Large family gatherings can sometimes bring out the weird in people, in situations, and in life. They are great fun and wonderful times to catch up with people, get to know people you last saw when you were six, and grow closer to people you have known all your life. But strange things happen.
This past weekend was the first of the two weddings that Alrica and I are attending in our month long trip to the USA. This one was in Des Moines, Iowa. Though, even on the way to Des Moines, there were some strange happenings.
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Have you ever seen a Polly Pocket vending machine. Do we need them in airports? |
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How did Houston become the capital of the south? Does it know it's not even the capital of Texas? |
The wedding was sumptuous and gorgeous. The ceremony was touching and felt like it was about this couple, not just something generic. There was a string quartet who played magnificently. The food at the reception was wonderful, and the live band was great. They played a lot of hits from my childhood. We also had Hava Nagila for about 12 minutes, probably longer than any human needs to keep that level of energy going.
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L to R: My dad, my bro, my mom, my wife, and some random guy |
I am on the bride's side, so I know much, but not all, of the bride's family that attended. I didn't know anyone on the groom's side, but they were very loving and kind people. Still, I would like to relate a few incidents.
As you might imagine, Alrica and I were (and still are) curiosities. Everyone heard about the couple who just travels and doesn't have a home. That was immediately a topic of interest, which is great, you don't have to break the ice. But it did lead to a few weird comments.
At one point I was telling one of the groom's uncles about our road trip in Europe when we saw the tulips in the Netherlands. His comment was "You can see tulips in Michigan!"
I don't fully comprehend the mentally of a comment like that. You are only reading the words and you have to just guess at the tone. I got both, so let me try to parse the meaning.
Option A: Maybe this is saying the world has nothing on the good old USA. If that's his feeling, then why is he talking to me? He knows I'm traveling the world to see its highlights and wonders. Don't mellow my buzz, man.
Option B: Let's give the benefit of the doubt and say that isn't the intention. Maybe it is just saying, people don't have to travel far to see tulips, because we have them closer to home. Yes, valid point, except, before I went to Europe and rented a car, I was in Tunisia. So the Netherlands was a lot closer and more convenient than a trip to Michigan. Cross the Mediterranean or cross the Atlantic: I know the stereotype of Americans is that we don't understand geography very well, but I think everyone knows the Atlantic is a lot bigger.
Option C: Perhaps this comment was a complaint that the Netherlands is hogging all the tulip notoriety. Why should the Dutch be famous for both tulips and windmills? Why can't Michiganders get in on all the good publicity? This is entirely valid. I have to be honest, I had no idea Michigan had tulips until this comment was spoken. Okay, let me flesh that out a bit. Had I needed to hazard a guess, I would have proposed that some citizens of the Wolverine State planted some tulips in their yards or flower boxes. So I wasn't amazed to know that Michigan has tulips. But I didn't know that they had fields of them that people go look at. Now, having done some web investigation, I find that there is a tulip festival in Michigan. But do you know the name of the city in which it takes place? Holland, Michigan. Named for Holland, the section of the Netherlands that is famous for tulips! So it goes back to the Netherlands.
In another instance, I was speaking to a relative from my family. I don't think I had ever met her before. She is a generation before mine, a first cousin of my mother. We were talking about my travels and she told me I was interesting. Naturally I said, "Thank you," because, you know, I'm a courteous boy when duty calls. But it was her follow-up question that threw me. She asked, "How did you become interesting? Like, what happened to you that made you interesting?"
How do you answer a question like that? And what is the underlying assumption? Does it presuppose that I was a dullard until I performed a feat akin to kissing the Blarney Stone (which I have done) but instead of imparting glibness upon me, it imparted fascination? To be interesting, must one survive a trial by fire or possession by demons or something else exceptional and come out of the experience with a newfound soul of a raconteur?
I decided that in the paraphrased words of Shakespeare that some are born interesting, some achieve interestingocity, and some have interestingness thrust upon them. I also answered that I was in the first category, and I had always been interesting. Some kids are born with a silver spoon in their mouths. I was born with a song in my heart, a twinkle in my eyes, and an unnecessarily flowery vocabulary on my tongue. Or typing fingers. Which is all of them, except the left thumb that doesn't seem to get much keyboard action.
Another unusual experience: I got to not drive a self-driving car. My aunt, the grandmother of the bride, had just gotten her hair styled. It was raining. So I was sent to get her car, a Tesla, and bring it up to the entrance where she was waiting under cover. She slid into the passenger seat and I was driving us back to her house. Then she said, "Do you want to drive the Tesla or do you want the Tesla to drive itself home?" What kind of question is that? Of course I wanted to see how the self-driving car could do!
As the "driver" I had to keep my eyes on the road or the car would stop navigating itself. I also kept my hands on the steering wheel, though that isn't required. It felt safer to me, but I will admit, I wasn't the turning the wheel. The wheel was turning my hands. I did have to take over at the driveway and get the car into the garage. But the car did a fantastic job. It distinguished between red lights and green lights. It knew how to turn right on red. It signaled before it switched lanes. It kept to the speed limit. The technology is very impressive.
At one point, I threw caution to the wind. I danced with a much younger woman. I didn't even try to hide it. I did it right beside my wife, in the main sanctuary of the synagogue as we waited for the ceremony to start. But Alrica wasn't very jealous. My lovely dance partner was my first cousin, twice removed, and also is still an infant. She is the daughter of the maid of honor, and I was holding her so her mother could do maid of honorly duties without a baby in tow. The dancing kept her contented.
Over the five days I was in Des Moines
- I had a good old American burger
- Ate Crab Rangoon Pizza
- Enjoyed one of my favorite desserts: peanut butter balls (made by my aunt using the same recipe that my grandmother used to make)
- Gave a tag-team toast alongside my brother to the bride and groom, mirroring the tag-team toast we had given at the wedding of the bride's parents when we were teenagers
- Arranged flowers
Wait. That last one isn't entirely true. Alrica arranged, I was in charge of handing her baby's breath and green leafy things. But I was part of the flower arranging team.
I hope, after all these anecdotes and bullet points, you understand it was a pretty amazing few days in Des Moines. I ate too much, slept not enough, talked about travel with many interested parties, talked about mathematics with only one interested party, and talked about hockey in which conversation I was not interested. But hey, courteous, remember?
Onward to wedding number two!