activities got carried out in the day, they existed in a dream chronology, with everything happening, but everything happening in expedited and fast-forward motion. We were a part of the happenings, but only as casual witnesses to it, with time briskly carrying us towards the day’s eventualities.
Before we knew it, we were tux-clad, and Crystal Plaza-bound. In true wedding custom, as men, we were more like furniture in the ceremony, rather than actual participants in it, with us being hurriedly moved to the wedding hall, told where to go, and told to stay put. When an employee of the Crystal Plaza came up to us and asked if there was anything she could get for us, before the question was fully completed, Matt’s boss and groomsman JIG was already in the process of saying, “Captain and Cokes, keep ‘em coming.”
We all sat around talking: Matt, me, Tom, Tim, Andrew, JIG, Tony, and our cousin Lou from Arizona. Lou wasn’t actually in the party, but with the problems Matt had had the week before, with one of the other groomsmen backing out last minute, we brought out the extended roster. Luckily for Matt, he was blessed to have a deep bench of great friends and family ready to step up. With all the bad weather in the previous days, Lou had a hectic schedule even getting to the wedding, and an even more hectic schedule post wedding, as his flight left approximately 5 hours after the ceremony actually ended. He had been sucking back coffees and cappuccinos, and giving his all the entire time, prompting him to have an honorary spot in our wedding party, if not an actual one.
We each had a drink or two, nothing too excessive. As Father White showed up, he noticed this, and literally struck the fear of God into Matt. Father White was our high school priest at Bergen Catholic. As we’ve shifted parishes often during our church-going years, when it came time to get a priest for the ceremony, Matt couldn’t think of anyone better than a classic BC icon. As we chatted with Father White, he glimpsed down at Matt’s glass and in a serious tone said, “What are you drinking there, Coke, or Diet Coke?” Suddenly, 28-year-old Matt reverted to his 16-year-old BC mentality at the prospect of being asked whether or not he was drinking alcohol, and fearing possibly detention or suspension, Matt uttered in as low a voice as possible, “Coke, Father.”
Within minutes we’d realize that Father White was just pulling Matt’s leg, as later on, while waiting in the back room, Father White said in passing, “I tell you what, it’s great that you guys weren’t drinking, because that’s grounds for instant annulment.” JIG, the only one left with a freshly-poured Captain and Coke still in hand, pulled the glass from his lips and said, “What’d I tell you guys, you booze you lose. You guys never listen to me.”
I think half the fun of the wedding day, was the 40 minutes the groomsmen were kept in the back room, with endless jokes thickening the air. My own joke, on roughly a 10-minute repeat, was clutching my pocket and asking if I accidentally gave the ring to someone else. We all joked with Matt, we all joked with one another, and even at one point a Unitarian joke was cracked by a Catholic Priest, and in return a Unitarian Minister gave a Catholic priest joke. Something with a punchline like: “And then Raquel Welch goes, ‘Those aren’t buoys.’ ” Kidding, obviously. We all gave Matt our final offer as groomsmen, letting him know that the cars were gassed up, and that we could get him to Mexico before anyone knew what happened.
Then the doors opened.
Walking out into the ceremony was the most surreal sight I’d ever seen. Only 40 minutes before, the room was vacant, other than the groomsmen and the ministers. As we walked our way out, we looked out into a packed crowd of family and friends. You stand there in the front of the room and see nothing but your cousins, uncles, aunts, friends, coworkers, etc. No one is saying anything, but everyone is just staring up at you, smiling, and waving. It was eerie in the sense that this is exactly what people describe dying as like. I suddenly thought to myself, is dying like dreaming, can I pinch myself to see if I’m actually deceased.
You look out to see your cousins all snapping pictures of you. Your coworkers all waving. Your aunts blowing you kisses and sending smiles. And from the second row, there was my Uncle Robert, yelling out the marital advice that he had been giving since Matt’s engagement…
“DON’T DO IT!”
Then, like a late-night tv talk show, the band began playing, and the show began. In came the parents, grandparents, and bridal party. As Melany entered, a magnificence entered the room. A collective quieting breath overtook the crowd at the sight of such a beautiful bride. As she walked down the aisle, Uncle Robert made a last great attempt to impart his advice to Matt, but this time, it changed…
“DO IT! MY WIFE DIDN’T LOOK THAT GOOD ON OUR WEDDING DAY!”
And Melany did look spectacular. Her dress highlighted her natural beauty, even causing my brother Matt, normally even-keeled, to choke up as she walked down the aisle. The ceremony went on, and we all waited patiently watching like fans of a team now in the lead, waiting anxiously for the final seconds of the ceremony to wind down, and watch our brother get his ultimate win- Melany.
“You may now kiss the bride,” and as their lips met, Matt reflected that very same imagery, and with the charisma of a champion who knows just how lucky he is, he resiliently threw his fist up into the air. (Just quickly to debunk any and all stereotypes, and for the record, despite us being from New Jersey, this was not a Jersey Shore fist pump.)
