Kathy's Wedding

Kathy’s Wedding

Philadelphia PA

September 1979

Kathy’s wedding is upon us and we are excited as hell. It is our first wedding in the family and it is going to change our family dynamics forever. We’re going to lose Kathy to Westchester, New York. But we are getting our first brother-in-law whom we like and respect. So we can all live with this big change.

 On the day of the wedding my father summons all of us into the living room. He has an announcement he wants to make. So we assemble ourselves for our family meeting.

“Look it “, he starts, “and I mean. Nobody is to invite anybody back to the house after the wedding. This thing is costing me a fortune and I’m not spending another cent today. I’m not feeding one more person than I have to. So don’t invite anyone back to the house. I mean it”. He points firmly at us to emphasize this point.

Really the thought probably never entered anybody’s mine. Nobody is in a post-wedding mindset at this point. We are just focused on the wedding.

So off we go to the wedding. The ceremony is beautiful. We all cry. Lots of pictures are taken and then we set off to the reception. And again the edict is given “no one gets invited back to the house”.

The band starts and actually there’re two bands at the wedding: a traditional wedding band and then an Irish band. So we have constant, loud, heart throbbing music for four continuous hours. Everybody is up dancing and singing and cheering and clapping and having a great time.

 And the bar is open this entire time. So liquor flows and people are drunk. And most of the drunks think they can now do the Irish jig at this point in their intoxication. So everyone is up dancing and sweating and stirring up a thirst which leads to more drinking and more drunkenness and greater and greater delusions of dancing talents.

As we approach 11 o’clock it’s time to wrap up with the last dance and the last drink.  My father is deep in negotiations with the bartender and the band leader. And then he turns around, grinning ear to ear.  He walks up on stage, interrupts the singer and announces “I’ve just convinced the band to play one more set and the bar is going to stay open. Drink up everybody”. The crowd erupts in cheer and rushes to the bar. Fun has just been cranked up a notch.

 With the conclusion of this extended set, the maître d’ comes over and puts his foot down.

“I’m sorry Mr. Kelly but we have to end this. We have to set up for a noon wedding tomorrow but I have to send my staff home sometime tonight. You and your guess have to leave”. He speaks civilly but sternly. My father is a gentleman and an understanding man. So he acquiesced to the man’s request. But then again he wanders up on stage and announces to all of us “the party’s over folks. But everyone is invited back for house”. He makes a sweeping jester with his hand as if to indicate that we should follow him, the Pied Piper.

People hurriedly get their things and began making their way to our house. As my father descends the stage steps, my mother greets him with annoyance and a burning desire to thump him.

 “Are you out of your mind? Are you aware that I have nothing in that house to serve people? What are you thinking?”

Well, he isn’t thinking. He’s just overjoyed with this moment. And he got caught up in that moment. And that moment got a little intensified by the scotch. And then his mouth got away from him. So he jesters to all of us to come together for what would be our second family meeting of the day. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. He doles out $20 dollar bills to each of us.

 “You go get beer,” he says to Jimmy.

 “You get lunch meat and bread”, he tells Sharon and Glenn.

 “You, cokes and mixers and a few lemons and limes” is his last command.

Each of us is given an assignment. We are told to hurry. And we all understand the urgency. We mobilize.

Maybe 50 people come back to the house. But they’re all hungry. So we have to head out two more times to replenish food. And everyone is revved up on Irish music. As I come back from one of my food runs I can hear my neighbors bellowing “it’s a long way to Tipperary” and it almost seems as if the house is shaking.

This goes on for a few more hours. It seems as if nobody is leaving anytime soon. But all the stores are now closed for the night. So there is no hope of restocking any provisions. I remember Judge Bradley coming into the kitchen, looking for a sandwich. I open the refrigerator and find one cucumber. I offer it to him. He takes it and eats it, oblivious to the fact that it is not a sandwich.

I don’t remember when the last guest finally left. But I remember the mess. I remember my parents sitting on the couch together. My sister had written them a note and they are reading it together. They are holding hands. I remember the look on their faces. This day has been more perfect then they had imagined.