Welcome to the family

So Erin and I made it to NY on time and were met by my smiling mother, fresh from Fed-Ex/Kinkos where she had acquired the materials for our “project”: putting together the bulletins for the wedding. Tony did a remarkable job and they came out looking quite elegant. Highlights of the endeavor were poor Uncle Mike pricking his fingers trying to curl the bows and Aunt Doris nagging my father to keep helping.

We hopped in the car on Thursday to head up to Rene’s home town of Brooklyn, CT, birthplace of Vanilla Coke (no joke: The Vanilla Bean Café). Erin and I drove with Mike and Doris and I’m proud to note that, in spite of their best efforts to get to me, I outlasted Uncle Mike in listening to Yanni on the ride up. When we finally got into town and filled our gullets, we went to go try on our tuxedos. Of course, we had to pull off on some side roads for the annual “Wild West” party that Brooklyn, CT seems to throw. Lots of chaps and cowboy boots in rural Connecticut. I think my grandmother summed it up best when she said “you could put the whole lot of them together and have enough teeth for a single person.” I kid, of course, they weren’t “hicks.” But some reeeealllly bad singing made us long for the days when Spears and Aguilera crooned their ways into our hearts.

The rehearsal was delightful and the rehearsal dinner was also a blast, capped by Tony, Eric and Tim taking golf drives in the moonlight. The next morning, we woke up bright and early and I played my first nine holes of golf. On the first hole, I hit par… of course, every hole after that I hit between 8-15 shots. I think I hit par once more on the 9th hole, but by then I had embarrassed myself sufficiently enough. Tony and I met up with the family for lunch where we had a 30-minute photo shoot with Tom, the owner of the Vanilla Bean Café.

The wedding itself was beautiful. Mom had carefully planned a “dummy version” of the ceremony program for Rene with the wrong color ribbon and pages out of order and upside down. Dad looked stunning in his frock as he helped pass out communion. And Tony was cool as a cucumber in his Mandarin tux. Of course, Rene stole the show… but what else is new.

I couldn’t tell you much about the reception. We spent about 3 hours taking photos. I think all told, 1000 pictures were taken and the photographer said she had run out of film. The introductions were a blast, my speech was crappy but heartfelt, and dinner was deeeelish. In fact, the only downside for the evening was the drunk DJ who apparently had been left by his wife a week earlier, so Rene said she got a strong “Wedding Singer” vibe off him. This was accentuated by the fact that the microphone had a high bass to it, so that his voice was very Darth DJ-like. But of course, that couldn’t stop mom from dancing on the tables.

The next day, Erin and I got a ride home from Rob and Tati and went on a scenic tour of Connecticut with Rob’s parents. We revisited their old stomping grounds: Shanigans. Apparently, Uncle Rich has been going to Shanigans every year for the past half century. Literally. It makes you think. Is there something special that YOU do once a year for an extended period of time? The closest I have is 8 years straight of going to LBI. Post YOUR hit streaks in the comments section!

When we got home, Erin and I had dinner with the family and then we met up with Mark, Patrick and Matt for a birthday beer before heading back to Indiana the next day.

Tune in tomorrow for the end of the moving debacle and the arrival of a new member to the family whose NOT Rene.