Someone Got Married

I think this picture was taken on Friday night. Lis was getting the wedding cake ready for its crumb coat or whatever you call it. It's quite a process. The cake layer must be sliced, which she does fearlessly and accurately, and then frosted smoothly to prepare it for its final frosting and decoration. I had not seen her sit down from the time I got there Friday afternoon until she may have sat down around ten at night to eat a bowl of soup. Honestly.

I can't begin to tell you how hard Lon and Lis worked to pull off this wedding. And here's the funny thing- they did the wedding for love.
They prepared their yard for the ceremony, for parking, for music playing. They prepared their house, cleaning it to within inch of its life. They made a place for the bride to get ready. Lis's kitchen, which is not the biggest kitchen in the world by any means, was filled and busy and used for days and days and days getting the food ready, the cake baked. They arranged for the tent rental and chair rental and dish and glass and cutlery rental.
They did all of this and so much more.
And it was a beautiful wedding.

Well, I didn't attend the actual ceremony. I was baking biscuits. The ceremony was so quick that I had a batch of biscuits in the oven when the bride left to go get married and they weren't done by the time the bride came back to the house.
"Are you already married?" I asked her in astonishment, holding open the door. Not quite the words I would have used if I had thought about it for more than one-hundredth of a second.
"Yes," she said, and I said, "Well! Congratulations!"

Honeys, it was hot.
And although the wedding party was not the most formally dressed in the world, there were ties and jackets and long pants and pretty dresses and of course underwear had to be worn under all of that and a lot of these people were from up north and I doubt they'd ever experienced quite this level of heat combined with humidity outside of a sauna. I mean, WE were wilting and bitching.

The groom is from a family of ten siblings. TEN. And they were all there. Plus others. This family has adopted (or more accurately, BEEN adopted by) Lon and Lis who are obviously crazy. I mean, if I'm going to adopt a family, I think there's a two-sibling limit. Lon and Lis first met their older brother whose name, if I named it, many would recognize as a founding member of a band that all of you would recognize but which I will not be naming because I am NOT a name dropper nor a celebrity hound (unless you count my shameless name-dropping of Lon and Lis Williamson who are HUGE celebrities in my book and who should be in everyone's but that's another story) and so he will remain nameless, this former famous band member dude. Besides, I doubt he could pick me out of a line-up of two and so I can hardly claim to know him.

So it was an interesting event. I believe that most of the people there thought I was hired help, the woman who made the biscuits and I did get a lot of compliments on those.



At one point, a woman came into the kitchen and said something like, "Oh my. You do not overwork the gluten on your biscuits, do you?"
And I could really think of nothing to say to that although I wish I'd said what Lon told me later I should have said which was, "Oh, hell no. Last time I overworked my gluten it came back to bite me in the ASS!" in my best fake southern accent. Sometimes the real one just isn't enough. Know what I'm saying?

But overall, it was a stunning achievement. We fed the masses.



Another friend of Lon and Lis's had caught the most delicious fishes and he and another friend fried it up, true southern-style, and that was the most amazing fried seafood I'd ever eaten in my life. Those people had no idea the delicacy they were being offered in that fish and shrimp and conch. The conch was caught in the Bahamas and as the man who'd caught it pounded it into tenderness with a wooden mallet, he told me the story of the unexpected and sudden death of his son who had been diving with him in the Bahamas. I stood there in my floured apron, listening to this dear man telling me of his son's last moments, of the blessings their family has received since his death, the blessings of having had the son for the years of his life, as he pounded the meat with that wooden mallet, gently, almost more of a tapping than a pounding and I listened, tears in my eyes, my heart filling over. And when I ate some of that conch later, it was the sweetest sea-meat I have ever tasted, as if it had never been near salt at all, sweeter than lobster or crab. Sweeter than anything but life.

I got to hold and talk to a baby who is three months old and I thought so much about Owen and how much he is going to change in the next three months. I watched that baby in his grandfather's arms, I watched him and was so grateful for the joy he's brought to his family, his community. Later, I watched the newly-made bridegroom hold that baby and I could see in his eyes what he wants and I hope the adventure begun for him and his new wife yesterday lead to that desire's fruition.

It was a wonderful trip for me. I don't know if I've ever had any more fun with Lon and Lis, despite all the work, despite the heat, despite the worry and tiny crises that popped up. I planted plants and I cut up fruit and I made biscuits and I washed dishes and really, I could not have been happier. I was with two people I loved, and then I got to be with other people I loved, and I got to hold a baby and feed people and I got to sleep in Lon and Lis's guest room which is like sleeping in the best bed and breakfast in the world, only when you wake up, there's Lis standing there with a cup of coffee and a kiss saying, "How did you sleep, my love? What can I do for you?"
I mean, seriously. There's even a stained glass window over the bed and a cunning little pocket door and the room is so small and cozy and the sheets are so soft and the bed is so welcoming and well, I doubt I've ever slept better in my life.

