The Wedding: Part 1

The Wedding: Part I, the specifics

For the last 30 years, Steve has lived his life in detail on the radio. Of late, he has pulled back a little, respecting the boys’ adulthood, and acknowledging that maybe the mundane nature of our days does not provide much entertainment value. I think I can still amuse and inform, but he has a crew he counts on to do these jobs. He has chosen to maintain a distance regarding Pat’s recent wedding, but of course, I cannot. Pat’s conception was announced on the air, even before my mom had heard I was pregnant. His birth, complete with squalling and comforting, was heard the afternoon after Pat made his way into the world. I believe that this circle should be closed for our radio ‘family’.

Pat and Rachel met in high school. They never dated in those years, because Pat was a bit of an outlaw, and Rachel was the quintessential student. Their orbits did not overlap too much, but Rachel was on Pat’s radar. Her excellent academics sent her to Denison in Ohio, and Pat’s fine mind pushed him to Northwestern. During a Christmas break, Pat finessed a date with Rachel for breakfast. Soon he was sneaking a kiss on the median strip of Michigan Avenue, and they have dated ever since. Rachel moved to LA about two years ago to test their ability to co-exist in proximity. They miss Chicago fiercely, but they have decided to hang in for awhile and see if Pat can break the celluloid ceiling while Rachel teaches school. Against this backdrop, Pat took Rachel back to Michigan Avenue last year to ask her to marry him.

A year later, the weekend after Christmas, our families and friends gathered to witness the wedding of Pat and Rachel. Friday’s snow had challenged the Detroit part of the congregation. Grandpa Tom was stranded at Metropolitan Airport. He was cancelled, rebooked, headed over to Midway Airport, then was sent back to Detroit. At 83, he hitched a ride from the airport with my sister. After what amounted to a 13-hour commute, he switched cars and headed downtown for the rehearsal dinner at Smith and Wollensky. He says the festivities were worth the work.

The wedding was Saturday, December 29 at the First Congregational Church of LaGrange. Rachel was a radiant bride in a strapless winter white lace dress- a classic dress for a classic beauty. She wore her Mother’s veil. She had 7 bridesmaids; her sister Rebecca was her maid of honor. They wore navy blue tea length dresses, and every single bridesmaid looked perfect. Pat was handsome, too, of course. Mike and Matt were co-best men. They took the job seriously: Mike fed the 5 groomsmen, they practiced and polished their toast, and they made sure Pat was on time. (No small feat) I was proud of all my men. Steve was the point man: he performed a hundred punch-list items to perfection, kept me calm after our sadness about Terry (with some help from sedation so I could sleep) and he even danced with me a time or two. After the ceremony, the newlyweds exited under a canopy of giant sparklers.

Here are some basics:

The reception was in the ballroom at the Hyatt Lodge at McDonald’s Campus- a fabulous place for a wedding. (Thanks Marty and Angie)

There were passed appetizers and a martini bar before the reception

Flowers were pink and white with little lanterns in twigs above the tables

All stationery items (invitations, menus, programs) were ‘branded’ with snowflakes, and embellished with amazing calligraphy.

Pat made matching stamps.

My friends and I made 300 snowflake ornaments for each place setting out of crystals.

There were luminaria ringing the driveway

Bridesmaids wore navy blue, groomsmen, black tuxes with silver vests.

I had a dress made, was uncomfortable in it, and ended up buying a long green skirt and black velvet top at Loehman’s- which I loved. They had an old-fashioned photo booth, and every guest could keep a strip in a bookmark favor

Dinner was tomato bisque, hearts of palm with garden greens, chicken breast in a white fontina cheese and basil sauce with potatoes and asparagus.

There was an amazing sweet table as well as a snowflake cake.

The band-best band ever, The Gentlemen of Leisure, kept every guest dancing. (Worth every dollar!)

At 10:30, McDonalds burgers, fries and shake shooters were served.

