Transfixus Sed Non Mortuus

Here I Stand, Pierced and Transfixed

Browsing Posts tagged marriage

A Wedding Weekend

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My friends Emmanuel and Megan got married this weekend. It was one of those wedding ceremonies that was just absolutely beautiful. Rather, the couple looked beautiful. Yes, the church looked nice and the reception hall looked lovely, but they really shone. Emmanuel’s smile is very engaging, but to see him on the day of his wedding was a very new thing indeed. Contagious was his smile and his joy made me happy. he had the look of someone who had been on a long journey and had found his oasis when the sun had nearly burnt him to a crisp. Megan too had a sweet and joyful smile and her eyes truly sparkled with a freshness and zeal that I truly admired. I could see the face of God in their faces, and that gives me great hope and peace for the light that the two of them will bring to the world. I truly wish them all the best and my prayers are with them as they begin a new and gorgeous life together!

Having been married only a year and a half, I’ve recently come to the conclusion that marriage isn’t for me.

Now before you start making assumptions, keep reading.

http://sethadamsmith.com/2013/11/02/marriage-isnt-for-you/

A Few Weddings

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The past two weekends, I’ve been able to take part in a couple of weddings. One was my sister’s and this past weekend was my good friends’ (Andrew and Brittany) wedding. Both weekends were jam-packed with sheer goodness and fun. I am so very lucky to be a part of this beautiful life. It was an honor to stand up in both weddings and I am so very happy for both couples. It is truly a joy to be alive!

Here’s a couple of pictures from the Andrew and Brittany’s:

Here's some fine gents before the wedding!

Here’s some fine gents before the wedding!

The wedding ceremony

The wedding ceremony

Overlooking Lake Charlevoix

Overlooking Lake Charlevoix

The lighthouse in Charlevoix, MI

The lighthouse in Charlevoix, MI

Arranged Marriage from Nars Krishnamachari on Vimeo.

This video highlights quite a few interesting points about love, marriage, and culture. Over the past few years, I’ve really grown to realize more deeply how much a person’s outlook of the world affects their reaction to it. Specifically, I’m thinking of some relationships I’ve developed over the past year or two that have grown better or stronger (in my opinion) because I’ve been a little more willing to open my own outlook to encompass the ideas (or my perception of them) of another person. I’m also thinking about some times in my life where I have destroyed a relationship or two simply by not being more reactive to other’s reactions of the world around them. I was set in my ways, so to speak.

I find the interaction interesting in this video as well. There’s a lot about each character as the conversation develops where I want to learn more about them. My curiosity is piqued by some of the answers, but often more by the phrasing of the questions themselves. Overall, I liked this video. It produced some kind of emotional reaction within me.

This weekend was quite an excellent time for me.

First, I was able to go to my cousin Shelby’s wedding on Saturday. The mass itself was in the amazingly beautiful Holy Redeemer Church in Detroit (a few blocks off Michigan Ave). My mom, two sisters, and myself were able to bring the Walsh contingent. We arrived at Holy Redeemer quite early, so we hung out in the parking lot talking. A pack of three pit bulls sauntered by, and we got to talking about some of the wild dogs that must roam Detroit. We weren’t sure if these were wild or not, but we definitely didn’t want to take our chances on trying to catch them! They looked like they were on a mission as they went in single file across the parking lot to the dumpsters, and then moved on. It actually felt like a scene from a documentary about hyenas or something.

We went inside the church a while later, and looked around. I had been there many years ago, and it was nice to remember some of the lovely memories we had there. I had been there before heading off to the St. Patrick’s Day parades that the Walsh/Carey family always used to participate in. We had been there for some of the quinceaneras as well. I remember being taken aback by the sheer size of the church when I was a kid, and even on Saturday, I felt it was quite breathtaking.

After Mass, my family and I went to Fuddruckers because there was a three or four hour break between the Mass and the reception. We had a blast hanging out and talking. My mom parted ways with us after a few hours, so my two sisters and I hung out at the Hotel Fairlane (where the reception was to be).

While we were hanging out in one of the long ornate hallways, we saw an older couple come in. By his stride, looks, and the way he carried himself, I could tell the man was an Irish folk singer. They set up in the lobby where people were congregating before the dinner.

As he started playing, my one sister asked the other, “Isn’t that Charlie Taylor?” His voice sounded very much like him, but the other sister said, “I don’t think so.” I too remembered Charlie Taylor as a larger man with broad shoulders and belly. However, it turned out that we were mistaken. In fact, it was Charlie Taylor himself.

For those of you who don’t know, Charlie Taylor is an excellent Irish folk singer, and was a very good friend of my grandfather’s. He is classically trained in operatic singing, and has a lovely voice. My grandfather gave him his start at Walsh’s bar in Detroit many years ago.

When we found out it was him, we stood nearby for a while. When he sang “Danny Boy,” it immediately brought me back to some of the Irish funerals where he had sung that song while we were interring someone. A little later, I brought my two sisters over and we introduced ourselves to him when he finished a song. He seemed genuinely happy to see us, and said, “Oh, I remember you. Your grandfather and I had some great times!” We talked for a few minutes, and then let him get back to playing his set.