And I got to do work that I love. With people that I love. There was no worry about whether or not anyone was having fun or being entertained. We had a purpose, we had jobs, we had problems, we solved them. AND we got to drink beer and rum while we did all of this!

And then last night, when everyone was gone and we'd stacked all the chairs and cleaned up all the food and the bottles and cans and all we could say was, "Oh god, oh god, oh god," because we were so hot and so tired, we sat down to eat our leftovers and Lon popped in a copy of this:

Which I had never seen.
And suddenly the power of the blues was upon us and we ate and we sipped our drinks and we arranged ourselves in the living room in front of the TV with the giant, gentle black labs, Buck and Daisy, and we watched and listened to the spirit of a very different sort of music than the kind that Lon and Lis play, but for which they have a great respect and I saw people play that I've seen in concert, people who have literally saved my life in small dark smoky clubs back when I used to go out to hear music and then, my daddy, Mr. B.B. King finished it all up for us and it was the perfect ending to the perfect day.
And no, Mr. King is not my biological daddy but because I didn't really have a daddy, I have chosen him to represent what a daddy would be for me.

And then I slept for about eleven hours and got up and we had coffee and I packed up and Lis kept putting things in an ice chest for me and saying, "What can I do for you?" and Lon kept saying, "Thank-you, thank-you," and I kept saying, "Thank-YOU, thank-YOU!" and I left and drove home on the back roads.

I got home and unpacked, greeted my dogs, went out to see my chickens and feed them some grapes, called every one of my children, heard about Owen's two-week check-up (he is growing tremendously and is PERFECT!), had a lovely few moments with Mr. Moon before he left to go to auction, and I have watered my plants and it is evening and I am already missing Lon and Lis and their beautiful home in Gator Bone where they made me feel so welcome, so safe, so needed, so appreciated.

I just feel so fucking rich. I have these friends. I have talents (okay, one talent- for biscuit baking) which people appreciate and which I got to use, I have this place, these babies of mine, this grandson of mine. Mr. Moon shot a deer this morning and we will have more meat in the freezer, my garden's greens are big enough to start eating, my chickens are laying two dozen eggs a week, and I am sitting here on the porch of my dream house, a house which is 150 years old and the sky is streaked with pink as the sun is setting and although it is still hot, it will start to cool down by the end of the week and I am going to go see Owen tomorrow.
The ceiling fan is whirring. There are delicious leftovers in the refrigerator including a piece of lemon-buttermilk wedding cake with white-chocolate frosting, and honestly, there is nothing on earth I could want for.

And there you have it- the report of a trip from one little piece of Florida paradise to another and then back again.

I keep thinking about how one of the wedding party people asked Lon yesterday as he was doing something to clean up if this was the hardest work he had ever done.
I have no idea what he said to her in reply. But if she really knew Lon, if she really knew Lis, she would never have asked this question. Because Lon and Lis make their living from the very sweat of their brow. The house they live in which people find so charming they almost pee themselves being in has been restored and perfected by thousands of hours of hands-on work. They make their living with their musical talents and abilities, recording and playing and the gigs they do in hundred-degree heat, and the love they shower on the people they love- these things are all the hardest work that anyone could ever do. Throwing a wedding for close to a hundred people is just one more tiny link in a chain of the work of art which is the beauty and sustenance of their lives.

I feel so honored to be a part of this. I feel so honored to be able to have woken up in that room and to have Lis hand me a cup of coffee.

There are so many things I do not believe in, do not care one damn thing about. But there are so many things I DO believe in and this weekend I got to experience so many of them. They all seem to begin and end with food, with laughter, with music, with family, and with friends who are family.

And so I feel as if I was on a holy mission. Not to convert people to a religion, but to revel in my own religion- the Church Of The Batshit Crazy where love reigns, where biscuits are the holy flesh, not of god, but of life, and where I could sleep under a stained glass window with the moon shining in, blessing me in goodness, in light and in love. Where I could come home to that which sustains me.

Those people better stay married forever. And if they don't- it ain't our fault. We did our job and I am hoping that Lon and Lis are at home tonight, stretched out together and looking into each others eyes and saying, "Oh god, oh god, oh god."

Whatever that means and however they may be saying it.

Amen, y'all. Amen.