The family was rushed downstairs, and the never-ending streams of picture-taking began. Suddenly, I had flashbacks from high school proms, where pictures from every angle, with every lineup, with every variation had to be taken, lest we not capture this wedding day from every facet possible. Brothers and bride, cousins and bride, parents, siblings of parents, cousins of parents, uncles and bride, aunts and bride, aunts and uncles, etc. By the time the request was made for Crystal Plaza staff and bride, we knew the photographer had lost his mind.
Just as our cheeks had numbed from excessive smiling, we were released to our own recognizance, but only for a short time. By the time we had tasted our first appetizers, and sipped our first drinks, everyone was thrust into the main hall, and the wedding parties were organized for their entrance.
Realizing we were getting even closer to the speeches, my nerves increased, realizing that the moment of reckoning was upon us. As the wedding party was being introduced, two by two, I ran over to the martini bar as quickly as possible. The bar was made of ice, and on it there were a number of flavored drinks sitting there. I ran up, grabbed one, and slammed it back in a frat-boy demeanor. The bartender looked at me. “Sir,” he said. I looked back at him. “Thanks, barkeep, one’s all I needed,” I said. “No, sir, those are non-alcoholic drinks,” He said. Suddenly from behind me I could hear the roaring laughter, as what was initially my moment of bad-assery turned into a moment of hilarity. For the time being, I hoped the sugar would temper my nerves as much as I had hoped the alcohol would.
Matt and Mel had their first dance, and after a brief period of dancing, Pastor Steve gave his invocation. I was approached and told that I’d be going first, after the Pastor. I waited wide-eyed, heart pumping, and when the Pastor finished, and I was motioned to approach, I ran up to grab the mic like Rudy being motioned in on special teams, my body filled with excitement and nerves.
Everyone was still chatting softly amongst themselves, so I began to tap on the microphone and felt the compelling urge to yell in an angry teacher’s tone, “No, I’ll wait for when you guys are ready.”
“My family is very proud of Matt today… for this is the longest he’s gone without his iphone. A large part of me does not believe that Matt went the entire ceremony without checking his iphone.
Something tells me that if you go onto his Facebook, he will have checked in on four square midway through the ceremony. Something also tells me that there would be about 20 varied likes and comments from others in the Winning Strategies community also checking the internet during the ceremony, specifically Akshay and Adam Dvorin.”
The funny part about the Akshay and Adam Dvorin comment was that I wrote them into the speech December 29th. When Matt, Tom and I had gone out to breakfast the morning of the wedding on December 31st, Matt, as if confirming the joke, had checked in on four square at the diner where we were eating. Sure enough, that diner Facebook posting did in fact get ‘liked’ by both Adam and Akshay. I knew that morning, that the comment in the speech was altogether too fitting.
“Matt’s a great guy, and my whole family is so proud of him getting married to such a wonderful, smart, and beautiful woman as Melany… And an equally large portion of our family is shocked that Matt was able to get such a wonderful, smart, and beautiful woman as Melany. No offense to Matt, but he was never exactly the type to get a lot of girls, let alone a girl like Melany. .
Let’s face it, a crazy night for Matt in college was coming home on the weekends and Mom getting him two pizzas instead of one….. The only other serious relationship Matt has been in was with his Kindle…. The only difficult breakup he ever went through was when Mike and the Mad Dog split up, which was tough on him to say the least…
All jokes aside, Matt could not have picked a better person to bring into our family. Melany is always the first person there on holidays with gifts, the first person there on special occasions with congratulations.
But the fact is, the McQueenys don’t take much to impress. The truth is, we loved Melany from day one, and she never had to do anything to prove herself to us. But she nevertheless is always there and able to shock us with her level of care and compassion for our family.
Last year, when my mother was sick with Trigeminal Neuralgia, she was in gruesome pain. But my mom, being the type of person she is, prioritized everyone else above her own well-being. And it finally took Melany sitting my mom down, and it took Melany telling her that she was getting this surgery, and it took Melany making the phone calls and making the appointments that finally freed my mom from that awful disease.
Matt was quick to point out that I did get a little choked up talking about my Mom’s surgery. Like trying to squeeze water from a stone, we’re not much for crying, but for us, when we choke up like that while talking, that is our equivalent to bawling our eyes out.
Typically, McQueeny emotions have not evolved much from the prehistoric caveman days. Our emotions are more the way Jack Donaghy in the television comedy “30 Rock” described it, “As men, we get one pass to cry in our lives, so make sure it’s worth it.” Matt was quick to note that the same thing happened to him when he asked Melany’s mom for Melany’s hand in marriage. Though we try to fight it back, certain words or phrases attack the larynx and overcome our defenses. Mom’s well-being is like an emotional atomic bomb, it’s the super weapon that even we can’t stop.
All in all though, I’d say it was a successful man cry.
"Melany didn’t have to do anything to impress us, but as a result of her help to my mom, she got a lifetime of credit in my book.
And Melany, I know sometimes it can be difficult interacting with the McQueenys. Though we may be slightly different from the Felsens, and though there may be certain things we don’t say, or things we express differently….
