October 10, 1996
Dear Everyone:
First and foremost,
welcome to the family, “Janice”!
The wedding
(“Janice” and “Byron”, for those of you who weren’t there) was lovely.
Even the weather cooperated.
It was raining when we arrived in
Portland
Friday afternoon, but it had stopped by nightfall.
And on Saturday, it went from partly cloudy to mostly sunny; so
it was neither too cold nor too hot for an outdoor wedding.
The setting was at
the home of one of “Byron’s” friends, in a beautifully landscaped yard
overlooking the
Willamette River. I
should say “a beautifully re-landscaped
yard” courtesy of the aforementioned Willamette River, which, last
February, came rushing up over its banks and proceeded to swallow much
of the previous yard. The
hostess showed us a photograph taken during the flood.
It showed the flag pole and the top of a tree.
Everything else, including the spot where we were standing, was
under at least six feet of water.
Personally, I like
the outdoor, less formal, weddings over the big-white-dress (“she looks
like a meringue”) and cathedral affairs.
On a sour note, I could have done without the four
migraine headaches
that came boiling up out of nowhere over three days.
They started Friday morning and ended (knock on wood) Sunday
afternoon. I hadn’t eaten
anything very different.
They started before we left
for Oregon, so I don’t
know that we can blame the local water or anything.
I refuse to believe (for now) that I’m becoming allergic to my
family. So I have to
conclude that, coming so soon after the "Boise" trip, that my body just
doesn’t like traveling. And,
frankly, neither do I.
Not that I can
complain about very much (provided we don’t mention any airlines by
name). Certainly the
accommodations were excellent.
While “Richard” and “Marshall” had to share the guest room,
“Jeannie”, “Alice” and I each had our own bed in the
RV that Mother borrowed
from a neighbor. I honestly
think we had more floor space than the boys.
My bed even had a reading light.
And, for added interest, each time one of us rolled over in bed,
the whole place would start rocking gently from side to side.
“Jeannie” kept dreaming that she was in the middle of a
particularly mild-mannered earthquake.
As for the
“rehearsal dinner” the night before the wedding, Mother, true to form,
cooked enough for an army, although only a platoon showed up (there were
20 of us). Another handy
thing about that RV. It has
a refrigerator in which to store food that won’t fit in the regular
fridge. The folks will be
eating roast pork and apple sauce for weeks.
And no one will
forget “Jeannie’s” saga of one of her recent witnesses giving directions
to his home. He lives in a
mobile home park,
so he has no formal address.
Instead, it went something like this:
“You go up for a
while, then you go down for a while.
Turn left at the dead dog.
Third home on the right.”
“OK, I go up for a
while, then down for a while, then turn left on Dead Dog Road.”
“No, turn left at
the dead dog in the road.
Third home on the right.”
“You have a dead dog
in the road?”
“Well, if they done
drugged the dead dog away, turn left anyway.
Third home on the right.”
As long as you
remember it’s the third home
on the right.
Love, as always,
Pete
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