[Critique Group 1] Oops, I think I failed to send it

[DQ Noriega]

February submission

Chapter 11.

Get me to the Church on Time

 

            Curt’s sister Cathy was married in December, of 1969.  Tammy and
I were part of the informal wedding party.  We stood at the door handing out
daisies for the wedding guests to throw after the ceremony.  I had grown
closer to the Noriega family, since the Easter break Tammy and I spent in
their home.  Helping Curt’s mother and sister prepare for the wedding made
this second Christmas away from my family a busy and memorable one.  I had
started calling Curt’s father Papa Bear.  He had a volatile temper and was a
perfectionist, impatient with mistakes.  He had a lively sense of humor and
was highly intelligent.  His outbursts were noisy but I sensed no real
violence in him.  Once he had calmed down, he was often surprised to find
others were hurt or upset.  Curt’s mother was much gentler. She radiated a
tender warmth and concern for everyone around her.  They were so different
and yet seemed to be happy with those differences.

 

In 1970, over the Thanksgiving holiday Curtis and I became engaged.  Tammy
and I had been two-against-the world for over two years.  I was now in my
junior year of college, living in my own apartment with only my dog for
company.  I was managing my finances, my school requirements and busy with
friends and activities.  A new element was about to enter our united lives.
Curt was the first young man I had dated that understood my need to be
independent and make my own choices.  He never tried to rein in my
enthusiasm or to control me.   He offered his support for my endeavors.  He
encouraged or sympathized when I needed either one. Many of my friends were
irreverent, outgoing and extroverted.  They couldn’t understand why I liked
such a quiet person.  He seemed dull to them.  Only Tammy understood that he
made me feel very special and loved for whom I really was.  She approved of
his calming affect on my flamboyant temperament.  He made me laugh and
allowed me to be myself instead of always having to put on a performance to
prove I was a normal college girl.   So many of the other people I knew
didn’t believe that blind people were normal human beings.  In a psychology
class, we were asked to choose an animal to represent each member of the
group.  One classmate gave his opinion that I was a tropical fish. He
explained that I lived in a world that seemed alien and unimaginable to him.
Often, people could not get past my blindness.  Other girls were tall, blond
or cute.  Blind was the first defining term in their minds when they thought
of me.  Curt didn’t rush to do simple tasks for me or treat me as if I were
helpless. If I set out to do something, he waited to be asked for his
assistance.  He didn’t act as if he thought my ability to accomplish tasks
on my own was remarkable.  If I prepared a meal, I could be sure he would be
honest about whether he enjoyed it.  Honest feedback is something I rarely
got from others.  They were so surprised I could do anything, that whether I
did it well or not, they praised my efforts.    

 

The night I finally accepted his proposal, he placed my fingertips in the
palm of his open hand.  Quietly, he told me that I feared commitment because
I thought of love as a cage.  What he offered was a safe haven to come back
too for rest after I had exhausted myself flying in all directions.  He
promised that he would never clip my wings.  As long as I always returned
home I could go freely and do whatever I pleased. The love he offered would
have no bars to cage my spirit. 

 

            I had briefly been engaged during my senior year of high school.
The man was ten years older than I and had been married before.  He saw me
as a beautiful Dresden figurine he could put on a shelf and keep as an
isolated treasure.  I broke off the engagement when it became clear to me
that he didn’t want me to go to college even for a year.  It became obvious
that he didn’t know who I was at all.  I wasn’t so sure of the answers
myself, but I was determined to find out.  I knew instinctively that love
isn’t love if there isn’t mutual respect and trust. 

 

I think that Curt’s maternal grandfather was the only one of his family that
thought there was any reason we shouldn’t marry.  He was a very
old-fashioned transplanted Englishman.  He warned Curt that getting involved
with such a girl might be a mistake.  He thought the only reason I was
attending college was to look for a husband.  Although this attitude upset
me, I made up my mind to win him over.  The funny part was that I had always
wanted to travel, to learn and to be independent.  I hadn’t really
considered marriage a viable option. I envisioned a life as a single
professional woman.  I imagined going interesting places on my vacations,
wearing expensive clothes and dedicating my time to working for the well
being of others.  Of course this future self would have a beautiful
well-groomed companion of the canine variety in harness at her side.  

