From this moment, life has begun...
----Shania Twain
After we signed the pre-nuptial agreement (prenup), fiancé (FE) and I decided to wed in the Spring. When he asked how we were to proceed, I told him, “If we are going to have a much-to-do wedding , we need to do it the Filipino way and that means the groom pays for the wedding. If we do it the American way, we will have a problem. I am not going to spend my money on a wedding. Whatever money I have saved is for my son.”
Lesson – remain true to your cultural norm, especially if it is irresponsible not to.
Furthermore, I have never in my life, fantasized about marching down the aisle, wearing a ton of make- up, hair stiff with lacquer, wearing some drag queen jewelry, a white wedding gown as though I was sweet and pure. You know how some women said that all they did when they were young was to fantasize being a princess and marrying a prince? How sexist! Really! When I was a young girl, I fantasized about being a hippie wearing lots of bangles, wearing a long skirt, and living in a theater commune. Girls should instead fantasize of being the ruler, be the one to see if the boy fits the shoe! Anyway, I was a forty something bride. At this point, a short ceremony before a court official would have sufficed. I could not imagine being a blushing bride and if I were blushing at any point past my 37th birthday, I probably was having hot flashes. And finally, I come fully packaged with a first grader. Indeed, I was not interested in a big wedding. However, FE said he wanted to give me a proper wedding.
We considered getting married in the Philippine Embassy but we found out that if we did that, our marriage would have been “officiated in the Philippines”, as the embassy is legally part of the Philippines. I did not particularly favor one church over the other. The Catholics did not want FE to use their church! He was divorced and was a sinner. On the other hand, I was born and raised and baptized and confirmed a Roman Catholic, I became a protestant at 16 without the Catholics knowing anything about it, I had a child out of wedlock but never married in church so I was viewed as deserving of the Catholic rites and blessings and has the right to kiss the Pope’s ring. Not FE! Not good enough! So we decided to go “Catholic light.” Light on guilt. Allows you to dip the host in wine. Gives communion to everyone. My kind of church. We were going to be wed at the cathedral of Saint Agnes and Bernadette, a historical, beautiful Anglican cathedral in town. Go King Henry!
The next issue was the date. It could not happen just anytime in Spring. First, I was in the center of a theater production. I was directing a flagship production for the Philippine Centennial, to be mounted during the week of the Philippine Independence Day. We were rehearsing every weekend and every waking moment I had, when I was not working was spent visualizing, creating, planning, and honestly had no time to spare for a wedding. And so, with the blessing of my cast and crew, I took one weekend in April to have a church wedding. Planning for the wedding was easy. First of all, I knew that the lead actors would show up. There was only one rehearsal, there were no prima donnas to deal with. There’s only one performance. He and I get to choose the audience. We decided the Cherry Blossom week would be good and a trip to Europe in June right after the play was staged would be a good respite; in fact we would leave the day after the last performance.
A week before the wedding, I was changing my son’s clothes. Seated on my lap, I noticed he was crying so I asked him what was wrong. He looked at me and asked, “Mommy, do you really, really love me?” “Mommy loves you of all the little boys in the whole wide world.” “Then why am I giving you away?” “You are not giving me away.” “You said at the wedding, I will give you away. I do not want to give you away,” he said as his tears flowed. “Oh no, that was not meant for you to give me to someone. It only meant that you are going to lead the way for me to Tatay. We will walk together…” “I do not want to give you away! Mommy, please do not make me give you away.” “No, you do not have to, Anak. Hush, it is okay… See, I am here and you will not give me away. Will you walk with me to the altar because I will be too scared I may not be able to? “ “No, I will walk by myself. I will wear my tuxedo and I will look like James Bond. I will be your ring boy and Tatay’s best boy, ‘kay?” “Okay, you got yourself a deal! Tahan na, anak. Do not cry anymore. Mommy will never, ever leave you behind, okay? Remember, we are a team you and I. I love you, always. Always.” “Ok. Always. Now let’s read Harry Potter. Mommy, is Hagrid a redneck?”
It was seasonably rainy on my wedding day. The cherry blossoms were scattered like snowflakes on the emerald green grass. The world sparkled through the prism of gentle rain drops. I walked to the waiting car, with little Kris holding on to my hand.