We talked to a few other interesting people, saw some relatives we hadn’t seen in years, and generally had a nice time waiting for the dining area to open.

When the dining area finally did open, we took our seats. At first, my two sisters and I were sitting all alone, but a couple who didn’t have any seats joined us named Andy and Corrine. They seemed like interesting enough folk. However, I was very excited when Charlie Taylor and his wife sat down with us!

Charlie and I talked about the Irish language and everyone soon joined in, laughing about the huge “difference” between pronunciation and they way words are spelled in Gaelic. Charlie talked about some of the moments in his life, and Andy asked about the Old Shillelagh. Charlie talked a bit about how he and another gentleman started it, though he was quick to tell us that he was the one who had come up with the name of the place.

Charlie told the girls the story of the exploding potbelly stove at Walsh’s Bar. I had heard this story before, but it was great to hear Charlie tell it. Basically a gentleman and friend of the Walshes (whose name I’ve forgotten) came in to Walsh’s Bar with a brown paper package of steaks and a few other groceries. When he wasn’t looking some practical jokers switched the steaks out of the package and replaced them with coal. However, they didn’t notice that there were two cans of soup at the bottom. As the gentleman got up to leave, they stole his brown paper package, and started tossing it around the room. They were all laughing and carrying on playing “monkey in the middle” until one clever prankster decided to throw it in the potbelly stove that heated the place. They all had a good laugh about it and explained to the gentleman that they had not actually thrown his groceries in the flame. He was greatly relieved, until a gigantic and resounding explosion rocked the whole scene. The soup cans had exploded from the extreme coal-fired heat. In fact, Charlie told me that the potbellied stove was ruined and had to be replaced.

Charlie gave us lots of other great stories and anecdotes about his life and his travels. Before I knew it, a few hours had passed. Charlie’s dinner didn’t agree with him, so he and his wife left. So, the girls and I went out on the dance floor for a while. We shook our booties and had a great time.

Before we knew it, it was much later than we had planned to stay and we said our farewells. We were able to take my cousin Margo home and talk to her for a little while longer, and then we headed back home.

I woke up the next morning very excited because it was the day of my “2011 Winter Sports Crawl.” I had been planning this event for a long time, and I was very excited. The idea behind a sports crawl is to have multiple games and sports throughout the day. In one way, it is sort of like the olympics, but the biggest difference is that its main idea is that it is a pick-up type game where anyone and everyone plays and is welcome.

We played kickball in the snow at first. We used a sled to make the “track” to roll the kickball. It was kind of fun because the kickball would sometimes jump out of the track at the last second, making the ball really hard to kick. We started out by just throwing it a few times while we waited for people to arrive, and then when we had enough for a team we played a few innings. I had a lot of fun with that!

Next, we played football in the snow. It was a lot of fun to just lay out and catch the ball. Andrew was on my team and was covering my other friend John, but John was super fast and was running some great routes. Andrew said for me to take over because John “has cleats, or at least that I’m going to tell myself.” We had a good laugh about that, but then I wasn’t laughing so much trying to keep up with John. I had a couple of good defensive plays, but that man is fast!

We then played “snow gauntlet” and “snow pie.” I had originally planned on ice skating, but no one really seemed to want to do it. So, we played the “snow pie” for a lot longer than originally planned.

When we had finished with all that, we took a break and went to dinner at my friend Robin’s house. We had pizza and pop and just hung around for a while.

Then, we went to Veteran’s Park and finished the sports crawl with some sledding. The hill was very fast and a bit icy. We decided to go to a smaller hill near the big one to avoid injury. Then, Adam and Andrew proceeded to ride a picnic table all the way down that hill! It was pretty impressive from where I stood.

A few of us went out to McDonald’s afterwards for some hot chocolate and socializing. Since, it was Sunday, we didn’t stay for too long, said our goodbyes and went on with the rest of our merry lives.

To sum up, this weekend was simply wonderful, and I am really grateful for the lovely times and memories. Even though my body took a bit of a beating and I’m still sore even now, I wouldn’t change any of it!

The Weekend

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This weekend was nothing short of amazing for me.

On Saturday, I was a groomsman in my friend Bryan’s wedding. It was really amazing to witness the love that he and Christina share, and it was such an honor to be a part of it. I really enjoyed the “pre-wedding conversation” that Bryan and I had, and overall, it was a really nice day.

The reception was also great fun. They had it at the Bauery Restaurant up at Mount Brighton (where they had their first date). Bryan contracted a few members of the band Millish to play, and they brought a few of their friends to make up a “bluegrass” band. They were a blast to dance to. I spent nearly the entire night dancing my little heart out, and generally having fun. Some of my family and friends came out, so it was great to dance with them, as well.

When I got home that evening, I just crashed and fell fast asleep. When I awoke, I was a little sore from all the cutting of ye ole rug the night before, but I stretched out and prepared for a wonderful day, for Sunday was the Third Annual Sports Crawl!