 

Tammy and I accompanied Curt to spend the Christmas of 1970 with his grand
parents in Oregon. In part this was so that they might get to know me
better.  In preparation for the trip, Scottie and I made a royal mess of her
mom’s kitchen baking about ten varieties of breads and rolls to give as
gifts.  We worked all day mixing, measuring and baking.  I came away with
plenty to take to Oregon and to give to Annie and her parents and other
friends.  

 

Curt and I planned our wedding for the following June.  We tried to save up
money to fly my parents and grandmother out for a small ceremony at school.
We had a classmate who was a minister and of course I wanted Scottie to take
part in the wedding as my bride’s maid. 

 

My grandmother had never flown and was in frail health.  She had been
battling cancer for a long time.  She needed another operation.  She was
also afraid of flying.  She had always been one of my role models because
she was a tough tiny woman who had been left on a doorstep as a newborn
infant.  She married my full blood Chippewa grandfather young and bore him
eight children. She struggled to raise and instill good moral values in
them.  It couldn’t have been easy to face the prejudice of society against
an obviously white woman with a houseful of half-breed children.   She was a
faithful Catholic, strong minded and fierce in her determination to deal
with life’s ups and downs. Our plans had to be changed, when Grandma Luella
declared that she wanted me to come to Michigan to be married in the church
in which my parents were married.  Indian children are taught to respect
their elders. I was the eldest grandchild and was born on the same day
grandma considered her birthday.  Since my parents were divorced, I didn’t
see the point of getting married in that church, but if it was what my
grandmother wished, I wanted to make her happy.

 

When our plans were upset by Grandma Luella, Scottie offered Tammy and I a
travel trailer on her Mom’s driveway as a way to help save money for the
expense of going to Michigan.  It was a nineteen-foot miniature home on
wheels.  Scottie’s mom insisted that we share supper with the family in the
house.  Scottie did chauffeur duty to campus. Another wrench was thrown into
our June wedding date.  Curt got a job that was supposed to begin the day
after the spring term ended.  Spring break had to do as a wedding date, even
though it was to fall during lent.  Mom panicked when the wedding day had to
be moved up to accommodate Curt’s summer job.  I had put a dress on lay-away
the previous summer. Fearing I wouldn’t have the money in time, she
exchanged it.  She took two of my attendants to a bridal shop sale and had
them try dresses on alternately.  Kerri was my height and Nadine was closer
to me in build.  The poor sales clerk was confused and finally asked, “Which
girl is the bride?”  Mom floored her when she replied, “Oh, she’s not here.
She’s in college in California.”

 

Early on March 20th, 1971 I boarded a plane flying stand-by from Modesto
California with my two best friends.  One of these friends was a large
blackdog with beautiful amber eyes, who curled under the seat in front of
me.  The third member of the party was a broad shouldered young man with a
shy smile and a quiet manner that hid a lively sense of humor and a gentle
loving nature.  Despite the fact that we had never gone on an unchaperoned
date, Curt and I were on our way to begin life as a married couple and
incidentally a threesome.

 

When our plane landed in Detroit, we were bumped from the continuing flight
one hundred miles short of Saginaw.  I went to turn in the unused portion of
our tickets while Curt tried to reach my family to keep them from going to
the airport.  When Tammy and I joined him at a phone booth, my youngest
brother Donny was refusing to accept the charges from someone named Curtis
Noriega.  I snatched the phone and told him he was not going to live to be
fourteen if he didn’t accept the collect call!  Mom had already left to pick
us up.  I told him we would call again with a change in plans.

