Recap

My brother's wedding was the best of times and the worst of times.

He and Michele chose a idyllic Presbyterian church for the ceremony and the Radisson hotel for dinner and dancing. Nearly 200 members of our extended families were in attendance. Pastor Bob, the religious leader with whom they did intensive premarital counseling, presided. There were two nontraditional twists: they couple wrote their own vows and they had their own siblings or friends, regardless of gender, stand up for them. That meant David had me, my sister, her boyfriend and my other brother. Michele had her sister, two girlfriends and her brother-in-law.

The bride had her hair done up in ringlets like Shirley Temple and wore a strapeless dress embroidered with flowers and sparkles. She cried all the way down the aisle and those who kept it together during their promises to each other lost it when they lit a unity candle and presented roses to their parents one-by-one.

The most amazing thing about the ceremony was the way my brother grew in my eyes in the span of two minutes. He started the ceremony as the little guy (even though he's bigger than me) who I bossed around, the kid whose finger I tried to cut off in a pencil sharpener, the one who believed me when I said liquid soap burned and that bar soap tasted like his favorite food.

But his vows showed a maturity and eloquence that I never expected. To paraphrase, he went through all the reasons he suspects people think he loves Michele. Then he explained the real reasons. There was nothing superficial about them. He transformed into a man right before my eyes. I was incredibly proud and a glad I never poisoned or dismembered him.

So that was the best of times.

The worst of times begins with this recipe: an emotional mother, two Xanex, at least three glasses of wine, a messy divorce and a multitude of in-laws. It ends with a bawling mother who had to be assisted to our hotel room and stashed in a rollaway bed before the mother-son dance ever began. It gives me reason to drink Or think.

I have to give props to Kelley. She is a pro when it comes to handling these bewildering family encounters. I tend to back off and watch like its a dysfunctional family movie. But she jumps into action and douses fires before they get out of control. That ability makes me love her all the more. She understands me and my family and just what to do to help it all.

So, not to get too morose, I must review the highlight reel. There's my Roseanne-shaped aunts bumping busts together on the dance floor. There they are again imitiating Kelley doing the "butterfly" dance move. There's Kelley and I re-enacting the aborted lift during the Dirty Dancing theme song. There was my brother and Michele walking into the reception to the Star Wars soundtrack. Hey, my stoner brother gave a kind of moving best man toast. And wow, did my grandparents just invite themselves to our Provincetown ceremony? Did I catch the bride's bouquet? Did she throw it right to me? And just where in the hell is my digital camera?