Please know that we do and always will love you, and that we are, and will always be, happy that you’ve joined our family.
To Matt and Melany”
I hugged Matt and Mel, and quickly sat down, whilst casually trying to guzzle the glass of champagne poured to be sipped throughout the entirety of the speeches. My still-pounding heart decided it prudent to skip this convention in order to calm the nerves.
And then came wedding day. I awoke early, but not easily. Post rehearsal dinner the night before, some of our family and friends retreated to the hotel bar. After having a couple glasses of wine at dinner, I was more than ready to retreat back to the room. But I stayed out of a duty to my cousin.
This part of the night I’ll refer to as the Tony Squared fiasco, and the story of the most unwitting, involuntary, and most nonconsensual attempt at a love triangle this world has ever seen. Tony (a man) from Melany’s bridal party began to hit on Tony (a man) from Matt’s wedding party, who subsequently began to hit on my cousin (a girl, but married). In the Christian Bible, the sins and vices of this scenario abound; but in terms of entertainment value, you won’t find anything more amusing in either the New or Old Testament. As much as my cousin appealed to me to help her, I tried to keep a straight face, while continually peering out of the corner of my eye to see the train wreck of what would happen next. It was like a game of chicken to see who would flinch first, or more accurately, which party would first realize that no one in this triple play actually had a mutual interest in any other.
By the time I finally announced I was ready to go to sleep, my cousin grabbed my arm and gave me a look as if to say, “I will literally kill you if you leave me here with these two.” In the words of Tony from Melany’s bridal party, who uttered these words to the other Tony, “Tony spelled backwards translates to Y NOT.” But without uttering so much as a word, my cousin gave me a look that spelled out a thousand unstated reasons ‘Y’ she would ‘Not’. I walked her to her room, and finally eased into sleep around 2 or 3.
I awoke on December 31st with the slow realization that this was the day of reckoning. Though I was tired, and a tad hung-over, from the wines imbibed with my Aunts, the beers given to me by my Cousins and Uncle Benny, and to top off the night, at my Aunt Marian’s insistence, a final night cap of a snifter of Grand Marnier. As I opened my eyes and saw Matt’s phone call at 8 in the morning, I already knew this was to be a long day.
The grand question is: What to do on your wedding day? The McQueeny Uncles came prepared, with my Uncle Robert telling me the day before, that on the wedding day itself I should come hang out in their room, as Rob had come stocked with chips, dip, and “Soders.” For myself focused on giving the best man speech, and Matt focused on getting married, the day consisted of a fruitless effort to find something to keep your mind off of the one thing that has completely taken over your mind.
Matt, Tom and I went out to breakfast- a last meal of sorts. Tom got only toast, his reasoning being that he planned on going to town on all the food at Matt’s wedding. Afterwards, we went out to go bowling. The original plan was to find an indoor basketball court and play a couple games. Matt vetoed that plan, reasoning that if someone went to the rim and got hard fouled (which is a likelihood, as my motto is ‘no easy buckets’), Matt would suddenly be less likely to be walking down the aisle, so much as hobbling down the aisle. However, as we began to bowl, we soon realized that a bowling injury would be more dangerous to Matt’s matrimony than an injured ankle. We began to picture it, as Father White utters the words, “Melany, will you now place the ring on Matt’s finger,” for Matt to hold his hand up, and Melany to see Matt’s finger broken sideways from a bowling ball accident.
The day continued in imaginary time. Though events and activities got carried out in the day, they existed in a dream chronology, with everything happening, but everything happening in expedited and fast-forward motion. We were a part of the happenings, but only as casual witnesses to it, with time briskly carrying us towards the day’s eventualities.
Before we knew it, we were tux-clad, and Crystal Plaza-bound. In true wedding custom, as men, we were more like furniture in the ceremony, rather than actual participants in it, with us being hurriedly moved to the wedding hall, told where to go, and told to stay put. When an employee of the Crystal Plaza came up to us and asked if there was anything she could get for us, before the question was fully completed, Matt’s boss and groomsman JIG was already in the process of saying, “Captain and Cokes, keep ‘em coming.”
We all sat around talking: Matt, me, Tom, Tim, Andrew, JIG, Tony, and our cousin Lou from Arizona. Lou wasn’t actually in the party, but with the problems Matt had had the week before, with one of the other groomsmen backing out last minute, we brought out the extended roster. Luckily for Matt, he was blessed to have a deep bench of great friends and family ready to step up. With all the bad weather in the previous days, Lou had a hectic schedule even getting to the wedding, and an even more hectic schedule post wedding, as his flight left approximately 5 hours after the ceremony actually ended. He had been sucking back coffees and cappuccinos, and giving his all the entire time, prompting him to have an honorary spot in our wedding party, if not an actual one.