 

While getting the refund for our tickets, I had learned that an airport
shuttle bus was returning to its garage in Pontiac.  The driver was willing
to race us there to catch a Greyhound Bus for the rest of the trip.  It was
snowing heavily and we only had light California weight coats.

 

When we reached the bus station, the snow was falling so hard, it was
impossible to tell if the bus had come and already gone.  The station was
closed.  Our driver was loath to leave us standing in the snow.  He said he
had some business in Saginaw to undertake the next day and would be happy to
drive us the rest of the way in his own car after he turned in his shuttle
van.  While trying to call my mother on the payphone, I pushed the coin
return and about $30 came cascading out.  So it seemed our lucky day.

 

By the time we hit the road to Saginaw, the snowstorm had taken on blizzard
conditions.  Our kind driver kept losing sight of the road and driving
through people’s yards or off on the shoulder of the road.  He laughed and
put another tape in his player to sing along with as he drove on throughout
the night.  It was early morning before we reached the Saginaw bus station
and our Good Samaritan driver refused to accept any money for gas or his
trouble.

 

Through the next week, Tammy did double duty as faithful guide and 90 pound
teddy bear. Since she had only been fifteen months old when we met, she had
grown two inches taller and filled out to a heavily muscled broad chested
beauty.   She was always there beside me during the chaos that dogged our
steps.  My grandfathers quarreled over where the reception was to be held.
My stepfather’s stepfather wanted it to be in the Moose Lodge.  My grandma
Luella’s second husband wanted it to be in the steel workers union hall.
Considering that neither one of them was actually my grandfather by blood
relationship, I supposed I should have been flattered to be the cause of the
argument.  It was hard though to see the simple wedding among college
friends I had hoped for turn into an extravaganza and bone of contention.  

 

My parents weren’t speaking to each other. My stepfather had started
drinking again after nearly four years of sobriety.  He had moved out
temporarily.  He found it hard to see us all growing up.  Parenting young
adults was difficult for him.  He much preferred being father to young
children.  I had always played the peacemaker role in the family, but even
my skills were barely sufficient to keep things from boiling over.   

 

When my mother went out for doughnuts on the morning we arrived, she got
into a fender bender. Her ten year-old dog Babette, a standard poodle, was
stolen.  My gentle brother Rob had to go over and threaten a neighbor to
secure her return.  The man made a practice of stealing and selling purebred
dogs.  He had even stolen a vicious Doberman chained in the yard of the
family behind Mom’s house.  The owner pointed out that no one but a member
of his family could approach the dog.  Someone had used bolt cutters to
break his chain.  The dog thief claimed he had found the dog running loose.
When the judge asked how he had managed to secure the dog, given its
hostility to strangers.  He explained that he had thrown a net over it. The
judge levied a fine because he found it hard to believe that the average
citizen would conveniently happen to have a net handy to catch a loose dog.
It seemed much more likely that he had thrown a net over the Doberman before
cutting the chain.  This was the second time he had stolen Babette.  The
first time he must have sold her because she returned home after being gone
two weeks.  Her pads were worn through from the long journey she made to
come home.  I kept Tammy at my side and on leash whenever I came home to
avoid her being snatched from the yard.  

 

Chaos was the norm for my large quarrelsome family.  Mother was the eldest
of ten and her father was the eldest of twelve children.  I was the oldest
grandchild.  Relatives were not in short supply.  The phone never stopped
ringing as distant relations called to ask why they hadn’t received an
invitation to the wedding.  Mom kept a stack of announcement cards beside
the phone.  She asked for current information and reassured the second or
third cousin that she was sure their invitation was in the mail as she wrote
one for them.  

 

I had asked a young neighbor of Mom’s to be a bride’s maid.  We had become
friendly because I had been babysitting for her two children during my trips
home from college.  I had also asked a young cousin to take part in the
ceremony.  Various relations had begged to be included in the wedding party.
Both Rob and Ruben had steady girlfriends who wanted to participate.  By the
time the date approached, I had five bride’s maids, a maid of honor a flower
girl and a ring bearer.  I was beginning to feel like merely an excuse for
my family to hold a party.

