There was no wedding, but one hell of a reception.
Saturday, Nov. 8, 2025. My niece Bryce celebrates her
wedding to Zak. They eloped and got hitched, as my grandparents might have said.
They wanted it that way, Bryce’s mom Nancy said. She is my sister-in-law, widow,
high-school sweetheart of my brother Dan
who died at 60 from blood cancer. That was 12 years ago. He never got to see
his daughter go to college, get engaged, and set off on a new life. But I did.
His older brother, his childhood pal and mentor. I saw it all from afar, from
Wyoming. And now I am back on home turf.
The reception was held under a massive marquee tent on The
Casement grounds along the Halifax River in Ormond Beach. It was a gorgeous
November night, beautiful sunset and warm breezes. The Grenada Bridge begins at
property’s edge and rises majestically west over the Halifax River and butts up
against mainland Ormond and its fine library. The bridge is crowded with
weekend motorists off to their own dinners and receptions. Someone is off to
the ER in a wailing ambulance. It’s loud here, the most traveled stretch of
Ormond Beach. But picture perfect..
That’s why John D. Rockefeller chose this site for his
Florida digs. He entertained guests at The Casements, so known for its
innovative window design that allowed plenty of air to circulate in the pre-AC
years. Rockefeller played host to celebrities such as Will Rogers and
industrialists such as Henry Ford. They too had a chance to escape their
winters for a short while. Florida lore is filled with tales of snowbirds.
Across the street, Rockefeller built the Ormond Hotel. It
went to seed after John D’s death in 1937. Replaced by condos, an oft-told
Florida story. But The Casements remain. Its splendid lawn is where Chris and I
picnic watching free concerts in the winter and spring. The spacious porch
hosts the bands. Its nine acres are a historic site and the house is a museum.
To the north of the marquee tent are the caterers. They
cook paella (seafood and chicken varieties) and steaming bowls of seasoned
rice. I enjoyed my chicken pae4lla and wonder why paella and not a barbecue or
shrimp boil. I consider this a fine choice as I eat everything on my plate. I
drink soda water and look around at this mostly young crowd most of whom are
drinking alcoholic beverages. They are a spiritous and spirited bunch. Mostly
strangers, but friends of the happy couple and their families. I run into my
old friend Tommy who had a stroke and walks with a cane. Tommy and I reminisce
about a trip we took long ago. My girlfriend and I lived in Boston and we were
walking back to our apartment on Beacon Hill when I spotted Tommy walking down
the street. The next day we hitched rides to Vermont to see his friend Danny
who made marijuana pipes. I was 21 and so was he and we both hitched many rides
in those days. When I returned to Boston, I started a new job. We were both
younger then than most of the people at this gathering are now. We are still here.
My niece and her husband threw a magnificent party. We joined
in Jewish champagne toasts – l’chaim! -- from the groom’s
family and the bride and groom were hoisted in chairs onto the dance floor in
the traditional hora ceremony.
Chris and I pose for goofy photos at my niece’s photo
booth. I have to make a stop at the Ben & Jerry’s ice cream cart. I
accompany my wife to the dance floor. I put the e-scooter in neutral and we
move about. She loves to dance. We recently decided no more “sitting this one
out” for me. We rock and weave to The Village People, slow-dance to Neil
Young’s “Harvest Moon.” I try to match her natural rhythm to my machine glide.
So good to be close.
We had a lovely time.
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