We each had a drink or two, nothing too excessive. As Father White showed up, he noticed this, and literally struck the fear of God into Matt. Father White was our high school priest at Bergen Catholic. As we’ve shifted parishes often during our church-going years, when it came time to get a priest for the ceremony, Matt couldn’t think of anyone better than a classic BC icon. As we chatted with Father White, he glimpsed down at Matt’s glass and in a serious tone said, “What are you drinking there, Coke, or Diet Coke?” Suddenly, 28-year-old Matt reverted to his 16-year-old BC mentality at the prospect of being asked whether or not he was drinking alcohol, and fearing possibly detention or suspension, Matt uttered in as low a voice as possible, “Coke, Father.”
Within minutes we’d realize that Father White was just pulling Matt’s leg, as later on, while waiting in the back room, Father White said in passing, “I tell you what, it’s great that you guys weren’t drinking, because that’s grounds for instant annulment.” JIG, the only one left with a freshly-poured Captain and Coke still in hand, pulled the glass from his lips and said, “What’d I tell you guys, you booze you lose. You guys never listen to me.”
I think half the fun of the wedding day, was the 40 minutes the groomsmen were kept in the back room, with endless jokes thickening the air. My own joke, on roughly a 10-minute repeat, was clutching my pocket and asking if I accidentally gave the ring to someone else. We all joked with Matt, we all joked with one another, and even at one point a Unitarian joke was cracked by a Catholic Priest, and in return a Unitarian Minister gave a Catholic priest joke. Something with a punchline like: “And then Raquel Welch goes, ‘Those aren’t buoys.’ ” Kidding, obviously. We all gave Matt our final offer as groomsmen, letting him know that the cars were gassed up, and that we could get him to Mexico before anyone knew what happened.
Then the doors opened.
Walking out into the ceremony was the most surreal sight I’d ever seen. Only 40 minutes before, the room was vacant, other than the groomsmen and the ministers. As we walked our way out, we looked out into a packed crowd of family and friends. You stand there in the front of the room and see nothing but your cousins, uncles, aunts, friends, coworkers, etc. No one is saying anything, but everyone is just staring up at you, smiling, and waving. It was eerie in the sense that this is exactly what people describe dying as like. I suddenly thought to myself, is dying like dreaming, can I pinch myself to see if I’m actually deceased.
You look out to see your cousins all snapping pictures of you. Your coworkers all waving. Your aunts blowing you kisses and sending smiles. And from the second row, there was my Uncle Robert, yelling out the marital advice that he had been giving since Matt’s engagement…
“DON’T DO IT!”
Then, like a late-night tv talk show, the band began playing, and the show began. In came the parents, grandparents, and bridal party. As Melany entered, a magnificence entered the room. A collective quieting breath overtook the crowd at the sight of such a beautiful bride. As she walked down the aisle, Uncle Robert made a last great attempt to impart his advice to Matt, but this time, it changed…
“DO IT! MY WIFE DIDN’T LOOK THAT GOOD ON OUR WEDDING DAY!”
And Melany did look spectacular. Her dress highlighted her natural beauty, even causing my brother Matt, normally even-keeled, to choke up as she walked down the aisle. The ceremony went on, and we all waited patiently watching like fans of a team now in the lead, waiting anxiously for the final seconds of the ceremony to wind down, and watch our brother get his ultimate win- Melany.
“You may now kiss the bride,” and as their lips met, Matt reflected that very same imagery, and with the charisma of a champion who knows just how lucky he is, he resiliently threw his fist up into the air. (Just quickly to debunk any and all stereotypes, and for the record, despite us being from New Jersey, this was not a Jersey Shore fist pump.)
The family was rushed downstairs, and the never-ending streams of picture-taking began. Suddenly, I had flashbacks from high school proms, where pictures from every angle, with every lineup, with every variation had to be taken, lest we not capture this wedding day from every facet possible. Brothers and bride, cousins and bride, parents, siblings of parents, cousins of parents, uncles and bride, aunts and bride, aunts and uncles, etc. By the time the request was made for Crystal Plaza staff and bride, we knew the photographer had lost his mind.
Just as our cheeks had numbed from excessive smiling, we were released to our own recognizance, but only for a short time. By the time we had tasted our first appetizers, and sipped our first drinks, everyone was thrust into the main hall, and the wedding parties were organized for their entrance.
Realizing we were getting even closer to the speeches, my nerves increased, realizing that the moment of reckoning was upon us. As the wedding party was being introduced, two by two, I ran over to the martini bar as quickly as possible. The bar was made of ice, and on it there were a number of flavored drinks sitting there. I ran up, grabbed one, and slammed it back in a frat-boy demeanor. The bartender looked at me. “Sir,” he said. I looked back at him. “Thanks, barkeep, one’s all I needed,” I said. “No, sir, those are non-alcoholic drinks,” He said. Suddenly from behind me I could hear the roaring laughter, as what was initially my moment of bad-assery turned into a moment of hilarity. For the time being, I hoped the sugar would temper my nerves as much as I had hoped the alcohol would.
Matt and Mel had their first dance, and after a brief period of dancing, Pastor Steve gave his invocation. I was approached and told that I’d be going first, after the Pastor. I waited wide-eyed, heart pumping, and when the Pastor finished, and I was motioned to approach, I ran up to grab the mic like Rudy being motioned in on special teams, my body filled with excitement and nerves.