 

My maid of honor was a step aunt that I had fought and played with since we
were both three.  She was only two months older than I but had made some
poor decisions in her life.  She insisted that we use her car to travel from
the church to the reception.  I was uneasy, but since we had shared so many
childhood memories, I didn’t feel I could refuse.  I wondered though what
her clients would think when they saw her paisley topped Cadillac go by
plastered with a "just married" sign.  Nina had turned her beauty to profit
by becoming a very expensive lady of the evening.

 

My uncle John was appalled when I told him I didn’t intend to buy any
alcohol for the reception.  He insisted on supplying it himself.  He and his
wife also wanted to be in the wedding.   

 

The week before the big day flew by as mom defrosted and decorated the
layers of my tiered wedding cake.  I did a few minor alterations to the sale
dress and took it to pick-out a veil. We needed to replace groomsmen gifts
that had been stolen from Curt’s suitcase in route to Michigan. Thank
heavens they missed his great grandfather's gold pocket watch and chain
hidden in one of his dress shoes.  Then there was a bridal bouquet, corsages
for the mothers and grandmothers to choose and a blue garter to find.  Not
to mention a bridal shower to attend.    

 

One afternoon, I slipped into my parents’ room to phone my mother-in-law to
be. I asked her to take us out shopping.  My excuse was to look for an
outfit to wear to the rehearsal dinner.  I really didn’t need a new dress.
I was just worried I wouldn’t have a groom come the big day if I didn’t get
him out from underfoot.  My mother was busy piping roses, lilies of the
valley and doves using her secret decorating frosting on the layers of our
wedding cake.  Curt and my youngest brother were sticking fingers into bowls
of colored icing and sword fighting with the wooden dowels used to support
and separate the layers of the cake.  I seriously doubted Mom’s patience
would hold out if I didn’t drag my fiancée out of harm’s way.  

 

Curt’s parents were startled when they tried to rent the bridal suite for
us.  They had made a reservation for a room with a king size bed for their
stay.  When they arrived, the bed appeared to be queen size.  When Curt’s
dad objected, he was told that it was a queen size bed if one person rented
the room but became king size when two shared the room.  Being an engineer,
he was stymied by this illogic. Beds don’t usually grow a foot wider if two
people share them.   When they asked to reserve the bridal suite for us, the
manager explained that they were in it. It appeared that not only did the
bed magically expand with double occupancy, but the room also became a suite
if newly weds rented it.  

 

When we arrived at the church to rehearse, I was surprised to find my
accompanist had not even looked at the music I had purchased and mailed to
her months in advance.  She made such a hash of it on the piano that I asked
her to try it on the organ.  The way an organ blends one note into the next
disguised some of her mistakes and at least the music was vaguely
recognizable.  

 

We were thirty for the rehearsal dinner.  Upon arrival at the restaurant,
the management charged more than the agreed amount alleging they didn’t have
a reservation for our party.  This claim was made despite the fact that they
had a table set for us for a family style meal.  My baby sister refused to
eat anything at the restaurant, even turning down the mint ice cream
provided for dessert.  When we arrived back at my parents’ home, she placed
her little hand in mine and whispered, “Sissy, will you make me a cheese
sandwich?”  I just had to laugh and make her the sandwich because crying was
out of the question.

 

My stepfather arrived and started pacing at seven in the morning on my big
day.  He still wasn’t talking to my mother.  I scrambled to make sure my
things were packed.  After lunch, I gave my little sister lessons in sitting
down in her flower girl dress.  The first time she attempted this feat, the
hoop holding her skirt out flipped up and hit her in the nose causing a
storm of tears.  I got her calmed down just as mom rushed into the room to
ask if I could manage to dress myself.  I replied that since I had been
doing so for most of my twenty-two years, I thought I could handle it.  She
burst into tears exclaiming, “Well, I can’t, I have got my zipper stuck!”  I
got the jam solved and went back to hoop skirt lessons.