You may be asking yourself, “What is a sports crawl?” A sports crawl is an amazing event where we play multiple games/sports for an entire day. Before the day was done, we played football, sand volleyball, basketball, soccer, kickball, and light-up ultimate (in the dark). It was such an amazing time! There were about forty people that showed up throughout the day, and I had a lot of fun with everyone involved.

This morning, however, I woke up, and my muscles felt very sore, and boy was I tired. However, it was totally worth it. A weekend filled with good friends really helps keep me grateful for everything that I am blessed with.

Uncle Dan

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She can dance to the flute,
dance to the fiddle.
she’s as neat around the waist
as a cow around the middle.
Let ‘er go, let ‘er go,
you’ll find another!
There’s a lot of pretty women
at the head of Grand River.

Now the Widow Malone lived by the strand
for forty years without a man.
She danced around and she waved her fan
and set her eyes on me uncle Dan.

She can dance to the flute,
dance to the fiddle.
she’s as neat around the waist
as a cow around the middle.
Let ‘er go, let ‘er go,
you’ll find another!
There’s a lot of pretty women
at the head of Grand River.
~Irish Descendants

Now he would not listen to my advice,
so he married her there on a wintry night.
She had all the grog at the party fair
and drank every man clean under his chair.

She can dance to the flute,
dance to the fiddle.
she’s as neat around the waist
as a cow around the middle.
Let ‘er go, let ‘er go,
you’ll find another!
There’s a lot of pretty women
at the head of Grand River.

Now when he got home on his wedding night,
me uncle Dan got a hell of a fright.
She hung her leg upon the wall,
down on the floor her teeth did fall.
One glass eye, off came her hair
and down the road me uncle Dan did tear!

She can dance to the flute,
dance to the fiddle.
she’s as neat around the waist
as a cow around the middle.
Let ‘er go, let ‘er go,
you’ll find another!
There’s a lot of pretty women
at the head of Grand River.

Now they claim he ran to France or Spain
and sent a letter home to her sayin’
“Darling, if you ever need another man,
you can’t count me out, Love, Uncle Dan”

She can dance to the flute,
dance to the fiddle.
she’s as neat around the waist
as a cow around the middle.
Let ‘er go, let ‘er go,
you’ll find another!
There’s a lot of pretty women
at the head of Grand River.

She can dance to the flute,
dance to the fiddle.
she’s as neat around the waist
as a cow around the middle.
Let ‘er go, let ‘er go,
you’ll find another!
There’s a lot of pretty women
at the head of Grand River.

The morning light pours wide
on the white kitchen walls.
His arms wrap ’round her side,
while her heavy head falls.

Tired of her life’s demands
with a baby on board.
There’s a plate in her hands,
its golden lines ignored.

He says,
“The radio’s playing
It won’t be for long
Come, take a dance with me,
for the sake of the song.”

As night crosses the floor,
the living room is clean.
He comes in through the door,
she sees that she is seen.

Right now, she’s not pretty,
frustrations wreck her mind.
She searches for pity,
but just sees his eyes, kind.

He says,
“No radio’s playing
but come and sing along.
Then, just dance here with me,
for the sake of the song.”

As the years turn the leaves,
they rise, fall, love, and dance.
Soon, a wrinkle’s trace weaves
from her forehead to his glance.

He smiles, shakes his white head.
He sees young eyes and heart
trapped in a doctor’s bed,
and he knows they will part.

He says,
“We have been playing
together for so long.
Let’s just play we’re dancing
for the sake of the song.”

Lies

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At last the kids are gone now for the day.
She reaches for the coffee as the school bus pulls away.
Another day to tend the house and plan
For Friday at the Legion when she’s dancing with her man.

Sure was a bitter winter but Friday will be fine,
And maybe last year’s Easter dress will serve her one more time.
She’d pass for twenty-nine but for her eyes.
But winter lines are telling wicked lies.

All lies.
All those lines are telling wicked lies.
Lies all lies.
Too many lines there in that face;
Too many to erase or disguise;
They must be telling lies.

Is this the face that won for her the man
Whose amazed and clumsy fingers placed that ring upon her hand?
No need to search that mirror for the years.
The menace in their message shouts across the blur of tears.

So this is Beauty’s finish. Like Rodin’s “Belle Heauimiere”,
The pretty maiden trapped lost inside the ranch wife’s toil and care.
Well, after seven kids, that’s no surprise,
But why cannot her mirror tell her lies.

All lies.
All those lines are telling wicked lies.
Lies all lies.
Too many lines there in that face;
Too many to erase or disguise;
They must be telling lies.

Then she shakes off the bitter web she wove,
And turns to set the mirror, gently, face down by the stove.
She gathers up her apron in her hand,
Pours another coffee, drips Carnation from the can,
And thinks ahead to Friday, ’cause Friday will be fine!
She’ll look up in that weathered face that loves hers, line for line,
To see the maiden shining in his eyes
And laugh at how her mirror tells her lies.

All lies.
All those lines are telling wicked lies.
Lies all lies.
Too many lines there in that face;
Too many to erase or disguise;
They must be telling lies.

~Stan Rogers