Everyone was still chatting softly amongst themselves, so I began to tap on the microphone and felt the compelling urge to yell in an angry teacher’s tone, “No, I’ll wait for when you guys are ready.”
“My family is very proud of Matt today… for this is the longest he’s gone without his iphone. A large part of me does not believe that Matt went the entire ceremony without checking his iphone.
Something tells me that if you go onto his Facebook, he will have checked in on four square midway through the ceremony. Something also tells me that there would be about 20 varied likes and comments from others in the Winning Strategies community also checking the internet during the ceremony, specifically Akshay and Adam Dvorin.”
The funny part about the Akshay and Adam Dvorin comment was that I wrote them into the speech December 29th. When Matt, Tom and I had gone out to breakfast the morning of the wedding on December 31st, Matt, as if confirming the joke, had checked in on four square at the diner where we were eating. Sure enough, that diner Facebook posting did in fact get ‘liked’ by both Adam and Akshay. I knew that morning, that the comment in the speech was altogether too fitting.
“Matt’s a great guy, and my whole family is so proud of him getting married to such a wonderful, smart, and beautiful woman as Melany… And an equally large portion of our family is shocked that Matt was able to get such a wonderful, smart, and beautiful woman as Melany. No offense to Matt, but he was never exactly the type to get a lot of girls, let alone a girl like Melany. .
Let’s face it, a crazy night for Matt in college was coming home on the weekends and Mom getting him two pizzas instead of one….. The only other serious relationship Matt has been in was with his Kindle…. The only difficult breakup he ever went through was when Mike and the Mad Dog split up, which was tough on him to say the least…
All jokes aside, Matt could not have picked a better person to bring into our family. Melany is always the first person there on holidays with gifts, the first person there on special occasions with congratulations.
But the fact is, the McQueenys don’t take much to impress. The truth is, we loved Melany from day one, and she never had to do anything to prove herself to us. But she nevertheless is always there and able to shock us with her level of care and compassion for our family.
Last year, when my mother was sick with Trigeminal Neuralgia, she was in gruesome pain. But my mom, being the type of person she is, prioritized everyone else above her own well-being. And it finally took Melany sitting my mom down, and it took Melany telling her that she was getting this surgery, and it took Melany making the phone calls and making the appointments that finally freed my mom from that awful disease.
Matt was quick to point out that I did get a little choked up talking about my Mom’s surgery. Like trying to squeeze water from a stone, we’re not much for crying, but for us, when we choke up like that while talking, that is our equivalent to bawling our eyes out.
Typically, McQueeny emotions have not evolved much from the prehistoric caveman days. Our emotions are more the way Jack Donaghy in the television comedy “30 Rock” described it, “As men, we get one pass to cry in our lives, so make sure it’s worth it.” Matt was quick to note that the same thing happened to him when he asked Melany’s mom for Melany’s hand in marriage. Though we try to fight it back, certain words or phrases attack the larynx and overcome our defenses. Mom’s well-being is like an emotional atomic bomb, it’s the super weapon that even we can’t stop.
All in all though, I’d say it was a successful man cry.
"Melany didn’t have to do anything to impress us, but as a result of her help to my mom, she got a lifetime of credit in my book.
And Melany, I know sometimes it can be difficult interacting with the McQueenys. Though we may be slightly different from the Felsens, and though there may be certain things we don’t say, or things we express differently….
Please know that we do and always will love you, and that we are, and will always be, happy that you’ve joined our family.
To Matt and Melany”
I hugged Matt and Mel, and quickly sat down, whilst casually trying to guzzle the glass of champagne poured to be sipped throughout the entirety of the speeches. My still-pounding heart decided it prudent to skip this convention in order to calm the nerves.
Matt and Melany's Wedding: Part 4
The Crystal Plaza in Livingston, NJ, 7:30 pm, Dec 31, 2011: Melany, her bridal party, her mom, aunt and grandmother and her soon-to-be in-laws (Jim and I) stood outside the doors to the room where her groom, his attendants, the Unitarian minister and Catholic priest officiants and more than 150 friends and family waited.
The chamber music group began the strains of “Piano Concerto No.2 Adagio Sostenuto” by Sergei Rachmaninoff. The event coordinator–Crystal Plaza staffer Nella –opened the doors, and Grandma Betty in a champagne-colored extravaganza and Aunt Jayme in a strapless copper-colored gown with a lavishly-beaded bodice floated in.
Jim and I were next down the aisle and I was so touched to see my “bios”—my half-siblings, children of my birth-mother—in the audience. The wedding was a bringing together of families in so many ways.
One by one Melany’s bridal party followed: Melany’s cousin Jay-Jay, Matt’s sister Maeve, Jen F. from Rochester, Tony R from Baltimore, maid of honor Jess Zelizo, matron of honor Celeste Zazzali.
Then the music shifted, like a current of air, to “Claire de Lune” by Claude DeBussy. The stunningly beautiful Melany walked down the aisle, arm in arm with her mother Susan in a glowing blue gown. (One of my sisters had said to Susan, “So you’re giving Melany away?” And Susan had replied, “I am NOT giving her away. I am walking her down the aisle, but I am NOT giving her away.”)
