Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Wedding on the Ohio River


Marietta, Ohio, is a town filled with history. Named after Marie Antoinette in 1788, it was the first settlement of the Northwest Territory, and its many historical markers honor early forts, shipbuilders, steamboats, and the first white woman to set foot in the place. It is small town of broad streets, lovely old houses, and expansive lawns. The perfect place for a wedding.

The wedding guests drove hours to get here. The ones from Pennsylvania wove their way south and west through Ohio mill towns and farmland, while we drove west and north over at least three mountain ranges. Blue Ridge. Shenandoah. Allegheny. Deep green forests with mist rising from the treetops into the gray, rainy skies. It was a long, wet journey, but one we all happily make when old friends marry off a child.

Fortunately, the day of the wedding was cloudless and warm, and St. Mary Catholic Church, stunning in its size and Old World grandeur, was air-conditioned. The ceremony was so flawless no one could have guessed the behind-the-scenes drama: the bridesmaid’s dress that landed in Vermont instead of West Virginia and the bee that attacked the bride’s mother. It had turned into a perfect day, and we were proud, because this child, this young, beautiful bride, was the youngest of our collective children, the baby we all watched grow up. We had to be there.

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