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.
