family history, part eight
Uncle Randolph had his orders. He was to board a troop transport bound for 'nam at Andrews Air Force Base at 0600 hours on the morning of Friday, November 12, 1965.
Grandma Milly, God rest her soul, absolutely freaked out. Her darling Randolph was leaving the safety of the states for the risks and horrors of a war zone. She was furious with Old Grandad for letting it happen and putting profit over their son's protection. And oh, the gnashing and wailing of tears when she realized that Randolph would not be at the wedding of Roosevelt and Catherine.
It was going to be beautiful, it was going to be almost perfect, and it was scheduled for December 18. Grandma Milly, God rest her soul, loved Christmas and she loved weddings.
It was bad enough for Grandma Milly, God rest her soul, that the complicated issues of faith involved in the joining of Episcopal and Jewish families had yet to be resolved. The marriage was to be a civil ceremony, performed by a judge in his courtroom.
She had barely recovered from the disappointment that the vain and conceited society women from her church tea circle and Bible class would not be watching with envy from the middle church pews as she went gloriously by in her fabulous designer mother of the groom gown.
Now Uncle Randolph was going to miss it.
And after all she went through arguing and antagonizing Old Grandad to persuade him to allow Uncle Randolph's rather unique role in the first place. She would not allow those efforts to be in vain. Uncle Randolph's absence from the wedding was an affront to the family that Grandma Milly, God rest her soul, would not allow to stand.
So she prodded, poked, persuaded and provoked Old Grandad until he agreed to moving the date and location of the wedding. Calls were made and invitations were hastily remailed. Roosevelt and Catherine were set to be married prior to Uncle Randolph's departure in the lobby of the Exclusive Executive Men's Club.
The wedding was to be held in the lobby, because Old Grandad refused to violate the sanctity of his good ol' boy network and allow women into The Club. Not even for his son's wedding. What a dick.
And then of course, there was the issue of Uncle Randolph.
Uncle Randolph was very excited to learn that his older brother was going to be married. He could not wait to be part of a wedding party. Being the brother of a the groom, you might typically expect him to be a groomsman, or perhaps Best Man even. Not Handy Randy.
He insisted on being a bridesmaid.
Old Grandad was aghast, but again, Grandma Milly, God rest her soul, was insistent. Old Grandad didn't give squat about weddings in the first place, for him they were womenly affairs, and this was only a silly ceremony to seal a business deal. He caved in exchange for peace and quiet at home. He really didn't give a damn who dressed how so long as they kept it out of the papers.
Catherine, my mother, was almost as excited as Randolph at his wish to be a bridesmaid. The two had developed a close relationship during the course of her courtship with my father, The Bastard. She considered Randolph to be the sister she never had.
Catherine, my mother, always had an affinity for those types of people, you know, the homosexuals. She seemed quite empathetic to their plight. This really comes as no surprise. After all, she went to Vassar.
(A couple years back when my siblings and I finally got around to sorting through her things, we found an old shoebox buried behind a stack of sweaters in the back of her bedroom closet. The shoebox was full of old letters. Those letters confirmed what we had always suspected. Catherine, my mother, spent much of her college years dabbling in the mysterious ways of mono-gender love.)
So with little debate and much enthusiasm all agreed that Uncle Randolph was to be a bridesmaid.
"Only a bridesmaid, never a bride" he was overheard to say with glee many times when discussing the upcoming nuptials.
While no one who is remotely sane or sober would ever think him more beautiful than the bride, I have seen the photos.
In his silk bridesmaid dress Uncle Randolph looked absolutely fabulous.
Grandma Milly, God rest her soul, absolutely freaked out. Her darling Randolph was leaving the safety of the states for the risks and horrors of a war zone. She was furious with Old Grandad for letting it happen and putting profit over their son's protection. And oh, the gnashing and wailing of tears when she realized that Randolph would not be at the wedding of Roosevelt and Catherine.
It was going to be beautiful, it was going to be almost perfect, and it was scheduled for December 18. Grandma Milly, God rest her soul, loved Christmas and she loved weddings.
It was bad enough for Grandma Milly, God rest her soul, that the complicated issues of faith involved in the joining of Episcopal and Jewish families had yet to be resolved. The marriage was to be a civil ceremony, performed by a judge in his courtroom.
She had barely recovered from the disappointment that the vain and conceited society women from her church tea circle and Bible class would not be watching with envy from the middle church pews as she went gloriously by in her fabulous designer mother of the groom gown.
Now Uncle Randolph was going to miss it.
And after all she went through arguing and antagonizing Old Grandad to persuade him to allow Uncle Randolph's rather unique role in the first place. She would not allow those efforts to be in vain. Uncle Randolph's absence from the wedding was an affront to the family that Grandma Milly, God rest her soul, would not allow to stand.
So she prodded, poked, persuaded and provoked Old Grandad until he agreed to moving the date and location of the wedding. Calls were made and invitations were hastily remailed. Roosevelt and Catherine were set to be married prior to Uncle Randolph's departure in the lobby of the Exclusive Executive Men's Club.
The wedding was to be held in the lobby, because Old Grandad refused to violate the sanctity of his good ol' boy network and allow women into The Club. Not even for his son's wedding. What a dick.
And then of course, there was the issue of Uncle Randolph.
Uncle Randolph was very excited to learn that his older brother was going to be married. He could not wait to be part of a wedding party. Being the brother of a the groom, you might typically expect him to be a groomsman, or perhaps Best Man even. Not Handy Randy.
He insisted on being a bridesmaid.
Old Grandad was aghast, but again, Grandma Milly, God rest her soul, was insistent. Old Grandad didn't give squat about weddings in the first place, for him they were womenly affairs, and this was only a silly ceremony to seal a business deal. He caved in exchange for peace and quiet at home. He really didn't give a damn who dressed how so long as they kept it out of the papers.
Catherine, my mother, was almost as excited as Randolph at his wish to be a bridesmaid. The two had developed a close relationship during the course of her courtship with my father, The Bastard. She considered Randolph to be the sister she never had.
Catherine, my mother, always had an affinity for those types of people, you know, the homosexuals. She seemed quite empathetic to their plight. This really comes as no surprise. After all, she went to Vassar.
(A couple years back when my siblings and I finally got around to sorting through her things, we found an old shoebox buried behind a stack of sweaters in the back of her bedroom closet. The shoebox was full of old letters. Those letters confirmed what we had always suspected. Catherine, my mother, spent much of her college years dabbling in the mysterious ways of mono-gender love.)
So with little debate and much enthusiasm all agreed that Uncle Randolph was to be a bridesmaid.
"Only a bridesmaid, never a bride" he was overheard to say with glee many times when discussing the upcoming nuptials.
While no one who is remotely sane or sober would ever think him more beautiful than the bride, I have seen the photos.
In his silk bridesmaid dress Uncle Randolph looked absolutely fabulous.
posted by dr noyz @ 10:07 PM
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