Wedding photos of all the parents, grandparents and great-grandparents were placed on the piano- not one of these couples ever divorced. (A good omen)

Chad Husar was the photographer- and I have seen his shots, and love shines through. They are luminous.

My family had brunch on Sunday, and POOF! They were on the road.

The kids went on a Chicago photo tour the next day and took relaxed pictures here and there- including upon the median strip on Michigan Avenue.

Off they went to Secrets in Riviera Maya, and then home to California

We are still basking in the glow.

The kids worked for a year to create a day that was welcoming and special. They succeeded. A magical time was had by all.

How this makes me feel? Next time...

(See more photos, Click Here)

Goodbye Terry

It is Friday evening, January 4. Words have not come to me this week, to describe the bitter and sweet emotional roller coaster that the Dahl family has been riding. They fail me still. I will soldier on here, in my clumsy way. I cannot mingle my joy at the wedding of my firstborn with my despair at the passing of Terry Armour, and so today I will simply try to say a sad goodbye.

Last Friday Steve was collecting snow-delayed relatives to bring them to the rehearsal dinner when the boys noticed Terry’s picture on the television at Smith and Wollensky. A few taps on their I-phones brought us the inconceivable news. Steve knew already, but had hoped to impose a news blackout for me so that I could celebrate. And so as we toasted the newlyweds to be, Steve locked himself in the manager’s office, to process this impossibility, and to write some sort of remembrance. Terry had just recently dined at S & W, and I’m pretty sure he did not want Steve to miss his dinner. I am also sure he would have been amazed and tickled at all the glasses that were raised to his beloved persona during the past week. Still, it is hard to find much comfort in the premature departure of such a joy-bringer. The world is so much emptier without him.

Terry was a writer, and his friends write better than I could dream of stringing words. I cannot say one single thing that has not been said better. So I will just repeat what has been said before. Terry was a gift to those who encountered him. He slaved at his job, and then slaved again to make it look easy. I have never heard him say an unkind word about a friend or a competitor- even Jay Mariotti. He knew life was too short for baggage. He just did not know how short. He loved his mother and his family unfailingly. He lit up when he spoke of family events, and he wanted to make his Mom proud of him. I just met her under these desperate circumstances. Her name is Elaine- my mom’s name. She is a beautiful, throbbing energy cell- like Terry. I believe she demanded achievement from her family, and it is a wonderful group of people. She laughs readily, welcomes instantly, and probably could see through Terry’s youthful mischief with X-ray eyes. She is a force to be reckoned with. Terry leaves behind his gentle and beautiful wife, LaNell. Terry loved her so fast, and was scared of messing up when he was courting her. He wanted the aura of raconteur to apply to him. Not only could LaNell see through his bluster, she was fearless. She saw his marshmallow soul. She let him win her. In her love, Terry found the peace that eluded him as he traipsed after the Bulls, or hit the late night scene to report on the latest spots. He was centered. They adopted Kramer, a canine whom I have not had the fortune of meeting, and they were putting down new roots. I know Terry was going to be back on the radio somewhere. His talent was undeniable, his energy boundless, and his happiness infectious. He loved being busy. We all loved being near him so we could catch a dose of Armour-love. We are all poorer for the reduced dose we will receive.

Terry loved his life-sized cutouts, and he dragged various cardboard “friends” into his radio studio every day, so he could be in the company of celebrities. My son decided to prank him once, and he “kidnapped” Katarina Witt, made a copy and pretended to behead her. Terry was apoplectic- first about the alleged destruction, and later, that he had been pranked. He threatened to show up at DePaul’s graduation, and promised to swoon and scream about his “son” making good. Last spring, as Matt graduated, I looked and listened for him. Now I will always be looking for him, missing him. I just might make myself a life sized Terry.

Someday it will be easier to be grateful for having known him, than heartsick for losing him. That day is not today.

I will be back soon with the sweet to balance this bitter- Pat’s wedding. Stay tuned.