LETTERS FROM HOME: ISLAND WEDDING: THE GROOM CRIED AND THE FISH DISAPPEARED

Aug. 2, 2001

Dear Leslie,

Sorry we missed seeing you in California. How are Scotland, Lee and Sheila? Driving through Carmel, we passed the outdoor restaurant where DC and I stopped for lunch before going to Lee and Sheila's house in the highlands to be married nearly eight years ago. I recalled for DC that she wore sunglasses and hardly spoke while we ate that day, making me wonder whom I was marrying.

Marriage was the ostensible purpose for this trip to California, too. Our niece, Monica, married an upstanding chap named Kevin at a church on Coronado Island in San Diego. Our nephews Derek and Charles, whom we've watched grow up from afar, stood in the line of handsome young pinstriped groomsmen.

Just before Monica appeared at the top of the aisle, DC took bets on who would break down first, her mother or Kevin's mother. "Uh uh," I said as the "Wedding March" began and a blonde, beaming vision lovelier than any bridal magazine cover appeared. "It's the groom." Kevin looked like he'd just seen his future flash before his eyes and was overwhelmed by the beauty of the wife and the life awaiting.

Weddings are supposed to be fairytale-like affairs, but the reality is always a bit more real. Some members of DC's family didn't like being excluded from the rehearsal dinner. I was happy to have an un-rehearsal dinner in San Diego's Old Town instead. There's plenty of time for sisterly revenge and fence-mending. DC and I have nine more nieces and nephews to marry off.

The wedding and reception, which probably cost a mid-sized car, were planned to the second, like an assignment the bride's father, a retired Navy captain, might have carried out. Each principal and bit player was issued an itinerary. All the members of the bride's mother's family -- grandparents, parents, uncles, aunts and cousins -- were to report to the reception hall to decorate at 8 a.m. the day of the wedding.

Some stood on a 12-foot ladder making girders look gauzy, some filled fishbowls with bottled water. Into the bowl on each table later would be released a rented fish called a beta. DC spent the weekend worrying about the fate of those fish. Most disappeared in the company of guests.

Sea shells scattered around the bowls and white chocolate sea shells atop the wedding cake carried out the "Message in a Bottle" theme. During the reception, an artist built a sand castle near the steps leading to the hall. Guests were invited to write a message to the couple and put it in a tiny bottle.

People watch for omens at weddings. DC's message was that Kevin crying when he saw his bride was a good sign. Maybe the bride's father dropping the top layer of the wedding cake on the floor after the reception was not, but he promises a new top layer for the couple's first anniversary.

The inextinguishable smiles on the faces of the bride and groom were the best omen of all.

Many of the males played in a golf tournament the day before the wedding. It was at the Sea N' Air Golf Course on Coronado, the course owned by the Navy. One of the aircraft carriers based in San Diego was leaving that day for a six-month mission. As we played, jet pilots practiced touch-and-go landings just beyond the course.

These pilots are said to be the proverbial different breed. I met one who had made 384 landings on aircraft carriers. He talked about the split-second decisions that sometimes must be made. I flashed back on the trouble I'd had earlier that day at the driving range, when the golf ball dispenser wouldn't stop dispensing. I froze and tried catching the hail of golf balls in my hands. One of those quick-thinking Navy men handed me another basket, looking at me like he was glad I'm a civilian.

DC says Kevin's family are like California Kennedys. They're all charming and smart and probably play touch football on the beach. At the reception, Kevin's brother and best man, K.C., eloquently outlined the tradition of marital longevity on both sides of the family. His parents and her parents have both been married more than 25 years. One set of grandparents, DC's mother and father, are at 52 years. One set of Kevin's grandparents have surpassed 60 years of marriage. They do not believe in touch-and-go landings.

Monica and Kevin are in Tahiti now. DC and I are back home in Missouri. DC was a beautiful bride, too, despite requiring, I later learned, Valium to get through the ceremony. I don't recall my future flashing before my eyes that day in the Carmel Highlands. Our future together continues to unfold. Sometimes the smiles are inextinguishable, sometimes the wedding cake falls on the floor. Often both occur on the same day.

Love, Sam

Sam Blackwell is a satff writer for the Southeast Missourian.