Melany and Susan kissed. Matt came down from the stage, kissed his mother-in-law and walked with Melany back onto the stage.
I tend to get "verklempt" (teary-eyed, choked-up) at weddings anyway, and here was my beloved son and Melany, about whom I have a mother's pride, although I had no role in her upbringing.
There were two co-celebrants of the wedding: Unitarian minister Reverend Charles Stephens, and Roman Catholic priest Father Jim White. Father White had been Matt’s priest at his high school, Bergen Catholic. The Unitarian connection brought memories of a moment when my husband Jim, father of the groom, had put his foot in his mouth.
We were driving down a highway in Wilmington, Delaware, a year ago, visiting our number two son Mike at his first-year law school, Widener. We passed a Unitarian church, and Jim said, “That’s a silly, frou-frou religion. What do they believe in?”
And, from the back of the car, Matt—sitting next to Melany-- said, “Well, that’s Melany’s religion, so you better watch what you say, Dad.”
“Yeah, Jim,” said Melany in a voice heavy with sarcasm. She had initially been wary of razzing Jim: When she came to her first family dinner with us at Easter, she was appalled at how Dad was the constant butt of jokes. But as she spent more time around our family, she got more comfortable with this central McQueeny ritual and began to understand why Jim was such an easy target.
In his wedding homily, the Unitarian minister, Reverend Stephens, talked about how getting married doesn’t mean you are fully married once you say your vows. You are “fractionally” married, he said. It could take 40 to 50 years to be fully married, he said.
I thought of the line from Khalil Gibran, “Let there be spaces in your togetherness.” And I thought Jim and I were probably “more” married when the kids were little and the sheer terror of wrangling small human beings required close partnership, a daily synchronized swimming.
And I thought of friends and family on their second --or third -- marriages: Were the second marriages better than the first? And I thought of at least one young relative in a “dead” marriage, a shell marriage, and I thought of the sadness and the riskiness in that. (And, of course, the thought that maybe it could resurrect itself in the future.) I thought of another relative who says he stays with his spouse because he doesn’t want to have to split his pension.
I have friends who say they love being married. And I know of others – I just heard thrice-married actress Lorraine Bracco say this – who swear they would never again involve themselves in such a potential quagmire of an institution.
(I think it was someone from the Crystal Plaza who boasted to us that the place did such a fantastic job with weddings that people came back for their second and third weddings. He didn’t see the irony at all.)
I am impressed both by the earnestness and the capacity for risk of those speaking their marriage vows. And I know how happy my son has been since he and Melany got engaged.
There they stood, having worked so hard and done so much preparation to get to this point.
And I thought of the baby who was born a little early and a little small (5 pounds 12 ounces) and had jaundice his first week of life. The toddler who loved his stuffed animals Teddy-Eddy and Dewie Dog. (He once was singing the Springsteen song “Born in the USA” when he was supposed to be napping on his mat in preschool and when the teacher said, “Why are you singing? ” he replied:”I’m not singing. It’s Teddy-Eddy.”) The kid who was always getting into trouble early in elementary school –all the teachers knew him because he was almost always being punished for some infraction and had to spend his post-lunch playtime sitting with the teachers during their lunch. But he never seemed like trouble to us. The southpaw pitcher who gave his dad visions of a minor-league career and then gave up playing entirely. The adolescent who loved music, had me drive him to guitar lessons at Robbie’s Music, joined bands like the Mix-Ups, Beyond the Bridge, and Mission Failed (that one with his friend Andrew Firkins). He expected to become a rock star and tour with his band around the country. He and his younger brother Mike were “Straight-Edge”---a combination of love of punk rock, along with vegetarianism, no smoking, no drinking, and no wearing of animal products like leather. Matt didn’t even want to eat Jello because gelatin is made by boiling the hides and bones of cows and pigs.
I thought of the high school senior who had to endure his baby brother and sister with him on his college tours. The NYU student who came home every weekend. (He had me pick him up every Thursday from his apartment in Hoboken and we’d go out to dinner before I brought him back to Mahwah.) The young office worker who told me I could expect him to remain living at home until he was 28 or 30. We called him a “mammoni” after those young Italian men profiled on the show “60 Minutes” who might have their own condos but who came home every night for Mama’s cooking and clean laundry. The computer-savvy guy who could also write who went to work for the NJ Nets for a while. The guy whose sense of humor revealed itself in puns and who really enjoyed his grandmother in her dementia. “Mom,” he said to me at age 20, “ If we didn’t have Nanny and the dog, this family would have nothing to talk about.”
All in all, we enjoyed his childhood, adolescence and young adulthood. We enjoyed his companionship and his part in the family dynamic. We enjoyed his intelligence and tolerated his puns And, if we were giving him away, it was with a sense of surprise that he was leaving at all, and that he had stepped away long enough to find such a remarkable partner.
