Today, I took a trip that was only a few hours long, but it felt like I travelled a million miles.
Will is fairly stable, and gaining some weight (yeah!), so the wife and I decided that I needed to represent at The Wedding of The Century. I mean, really, how could we not take part in the long awaited nuptials between Jackie and Pete? The wedding to end all weddings!
So the dear Diana came by to help with Ella, and Paul cheerfully chauffered me up to Pennsylvania. Where we took in one of the greatest events that has ever brightened the eye of man. I mean, wow. What can you say to describe a celebration that featured a dozen musicians, two languages, two giant video screens, ten attendants, professional production, four fourteen-inch subwoofers, handmade paper, digital thunder, and an Egyptian tabla? No one has ever before, nor will they evermore, be married with such aplomb. I mean, crusty old men who have never spoken a kind word in their miserable lives were saying, “now that’s a wedding! I loved it!!”
And I know that weddings are about the church, and about God. Or, at the very least, they are about the bride and groom. But can I tell you what it would have been like if it were all about me? I had someone pick me up in a nice car, drive me several hours, buy me lunch, and rush me to the venue just before showtime. Then, several people briefed me before I was allowed to change my clothes, during which time several people told me how ‘great’ I looked. After which I was given a microphone that had already been checked while I received several increasingly specific briefings and some notes. I did my thing, and at the end, found myself staring at a standing ovation while a world-class band was playing ‘Beautiful Day’ behind me.
That’s me, rock star for a day.