He was crying earlier because his shoes were too big so I gave him a pair of woolen Christmas socks to wear and he loved them! I put my hair up, put my make-up on, put my wedding dress on, a simple sheath made of Philippine pineapple silk fiber with rice pearls adorning it, a pearl tiara an tulle veil, and an old pair of cream leather shoes, and I was ready to walk down the aisle. Checking my list of "props," I made a mental note. Something old: me; something new: pearl tiara; something borrowed: sister Carme’s wedding veil; something blue: engagement ring. Seemed like I was ready to get married.
We were half walking, half skipping to the car when my little boy slid and fell on his buttocks on the sidewalk. He let out a cry but I pulled him up and said, “Whoa! What a brave little James Bond!” I almost went down with him but I caught myself and I could see the amused look on our chauffer’s face. Victor, my husband’s favorite chauffer, who spoke with an elegant British accent, greeted me, “Good morning Madam. Shall we take you to your groom?” “We shall, thank you very much, Victor!” With a smile in his eyes and much happy chatter between me and my BFF and my overflowing love for the handsome little boy seated next to me, I was on my way to say “I do” to my beloved glow-in- the- dark white knight in shining armor.
It was not a stage, but all the characters were there. My audience was not that big and the venue was solemn and the musician was cuing me for my entrance. There were beautiful ferns and flowers adorning the church. The two little girls went first, so pretty in their matching crisp white dresses, each carrying a bouquet of white flowers, walking behind them was my little boy, then there was just myself and no one else. It was an out of body experience.
It was not a stage, but all the characters were there. My audience was not that big and the venue was solemn and the musician was cuing me for my entrance. There were beautiful ferns and flowers adorning the church. The two little girls went first, so pretty in their matching crisp white dresses, each carrying a bouquet of white flowers, walking behind them was my little boy, then there was just myself and no one else. It was an out of body experience.
I was cuing myself: Curtain! Enter. Walk, do not run, hello? Slowly. Smile. Jeez, float! I was seeing and thinking in slow mo: my friend L was there, hahaha, did she just get a face lift!? J and A, wow, she lost a lot of weight, both look happy, geez they should allow same sex marriage. Oh, E, you look good in that color, girlfriend, eeeeee! eeeeee! Can you believe this? A, hey, hee-hee-hee, I told you I was not going to screw this one up. See? I was multi-thinking in rapid Taglish, “Okay,kay,kay!”, What? Sige,sige, sige walk na! Ano ba, OMG, get a hold of yourself! Grabe! Nay ko po! Shishkebabs! Is this real or is this Memorex? Hahahaha. This is so scary. Yikes!
I needed to enjoy the moment. Instead I was freaking out. I was thinking, laughing, crying all inside my head. It seemed forever to get to the altar.
Inside my head: I was thinking: OMG, this guy has really lost it. He truly is waiting down the aisle for me. I was laughing: He is not running to the nearest exit! I was crying and saying: He is so reliably, devotedly, lovingly waiting for me. Then I saw a sea of jusi and pinya outfits - my family, my young nieces and nephews and sisters and brother and sister-in-law and my heart swelled with all the love I have for them and all the love they have for me. I saw my friends who have been through so many roads with me and I saw my FE’s friends and family. Yikes! This production was awesome. I stopped saying, crying, and laughing inside my head. That was schizo, alright! I calmed down. I smiled and I continued floating down the aisle.
“For better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death us do part…
Pangako sa iyo, ipaglalaban ko, sa hirap at ginhawa ang ating pag-ibig. Upang di magkalayo kaylan man..."
Having said our vows, wedding songs sung, rings exchanged, we officially became husband and wife. We proceeded to the reception site. Union Station was filled with tourists. And the Ringling Brothers had an exhibit on the promenade. The circus was in town. What an appropriately wonderful way to send us on our way! I threw my bouquet from the top of the stairs of the cafe to the delight of my friends, family and total strangers trying to catch it.
Two weeks or so before our wedding, FE called me and asked me if I would make a call to the pastry shop. It seems that everyone told him that we had to have a wedding cake. It was the last thing on my mind and his too. He did not like cake, he would rather have a wedding cookie. I was busy with my play and could not be bothered by of all things, cake! But I had a favorite French bakery in town and FE called them. He told me that they insisted to talk to the bride. So I called them and asked them to bake a pear mousse cake. Mr. French baker or whatever you call him in Francais was nice but I could hardly understand him. He wanted me to come and choose a design. No design monsieur, just a plain sheet of mousse cake please. He wanted me to choose a decoration – a bride and groom on top of the cake. Were they thinking like a white guy and a brown doll perhaps? No thanks. What, like a Mr. and Ms. United Nations about to skate on ice? No, merci beau coups. I just want a plain sheet of pear mousse. D'accord. I thought.