And I know that Susan, on her side of the aisle, was thinking about Melany the baby, Melany the elementary-schooler, Melany the teen-ager, Melany the graduate student, Melany the teacher.
Susan and I came up to the stage to light the two tapers that represent our two families. Grandma Betty and Jim did their readings. And then Matt and Mel said their vows.
Matt’s voice was strong and even.
I, Matthew, take you, Melany, to be my wife, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my hand, my heart, my friendship and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.
Melany had been dabbing her eyes with a tissue during the ceremony and passing the tissues to her matron of honor Celeste. There was a great deal of emotion in her voice as she spoke her vows.
I, Melany, take you, Matthew, to be my husband, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my hand, my heart, my friendship and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.
Father Jim White offered a blessing as Matthew and Melany exchanged rings.
The chamber group played the Irish Wedding Song. (Ironically, Jim’s first cousins from Ireland were unable to come to America for the wedding because one of their children –Tomas—was getting married that very New Year’s Eve.)
THE IRISH WEDDING SONG
(words and music by Ian Betteridge)
Here they stand, hand in hand, they've exchanged wedding bands
Today is the day of all their dreams and their plans
And all of their loved ones are here to say
God bless this couple who marry today
Chorus
In good times and bad times, in sickness and in health
May they know that riches are not needed for wealth
And help them face problems they'll meet on their way
Oh God bless this couple who marry today.
May they find peace of mind comes to all who are kind
May the rough times ahead become triumphs in time
May their children be happy each day
Oh God bless this family who started today
Chorus
As they go, may they know every love that was shown
And as life it gets shorter, may their feelings grow
Wherever they travel, wherever they stay
May God bless this couple who marry today
Matt and Melany then lit the Unity Candle that Susan had so graciously gotten for them, using the two tapers we had lit previously.
Reverend Stephens pronounced them married. Matthew fist-pumped the air while he and Melany kissed.
And they recessed down the aisle to the Black-Eyed Peas song, “I Gotta Feeling.”
I gotta feeling that tonight’s gonna be a good night
That tonight’s gonna be a good night
That tonight’s gonna be a good, good night
The chamber music group began the strains of “Piano Concerto No.2 Adagio Sostenuto” by Sergei Rachmaninoff. The event coordinator–Crystal Plaza staffer Nella –opened the doors, and Grandma Betty in a champagne-colored extravaganza and Aunt Jayme in a strapless copper-colored gown with a lavishly-beaded bodice floated in.
Jim and I were next down the aisle and I was so touched to see my “bios”—my half-siblings, children of my birth-mother—in the audience. The wedding was a bringing together of families in so many ways.
One by one Melany’s bridal party followed: Melany’s cousin Jay-Jay, Matt’s sister Maeve, Jen F. from Rochester, Tony R from Baltimore, maid of honor Jess Zelizo, matron of honor Celeste Zazzali.
Then the music shifted, like a current of air, to “Claire de Lune” by Claude DeBussy. The stunningly beautiful Melany walked down the aisle, arm in arm with her mother Susan in a glowing blue gown. (One of my sisters had said to Susan, “So you’re giving Melany away?” And Susan had replied, “I am NOT giving her away. I am walking her down the aisle, but I am NOT giving her away.”)
Melany and Susan kissed. Matt came down from the stage, kissed his mother-in-law and walked with Melany back onto the stage.
I tend to get "verklempt" (teary-eyed, choked-up) at weddings anyway, and here was my beloved son and Melany, about whom I have a mother's pride, although I had no role in her upbringing.
There were two co-celebrants of the wedding: Unitarian minister Reverend Charles Stephens, and Roman Catholic priest Father Jim White. Father White had been Matt’s priest at his high school, Bergen Catholic. The Unitarian connection brought memories of a moment when my husband Jim, father of the groom, had put his foot in his mouth.
We were driving down a highway in Wilmington, Delaware, a year ago, visiting our number two son Mike at his first-year law school, Widener. We passed a Unitarian church, and Jim said, “That’s a silly, frou-frou religion. What do they believe in?”
And, from the back of the car, Matt—sitting next to Melany-- said, “Well, that’s Melany’s religion, so you better watch what you say, Dad.”
“Yeah, Jim,” said Melany in a voice heavy with sarcasm. She had initially been wary of razzing Jim: When she came to her first family dinner with us at Easter, she was appalled at how Dad was the constant butt of jokes. But as she spent more time around our family, she got more comfortable with this central McQueeny ritual and began to understand why Jim was such an easy target.
In his wedding homily, the Unitarian minister, Reverend Stephens, talked about how getting married doesn’t mean you are fully married once you say your vows. You are “fractionally” married, he said. It could take 40 to 50 years to be fully married, he said.
I thought of the line from Khalil Gibran, “Let there be spaces in your togetherness.” And I thought Jim and I were probably “more” married when the kids were little and the sheer terror of wrangling small human beings required close partnership, a daily synchronized swimming.
