Friday, April 30, 2010

My Brother's Wedding




for my grandfather, Glynn Hudson Lanier



The lights dimmed in Henry's Mexican Restaurant, a modestly-sized eatery only cramped due to the sheer volume of rehearsal-dinner attendees the night of April 23rd. Attentions focused on the building's right inside wall as a slideshow faded in and out on the screen to the time of a Star Trek instrumental theme. Younger versions of the bride and groom shuffled into view, chronicling their growing-up years before the audience's eyes. I recognized most of my brother's photos. I was in some of them: the two of us safely bundled up together in Mom's arms amid our first snowstorm at 11 months; Jason and I strong-armed by a young Uncle John as infants; all three of us innocently naked sitting together in the bathtub at three and four. As I watched mine and Jason's childhood pass before our eyes, it finally hit me: I'm not the only woman in his life anymore.


Being twins, Jason and I clung to each other as a sort of comfort as we were growing up. We were uniquely sensative to each other's needs even from the beginning. When Jason would scream for his feeding or for his diaper to be changed as a baby, I would patiently sit there and wait my turn. I joke with myself that if he hadn't been so boisterous, I may never have been fed or changed. But I know I didn't mind the wait: Even as a small child, I seemed to enjoy defering to him. The two of us would often go off by ourselves and play, leaving older Chris to fend for himself. My favorite game that we played together was called "Lion;" in it, Jason was the lion and I was the lion-tamer. We would walk along side-by-side, he on hands and knees and I upright in the tall green grass of the mobile home's backyard, pretending like we were part of a circus routine. I adored being with him and being in whatever business he was in as often as he would let me be there.


When he was still a toddler, Jason began a life-long posture of watchfullness over me. My grandma tells me the story of what happened one warm day in 1985: I was just tall enough at 18 months old to touch the kitchen table, but couldn't reach what I wanted on top of it, a nice crisp apple. Noticing me straining to obtain the prize, Jason put down his own toy, ingeniously found a chair, mounted it, and seized the apple. He then genteelly presented it to me. This inclination to watch over me continued throughout our growing up years as a sense of responsibility for me and a desire to protect me in whatever way he could. Anytime he heard a negative comment about me, he would raise himself to his full stature, clench both fists, and aggressively declare, "Don't you be messin' with my sister! Whaddya doin' messin' wi' my sister?"


During our school years, Jason was ever-cognizent of our different sexes and ever-mindful of others' perceptions of our closeness. Because we were always in the same class and hung out together after school, he was somehow afraid that someone unaccqauainted with us would watch us walking together and assume that we were dating. I must have put that scare in him big time when we were in fifth grade. On our birthday that year, my friends kept daring me to give him a birthday kiss (on the cheek, of course). I knew how much it would be uncomfortable for him, so at first I declined. Succumbing to 'tween peer pressure, however, as we walked to music class that day, I stole one. He yelled so loud and was mad at me for a week!


As these pleasant memories flooded my senses the night of the rehearsal, I realized that our twin relationship would be irrevocably changed less than twenty-four hours from that moment. In some ways, I felt, I would be giving my brother away to another woman, a girl far less his twin but so much more his life-long companion. She takes a place that I could never fill: He couldn't bring himself to be mad at her for kissing him, even on the cheek, for a minute--let alone a whole week!










I could not be happier to have such a woman as Christy Luster as my sister-in-law. I met her in the fall of 2007, one day when Jason brought his new girl by. I'm not sure how long they had been dating at that point, but, if memory serves, I knew it hadn't been very long. He had been in China for all of the previous year and returned to the States in March of 2007. Sometime after that, she found him on Myspace and boldly messaged him with, "Hey handsome!" She revealed that she lived in La Vernia, a small town just outside of San Antonio. They then discovered that they both worked across the street from each other. Appearantly interest was mutual, because less than six months later here she was on Dad's porch, Jason's girlfriend.


A relationship is not without its criticism and Jason's with Christy had its fair share. From my perspective, however, I have rooted for them almost from the start. I was privvy to an interesting evening in the infancy of their relationship that sealed the deal for me. As a Christmas present, in December 2007 Jason and Christy took me out to dinner at the Rainforest Cafe in downtown San Antonio. He had asked me to bring my phone, dubbed my "secret cell phone" and used for emergencies only, as a point of contact. I arrived just before seven that night and, having forgotten the phone, walked upstairs to give them a call. He was calm and said they'd be there in five minutes or so. He mentioned that they were on the corner of St. Mary's and something and I told him that was far from the restaurant. "No, it isn't, no it isn't," he declared in his characteristic gruffness. I told him I'd see him soon and walked back to the waiting area. I hadn't the heart to tell him that if he didn't arrive within fifteen minutes, the restaurant was obligated to give away our table.