During the reception, my newly minted husband (HB) told me. “I had them cut the cake already.” It appeared that the restaurant staff called him into the kitchen to show him the cake and to ask him what he wanted to do. They opened the box, and the cake said, “Café at Union Station.” It seemed like Mr. Frenchesco wrote the destination of the cake instead of “Congratulations HB and GE" (ok, GE for gorgeous). We laughed so hard, nothing else could go wrong, but did, and made our wedding all the more memorable. Lessons for my non-existent daughter on planning a wedding.
1. Get real, it is just a wedding. Worry more about the marriage.
Inside my head: I was thinking: OMG, this guy has really lost it. He truly is waiting down the aisle for me. I was laughing: He is not running to the nearest exit! I was crying and saying: He is so reliably, devotedly, lovingly waiting for me. Then I saw a sea of jusi and pinya outfits - my family, my young nieces and nephews and sisters and brother and sister-in-law and my heart swelled with all the love I have for them and all the love they have for me. I saw my friends who have been through so many roads with me and I saw my FE’s friends and family. Yikes! This production was awesome. I stopped saying, crying, and laughing inside my head. That was schizo, alright! I calmed down. I smiled and I continued floating down the aisle.
“For better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death us do part…
Pangako sa iyo, ipaglalaban ko, sa hirap at ginhawa ang ating pag-ibig. Upang di magkalayo kaylan man..."
Having said our vows, wedding songs sung, rings exchanged, we officially became husband and wife. We proceeded to the reception site. Union Station was filled with tourists. And the Ringling Brothers had an exhibit on the promenade. The circus was in town. What an appropriately wonderful way to send us on our way! I threw my bouquet from the top of the stairs of the cafe to the delight of my friends, family and total strangers trying to catch it.
Two weeks or so before our wedding, FE called me and asked me if I would make a call to the pastry shop. It seems that everyone told him that we had to have a wedding cake. It was the last thing on my mind and his too. He did not like cake, he would rather have a wedding cookie. I was busy with my play and could not be bothered by of all things, cake! But I had a favorite French bakery in town and FE called them. He told me that they insisted to talk to the bride. So I called them and asked them to bake a pear mousse cake. Mr. French baker or whatever you call him in Francais was nice but I could hardly understand him. He wanted me to come and choose a design. No design monsieur, just a plain sheet of mousse cake please. He wanted me to choose a decoration – a bride and groom on top of the cake. Were they thinking like a white guy and a brown doll perhaps? No thanks. What, like a Mr. and Ms. United Nations about to skate on ice? No, merci beau coups. I just want a plain sheet of pear mousse. D'accord. I thought.
During the reception, my newly minted husband (HB) told me. “I had them cut the cake already.” It appeared that the restaurant staff called him into the kitchen to show him the cake and to ask him what he wanted to do. They opened the box, and the cake said, “Café at Union Station.” It seemed like Mr. Frenchesco wrote the destination of the cake instead of “Congratulations HB and GE" (ok, GE for gorgeous). We laughed so hard, nothing else could go wrong, but did, and made our wedding all the more memorable. Lessons for my non-existent daughter on planning a wedding.
1. Get real, it is just a wedding. Worry more about the marriage.
2. KISS it. (Keep It Simple Stupid).
3. Ask your friends to take photos. They provide the most realistic view of your day. Our photographer failed to produce one single useful photo.
4. Laugh at the “unfortunate” happenings. Those become the memories you relive through the years. Worry about substance over form.
5. Marry the one you love, and only the one you love!
6. And last and more importantly, celebrate marrying a frugal guy, he would always have money stashed away somewhere. I promise.
Two months later, my cast and crew had a gala opening of “Filipinas, Circa 1905”, at the Marvin Center, George Washington University. We had a very good review. Our production henceforth became part of Fil-Am theater history in the Washington, DC area. I was once more a true Anak-Tibawan, proud of my University of the Philippines theater background and proud to be a Filipino kilos-sining.
The day after our final performance, Mr. Victor took us to the airport .“Have a pleasant trip, Mrs. Russell. See you when you get back, Madam.” Whoa! Did he really call me Mrs. R? Here's the deal, this is serious, serious business! My name has changed, and I was still reeling from the previous night’s discussion, which was a meltdown about his name and mine together on checks and a credit card with my first name and his name on it. Oh. My. God.
We boarded a Swiss Air flight bound for Rome, Italy.
“Please do not get used to this.”
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