My Brother's Wedding

The logistics of our trip to the East Coast last weekend for my little brother's wedding were not ideal considering we had two little ones with us.  We flew in and out in barely a 48-hour's timeframe and stayed at a bed and breakfast with lots of breakable antiques.  While the weekend was tiring and went by too quickly, it was a joy and the only damage to the bed and breakfast in our wake were some chocolate stains on the comforter left behind by the kids' granola bars. 

My brother, Scott, and his new wife, Stevie, married at the YMCA camp in Medford, New Jersey my brother had worked at for years.  They held the ceremony at the outdoor chapel on a little island on the edge of the main lake.  A short bridge and a narrow, winding trail worn down to expose tree roots by the feet of a 100 summers' worth of campers lead us to the open-air chapel, which consisted of benches facing a simple wooden cross and stone altar, with the lake as a back-drop.   

My brother the outdoorsman set off from the swimming beach on the opposite shore and canoed to the chapel. Against the recommendation of his best man who could see no sign of the bride across the shore, Scott set off in his canoe a few minutes before the start of the 4:00 p.m. ceremony.  Unfortunately, the ceremony ran a little behind schedule.  The wedding party stood lined up across the bridge and at one point the frantic wedding planning hissed in her walkie-talkie to her co-planner that she had no idea where the bride was.  Meanwhile, over the bridge at the chapel, Chris was desperately trying to keep the kids from digging in the dirt after he'd exhausted every snack and diversion. I had begged (well, demanded) that Chris keep the kids clean through the ceremony and pictures and that was looking less and less like a reality and the ceremony hadn't even started yet.  The bride eventually arrived, and even though Chris had to leave mid-ceremony with our restless kids, the rest of the ceremony went off without a hitch. 

The ceremony itself was not only beautiful, but so was the weather.  Scott FINALLY broke the spell of bad weather at Partenheimer weddings.  It snowed so much the night before my parents' wedding that the minister couldn't make it, it rained so much for my wedding that we had to move the ceremony from the tent to the sturdier shelter of a barn and when my dad married Debbie it rained so hard that the power went out and I thought we were going to have a reception by candlelight.  In contrast, the weather the entire weekend of Scott and Stevie's wedding could only be described as glorious.  Spring was in full bloom, the sky wasn't marred by a single cloud and the days were warm and the evenings cool. 

Even if the weather was perfect, my Uncle Gary, who officiated Scott and Stevie's wedding, (as well as mine and my dad's) warns everyone he marries that something always goes wrong (but that you'll still think your wedding was the best that ever occurred).  If something was to go wrong, I thought the obvious scenario was the canoe tipping.  But sometimes, what goes wrong is that the minister falls off the stage.  Really. 

Luckily the ceremony had already finished.  We had wished Scott and Stevie well and as they canoed away and I was just about to breathe a sigh of relief that my brother had pulled off such an unconventional exit without dropping his new bride in the lake, when my uncle stepped off the stage, put his foot on the edge of the step, (which wasn't nailed into the stage) flipped the step upside down and then wedged his foot into the open side of the step as he tumbled into the crowd of guests.  Miraculously, he wasn't hurt (and my grandmother didn't have a heart attack) and classic Uncle Gary, laughed his misstep off as the best man frantically pulled him back to his feet and dusted him off.   

Scott's wedding was a time to celebrate with family, but it was also a chance for me to reconnect with my childhood.  I had lived in Medford until we moved to Haddonfield when I was in high school, and while my husband and kids have visited both Haddonfield and Ambler where my dad grew up, (my grandmother still lives there) Medford in completely unknown to them. 

Since we had taken such an early flight from Minneapolis, when we arrived in Medford the day of the rehearsal, we still had much of the day ahead of us.  Our bed and breakfast was a huge Victorian home on Main Street. Before trying to put Soren down for a nap, we let the kids run around outside since it was so gorgeous outside.  Since spring still hadn't bloomed in Minnesota, (and it would actually snow again after we got home) I couldn't get over the sight of gardens full of color, lush, green lawns and dogwood trees covered in pink flowers.  I brought my camera outside and although I probably annoyed my husband and kids to no end, I had a lot of fun taking pictures of the kids dressed in t-shirts (and not winter parks, hats, gloves and so on) against the backdrop of greenery and historic buildings.

We walked towards the Main Street Meeting House, which I knew had a huge lawn in front of it where the kids could run around away from the threat of traffic. The kids brought the little bulldozers and dump trucks we'd stashed in their carry-on and they contently sat in the sunshine pushing little piles of dirt around.  Since Medford Monthly Meeting relocated to the Union Street Meeting House in 1984, I have few memories of the Main Street Meeting House.  But of the few memories, one was playing on the lawn with the other kids from the meeting.  It was sweet to flashforward nearly 30 years and watch my own children play.  Aside from the boards covering the windows, the building and grounds looked exactly as I remembered it.  Since there aren't enough Quakers anymore to fill two meeting houses, this one mostly sat empty since we left it in 1984 and I was happy to see the sign announcing the building was to become the new Medford Arts Center. 

When Soren and Chris went to take naps, Oliver and I walked through town and looked around.  I had forgotten how cute and quaint Medford Village is, especially in the spring. We stopped in a toy store where I picked up some new things to occupy the kids at the rehearsal and then a cafe where Oliver ordered a chocolate chip cookie as big as his face.  I enjoyed talking to the shop owners because, believe it or not, I couldn't get enough of the South Jersey accents!  To me, that's the sound of home and my childhood.

The last stop was the Union Street Meeting House that I grew up in. I think the last time I was there was for my mom's memorial service, so although a bittersweet homecoming, being there was peaceful. I enjoyed being able to bring my son back to a place that was a fixture of my childhood.  We walked the grounds and discovered a playground, something they didn't have when I was a kid, and Oliver was so happy to be able to play.

After naps, we drove over to the camp for the rehearsal and dinner.  You would never think that a coastal state would remind me of Minnesota, but as we drove past the little lake homes, it reminded me of a denser version of Northern Minnesota, except the camp pretty much sat in the middle of suburbia.  While we waited for the rehearsal to begin, we walked down to the shore of the lake where my kids could have spent the rest of the weekend throwing rocks in the water.  Except for the sandy soil of the Pine Barrens at my feet, I could have been looking out across a lake in Minnesota. 

The weekend was tiring and wonderful all at the same time. Wonderful that we were able to spend time with family, both as a family of four after Chris's time away from home due to work trips and as an extended family. And of course wonderful that we were witnesses to Scott and Stevie's marriage. But tiring in that we left on a 7:10 a.m. flight and the kids were too excited to nap and stayed up too late both nights.  It was worth it though for the memories it created of the kids dancing and playing with their cousins, of eight-year-old Zachary entertaining a delighted Soren with countless games of Peekaboo, of my brother dancing to Ella Fitzgerald with our grandmother and of welcoming a new member to the family, Stevie, the love of my brother's life.