 

Finally, we left for the church.  The cake developed a list in the back of
Mom’s station wagon.  We arrived at the church to find that the janitor had
not appeared to unlock the door.  It started to snow and I stood shivering
on the doorstep hoping my groom would not appear before we could get in and
out of sight.  The dress I had originally chosen had a train that flowed
from the waist and could be fastened up to form a butterfly effect for
dancing.  The one my mother had traded it in for had a train that fell from
the shoulders and didn’t have a way to fasten it up.  When I moved some
satin roses to disguise where one was missing, I had fortunately added a
satin wrist loop.  My dress was a sugar crystal organza.  As the wind dusted
me with snow flakes, I held the train of the dress up to keep it out of the
mud.  as I waited  for the awol janitor, , Tammy sat quietly at my side
helping me with her presence from completely losing control.  

 

There was a last minute scramble for safety pins when Nina wanted to
practice putting back my veil.  The snaps on her full satin sleeves kept
coming undone and they slid up to her shoulders.  Then I took Tammy to my
grandfather to hold for me.  He loved dogs.  When a heart attack forced him
to retire Grandfather had adopted my Chihuahua and spoiled her rotten.  He
was having a hard time holding back his tears.  I thought minding Tammy
would give him a distraction.

 

The music began and I followed five-year old Christina down the aisle.  She
forgot her shyness and walked with measured steps ahead of me carrying her
flower girl basket.  As we passed the pew where Grandpa sat with Tammy, she
broke loose and came dashing up the hardwood floor of the aisle, sounding
like a small pony.  Donny, my youngest brother tackled her from the side and
pinned her to the floor.  My stepfather hissed, “Don’t laugh!”  I disgraced
myself by breaking into giggles.

 

During the service, there were the usual sounds of a fussy baby, an elderly
person’s cough and the mournful wails of a protesting guide dog.  Curt
swears to this day that the loudest of these erupted when the minister
reached the part in the ceremony where he asked if any in the congregation
could give a reason these two should not be joined in holy matrimony. I
think if I had let her walk with me up the aisle, she would have been
perfectly happy. 

 

When we arrived at the reception hall, we had to coax my new mother-in-law
in from playing in the snow to stand in the reception line.  Although a
buffet dinner was provided, I had no time to eat.  After cutting the cake
and opening the gifts, the dancing began. My new husband and I led off and
my little sister played ring-around-the-rosy with my six year-old ring
bearer and the rest of the wedding party joined us on the dance floor.
Then generous relations lined up to dance with the bride and groom, paying a
few dollars for the privilege.  The money they gave us allowed us to buy a
washing machine, and a table and chairs. 

 

Many American Indian women get quite heavy in their later years and Chippewa
are usually tall.  Curt was very intimidated when several of my great aunts
formed a line to dance with the groom.  He said that at five foot seven, and
weighing in at one hundred and thirty pounds, he couldn’t help feeling as if
he were facing being asked to steer Green Bay Packers in drag around the
dance floor.  I had my own problems managing the train of my dress as my
father-in-law went into his version of Fred Estaire twirling and swooping
around the room.  Picture taking and more gift opening took up additional
time.  

 

Finally, I slipped around the room to give good-bye hugs to my two
grandmothers great grandmother and closest relations.  We crept away without
my even throwing the bouquet. The extended family was so busy dancing,
drinking and trying to top each other in the telling of outrageous tall
tales, that I don’t think most people noticed us leave.  I was so tired and
we needed to catch a 5 A.M. flight back to school the next day.  Monday our
spring quarter of classes began. If this all sounds a bit like the perils of
Pauline, well at least Tammy and I avoided being tied to the railroad tracks
and we ended up carrying off the hero in one piece with us when we made our
escape.  

 

-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://bluegrasspals.com/pipermail/group1/attachments/20180224/1061abb4/attachment-0001.html>