Browsed by
Author: Anne Cassidy

Rear View Mirror

Rear View Mirror

As the wedding passes into memory, keepsake images flit through my brain. One I keep coming back to is the rear-view-mirror glimpse of the newlyweds as I pulled away from their house last Monday.

I had driven them home after the big festivities, and they were making sure I got safely on my way. I glimpsed at the mirror to see them put their arms around each other and stroll back to the house. It was the perfect coda to a celebration of love and family, and just one of the moments I treasure.

Funny thing, making memories. When you’re young the memories seem unimportant. It’s the experiences that matter. But as you grow (ahem!) older, you realize that experiences are fleeting — and it’s memories that endure. They are the rich rear view mirror of life, a procession of images to relive and cherish.

A Gift

A Gift

Yesterday’s walk from the Rayburn Building to L’Enfant Metro was bright and breezy. It was after 11, and the lunch trucks were already attracting a crowd. I strolled passed the west lawn of the Capitol, down Independence, past the Bartholdi Fountain, under renovation (wasn’t it just under renovation a couple of years ago?), along the backside of the Botanical Gardens, their glass windows and dome vaguely Victorian in look and appeal. I passed the American Indian Museum, its sinuous curves and yellow stone a standout in a town of angular white buildings.

It was warm but the air was moving, and it blew the hair off my face. I doffed my jacket and swung it along.

This was no recreational amble. It was a functional walk, a path from A to B, from a work function to the office. But it felt liberating to be out in the late morning bustle. A gift.

It was D.C., it was still summer, it was a good walk.

Without a Net

Without a Net

The tent is down, and the trampoline is back in its regular spot.  But the net is not yet up around it. Which means that last night’s bounce was not only in the gloaming but also in the open.

I know the net that surrounds the trampoline is window-dressing at best. It won’t stop a hard roll or an errant flip.

But I’m the tamest of trampers. I bounce up and down, up and down. I might do a little air conducting if Brahms or Mozart has me by the collar, but otherwise I’m a cautious bouncer.

Still, I felt a bit daring last night as I jumped for 20 minutes without a net. Not quite ready for the circus yet, but liberated just the same.

(Illustration: Wikipedia)

After Labor Day

After Labor Day

How quickly one gets used to the unregulated life. Even though last week’s wedding preparations kept me crazy busy I was able to complete the tasks on my own time and in my own way. The work world demands a regimentation I’ve taken great pains to avoid.

It’s why I became a teacher after college graduation. I figured out that I could stand nine highly regulated months if I could have three highly unregulated ones to make up for it.

Today I feel the back-to-work burden in my soul. Maybe it’s because I’m still half-exhausted from the wedding. Or maybe it’s because on the day after Labor Day, the traditional back-to-school day, regimentation is in the very air we breathe.

Since I just completed a major project it feels like this should be at the beginning of relaxation not the end of it.  But when the work engrosses, these feelings pass. And it will. I just have to give it time.

The Wedding

The Wedding

I didn’t give a toast on Saturday night. But this is what I would have said if I did. I would have riffed on the saying “it takes a village to make a child.” I would have said that it also takes a village to make a wedding. Everything from the rehearsal dinner on Friday to the dog watching and wedding photography on Saturday was provided by friends or friends of friends.

The marriage itself, of course, is up to the two people involved. But a community has now witnessed Suzanne and Appolinaire’s vows. And I could feel the love and support of that community swell up behind me as I sat in the front row watching my daughters, all three of them, walk down the aisle of mulch that we laid only a few weeks ago (again, with the help of family and friends). That love and support is like money in the bank for the young couple, something they can draw on through years of life together.

There is much to say about all of this. Too much. My heart is full right now.

But while the tent is still up (the rental company comes for it today) and the magic is still fresh, let me just say that the backyard will be forever transformed by the presence of those we love who came (some from as far away as Paris) to celebrate with us. Dear family, neighbors who watched Suzanne grow up, friends from high school and college and work and childrearing. Appolinaire’s best man Fidel, who grew up in a village not far from him and speaks the same mother tongue.

The big events of life rise up like tall peaks through the fog of daily living. You plan for them, work for them and often wonder if they’re worth the effort. But once they happen (and even as they’re happening if you’re lucky, in moments or snatches of moments), you know they’re worth every penny, every hour. Because they stop time; they define and sanctify the everyday.

The wedding is behind us now. But it’s all around us, too. And it always will be.

The Big Top

The Big Top

The transformation is almost complete. Yesterday, four men spent five hours putting up this tent, hammering down the wooden floor, stringing the lights, installing the fans, carting tables, tablecloths, plates, cutlery and more to the backyard or the garage.

Yesterday we planted mums, bought food, made favor bags for the guests. Today we’ll prepare for tonight’s dinner, pick up the beer kegs, move furniture, decorate.

Guests are arriving, family is congregating. Now comes what should be the easiest part but is often the most difficult: enjoying it all.

The tent is helping. Part fairy tale castle and part big-top wonder, it takes us out of the everyday, reminds us of another world — one of ease and jollity and joy.

The Errands

The Errands

It’s been a long hot summer, and September has dawned cool and rainy. The plants are lapping it up. The parched soil is getting a well-earned dousing.

The mums I’ve stored in the basement are up on the deck now, awaiting final placement but getting sprinkled with the real thing rather than a cup of water.

And here at Wedding Central, we’re about to run a zillion errands. Homo Errandus, the errand-running human. In and out of the car, in and out of stores, always with the list in hand. The bible. Crossing things off, blessed relief.

Here we go.

Clean House

Clean House

Some days start slowly and quietly, sipping tea while writing a post. Others start with a  brisk walk, or an early getaway to the office to beat the crowds on Metro.

Most days don’t start with three strangers scouring my bathroom.

But that’s how the day has started. Little time for rumination. It’s all about action now, and not forgetting what I was doing before I went to add an item to the master list for hundredth time.

Still, it’s a wonderful thing, having other people clean your house. I could get used to it.

Making Waves

Making Waves

These are crazy days. Buying cases of wine at 9 p.m. Forgetting my lunch.  Making lists of lists.

Still, the mind observes. Even when in crazy mode, the mind is active, laughing at its own craziness and finding the world an interesting place to be.

This morning on the radio, I heard a segment on artificial waves, how a company has been perfecting them, will sell its technology to indoor wave pools, the estates of sheikhs. Few details of this report have remained in my brain, but one phrase did. “We’re carving water,” said the wave creator.

The poetry of that sets the mind to spinning.  An ultimately futile task, one would think. And yet someone makes a living from it.

What do you do? I make waves.

Summer, Still

Summer, Still

These are the bonus days of summer. Every warm afternoon, every sliver moon peeping through the trees as it rises in the sultry August sky. Every thin crescent moon that sees us through till morning.

Summer has been hot this year, and I haven’t minded. It’s warmed my bones, and if it keeps warming them a few more weeks, I won’t complain.

It hasn’t been the most relaxing summer. Creating a backyard wedding venue has taken care of that. But it has been rich in people and in feeling and will not be easily forgotten.

The day lilies are drooping now, the cone flowers are fading. There are a dozen mum plants cooling their heels in the house. They’ll be planted when the temperature dips below 90.

Until then, until next Tuesday for sure, it is still gloriously, indisputably … summer.