Our wedding reception was a simple but loving affair. Most of weddings were like that in the nineteen sixties. We rented the Parish Hall at the church for the evening and a woman from the neighborhood decorated the area and brought cakes, finger sandwiches, coffee and and punch for the guests. She did a wonderful job of making the hall feel special and everything she created in her home kitchen was quite tasty while also having an exquisite appearance.
Mike and I greeted our guests as they passed through the reception line wishing us the best in our future life together. It was all a blur as we engaged in small talk with an effort to be certain that everyone felt welcome. The families and friends mingled together with laughter and good spirits with my Grandpa Little being a particularly popular member of the gathering. He looked quite handsome in his new Sunday suit and few would have guessed his advanced age of ninety years if they did not know him.
The photographer kept himself busy snapping photos of the occasion while Mike and I mingled with the guests to show gratitude to them for sharing our joy. Soon we were carrying out the standard traditions of the times. I was wearing something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue and a garter. I sat on a chair and raised my skirt so that Mike was able to remove the garter amidst laugher and cheers. He tossed it into the air for one of the single men to catch. Then I did the same with my bouquet of white roses. Whoever caught those things was supposed to be the next to marry, but I can’t remember who they were for the life of me. After a bit more chatting we both left the party to change into our traveling outfits.
We emerged to shouts of love and encouragement as well as applause. The groomsmen had moved our car to the front of the building. It was decorated with shaving cream, tin cans, toilet paper and all sorts of silly scrawling. Mike and I were showered with rice that the guests hurled at us as we passed through the gauntlet of happy people. Everyone was laughing with delight as we drove away, but we were not quite yet leaving for the beginning of our life together. We had a flight to catch for a journey to New Orleans at Hobby Airport, but it was a bit early to depart, so we ended up driving to my family home where Mama was hosting an after party with my aunts and uncles and cousins.
Everyone gushed about how beautiful the event had been. My Uncle Paul said that it was the best wedding he had ever attended. His comment made me smile because I’m not sure that he had been to more than a few weddings in his lifetime, but I enjoyed his enthusiasm nonetheless. It felt so comfortable in that house that I suddenly felt a tinge of sadness in knowing that I would never live there again. Such notions were fleeting however each time I considered the adventures that lay ahead for me and Mike.
Soon we were saying goodbyes again and heading for the airport with my cousin Alan and his wife Susan behind us. Those were the days when airports were relaxed places where everyone was free to wander the premises, so Alan and Susan not only followed us to the boarding gate, but even said their goodbyes to us inside the plane. Susan was taking photos the entire time to commemorate the occasion. After hugs and best wishes they left and I felt as excited as can be because I had never before flown nor did I ever remember being in New Orleans. I would later find out that I went there with my mother and father when I was still a baby riding in a stroller.
The flight was quick and easy. We caught a cab and headed for the French Quarter where Mike had made reservations in the Hotel Monteleone. I had to admit to feeling like a kid on an exotic adventure as we turned down one of the narrow streets filled with beautiful historic architecture and people celebrating late into the evening. Soon we were walking into the lobby of the hotel where Mike felt a jolt of disappointment because it was under renovation and we walked on sheets of plywood to reach the desk. I was so fascinated by it all that nothing marred my enthusiasm. It was literally like being in another world unlike anything I had ever seen.
For the next two and a half days we toured the lovely shops on Royal Street and sampled food from fine restaurants. We went to Pat O’Brien’s where I sampled a breeze and Mike went all out for a hurricane. We listened to jazz bands and munched on beignet at Cafe du Monde. We rode the trolley to the Garden district where Mike showed me the dorm where he had lived as a student at Loyola. We walked through the neighborhood where he showed me the place where he and friends played the pinball machines. We ate roast beef poboys from a tiny eatery. We even enjoyed a steak from a place that offered a meal for under two dollars.
Back in the quarter we dressed up for a special dinner at Broussard’s. We sat in the courtyard feasting on foods so indescribably delicious that my mouth still waters at the thought of them. One evening we went the Blue Room of the Roosevelt Hotel thanks to Mike’s Uncle Bob who thought we might enjoy some great entertainment. A singer, dancer, actress named Fran Jeffries was the featured performer and she did not disappoint. I felt like I was on a movie set starring in my new role as Mike’s wife.
During those days we woke up early and stayed up late. We invested every bit of our youthful energy into enjoying New Orleans at its best including visiting the St. Louis Cathedral for mass on Sunday morning and walking through the Cabildo which gave me a feeling of deja vu. I would later find out from my mother’s photo album that I had been there with my parents in the long ago.
Soon it was time to return to reality. We flew back to Houston on Monday afternoon, spending our last dollar just to be able to boast that we had spared no expense for our honeymoon. We would both be getting back to work the following day, walking into a future that would take us to many unexpected places. We were two kids who thought we were grown up. Life would teach us a lesson or two about that.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 