And I thought of friends and family on their second --or third -- marriages: Were the second marriages better than the first? And I thought of at least one young relative in a “dead” marriage, a shell marriage, and I thought of the sadness and the riskiness in that. (And, of course, the thought that maybe it could resurrect itself in the future.) I thought of another relative who says he stays with his spouse because he doesn’t want to have to split his pension.
I have friends who say they love being married. And I know of others – I just heard thrice-married actress Lorraine Bracco say this – who swear they would never again involve themselves in such a potential quagmire of an institution.
(I think it was someone from the Crystal Plaza who boasted to us that the place did such a fantastic job with weddings that people came back for their second and third weddings. He didn’t see the irony at all.)
I am impressed both by the earnestness and the capacity for risk of those speaking their marriage vows. And I know how happy my son has been since he and Melany got engaged.
There they stood, having worked so hard and done so much preparation to get to this point.
And I thought of the baby who was born a little early and a little small (5 pounds 12 ounces) and had jaundice his first week of life. The toddler who loved his stuffed animals Teddy-Eddy and Dewie Dog. (He once was singing the Springsteen song “Born in the USA” when he was supposed to be napping on his mat in preschool and when the teacher said, “Why are you singing? ” he replied:”I’m not singing. It’s Teddy-Eddy.”) The kid who was always getting into trouble early in elementary school –all the teachers knew him because he was almost always being punished for some infraction and had to spend his post-lunch playtime sitting with the teachers during their lunch. But he never seemed like trouble to us. The southpaw pitcher who gave his dad visions of a minor-league career and then gave up playing entirely. The adolescent who loved music, had me drive him to guitar lessons at Robbie’s Music, joined bands like the Mix-Ups, Beyond the Bridge, and Mission Failed (that one with his friend Andrew Firkins). He expected to become a rock star and tour with his band around the country. He and his younger brother Mike were “Straight-Edge”---a combination of love of punk rock, along with vegetarianism, no smoking, no drinking, and no wearing of animal products like leather. Matt didn’t even want to eat Jello because gelatin is made by boiling the hides and bones of cows and pigs.
I thought of the high school senior who had to endure his baby brother and sister with him on his college tours. The NYU student who came home every weekend. (He had me pick him up every Thursday from his apartment in Hoboken and we’d go out to dinner before I brought him back to Mahwah.) The young office worker who told me I could expect him to remain living at home until he was 28 or 30. We called him a “mammoni” after those young Italian men profiled on the show “60 Minutes” who might have their own condos but who came home every night for Mama’s cooking and clean laundry. The computer-savvy guy who could also write who went to work for the NJ Nets for a while. The guy whose sense of humor revealed itself in puns and who really enjoyed his grandmother in her dementia. “Mom,” he said to me at age 20, “ If we didn’t have Nanny and the dog, this family would have nothing to talk about.”
All in all, we enjoyed his childhood, adolescence and young adulthood. We enjoyed his companionship and his part in the family dynamic. We enjoyed his intelligence and tolerated his puns And, if we were giving him away, it was with a sense of surprise that he was leaving at all, and that he had stepped away long enough to find such a remarkable partner.
And I know that Susan, on her side of the aisle, was thinking about Melany the baby, Melany the elementary-schooler, Melany the teen-ager, Melany the graduate student, Melany the teacher.
Susan and I came up to the stage to light the two tapers that represent our two families. Grandma Betty and Jim did their readings. And then Matt and Mel said their vows.
Matt’s voice was strong and even.
I, Matthew, take you, Melany, to be my wife, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my hand, my heart, my friendship and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.
Melany had been dabbing her eyes with a tissue during the ceremony and passing the tissues to her matron of honor Celeste. There was a great deal of emotion in her voice as she spoke her vows.
I, Melany, take you, Matthew, to be my husband, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my hand, my heart, my friendship and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.
Father Jim White offered a blessing as Matthew and Melany exchanged rings.
The chamber group played the Irish Wedding Song. (Ironically, Jim’s first cousins from Ireland were unable to come to America for the wedding because one of their children –Tomas—was getting married that very New Year’s Eve.)
THE IRISH WEDDING SONG
(words and music by Ian Betteridge)
Here they stand, hand in hand, they've exchanged wedding bands
Today is the day of all their dreams and their plans
And all of their loved ones are here to say
God bless this couple who marry today
Chorus
In good times and bad times, in sickness and in health
May they know that riches are not needed for wealth
And help them face problems they'll meet on their way
Oh God bless this couple who marry today.
May they find peace of mind comes to all who are kind
May the rough times ahead become triumphs in time
May their children be happy each day
Oh God bless this family who started today
Chorus
As they go, may they know every love that was shown
And as life it gets shorter, may their feelings grow
Wherever they travel, wherever they stay
May God bless this couple who marry today
Matt and Melany then lit the Unity Candle that Susan had so graciously gotten for them, using the two tapers we had lit previously.
Reverend Stephens pronounced them married. Matthew fist-pumped the air while he and Melany kissed.
And they recessed down the aisle to the Black-Eyed Peas song, “I Gotta Feeling.”
I gotta feeling that tonight’s gonna be a good night
That tonight’s gonna be a good night
That tonight’s gonna be a good, good night
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