Just after 7:15, I spied the couple approaching the Rainforest's broad entrance, both Jason's and Christy's expressions looks of frustrated annoyance and near-exhaustion. He carried Christy's bag and she carried her twelve-month-old on her hip. At that moment, I wasn't sure if this had turned out to be a good idea. I was picturing Jason's unpredictable side bubbling up and all I could think of was to stay as far out of the way as I could. Mercifully, the Rainforest had held our table for us and, after checking in with the "Rock" (what we called the hostess' podium), we headed upstairs.


The dinner proved to be quite lovely. The meal itself was quite delicious. I remember Christy ordered a burger and split it with the baby; Jason either ordered steak or some other kind of burger; and I ordered some sort of pasta or salad. Camryn, the baby, was very well-behaved throughout the night. One of the restaurant's managers and also one of my friends from work, Vince, sauntered to our table and gifted us with complementary chips and queso. As it was the first time that I was able to sit with Christy for any length of time, I really enjoyed my time with them that night.


Conversation quietly passed to the reason for the late entrance and Christy confessed that it was due to Jason's parking job. He had talked with me about the event long enough to figure out the time and the restaurant's general vicinity, but he failed to ask either for directions or convenient places to park. Christy reminded him of the need for such things, but he just brushed her off. Remembering something in my directions about the street Trinity, as he spied it from the driver's seat he pulled down it and into the first parking lot he found: a narrow strip twenty spaces deep and wide enough for two rows of parked cars and one lane of traffic. The three of them flopped out of his F-250, a hulk of a pick-up truck, and began the search for the restaurant. They found a sign pointing to the Riverwalk and knew the restaurant was somewhere on it. As Jason lively told her, "It's just around this bend," they walked on. Five bends later, they still had not reached it but continued in steely silence. When I called him, Jason hadn't wanted to worry Christy that they might be lost, so he brushed off my comments as well.


The night's excitement had only just begun, however. After dinner, we repeated the walk they had made earlier and I discovered that they had parked only three blocks away from me, a journey that would have taken them far less to traverse had they walked on the street. We piled into the truck, Christy securing Cami in the backseat with me and then climbing back out to direct Jason out of the parking space. He started to back out with her as his guide. "You have that much space," she said through the window, indicating about 8 inches with her hands. He tried the other direction, but with similar results. After a frustrating twenty minutes of this, he had all but given up. He started to grunt loudly and yanked his hat off his head, throwing it violently on the floor of the truck as Christy climbed back in. "It's nothing to get mad at," she said matter-of-factly. "You're just stuck."


By this point, having witnessed the tell-tell signs of Jason's rising anger all-too often, I cowered in the backseat and focused my attention on entertaining Cami. I didn't want to be yet another cause of his frustrations. A thought popped into my head, one I was none-too-eager to voice: What if I went to get my car and I took everyone home and then brought Jason back to get his truck? In the time it would take to go home and back, surely someone would have moved and given Jason space enough to get out. We sat there muling over what to do for minutes until finally I felt comfortable enough to suggest my idea. Reluctantly, he agreed.


My car was only three blocks away, but Jason asked Christy to walk with me anyway because he didn't want me to go alone. Within minutes of getting the car, all four of us were piled in and headed to Christy's dad's house to drop off the baby. It was then that she said she wanted to drive him back because if not, she'd worry about him. It was an argument I could not argue with; after dropping Cami off and making sure Jason and Christy were safe, I headed home, confident that she'd take good care of him that night.


I am ever thankful that a woman like Christy would not only be willing but more than eager to spend the rest of her life with a man like Jason. I saw his "Baben rage," a nickname from high school given to his outbursts, peeking through his resolve the night at the Rainforest Cafe. But I also saw Christy's reaction to it and it didn't ruffle her feathers. She has a pretty even-keel personality: She's assertive without being overbearing and patient without being pushed over. Since she's been with my brother, I've seen the way her temperance has molded and matured him. I know I couldn't handle someone like my bother, but I know the LORD has blessed her with such an ability. When she lends her support to him, I know it's valid. She not only allows, but encourages him to pursue his interests. In good humor, she "puts up with" his love for all things Star Trek--and she makes allowances for it! When Christy confesses her love for Jason, I know it is true because I have seen the contrast.


"We all remember Michelle," Jennifer Click, a long-time friend from middle school, confessed at Jason's wedding. Jennifer, her husband David, and Eric the Best Man, grew up together with my brothers and me while we were in school. The three of them, together with their spouses and my brothers, still form a close-knit social circle. Jennifer was speaking of an event from several years prior that the group helplessly watched unfold. Jason almost married a girl who proved not to be as keen on marrying him as he thought she was.


For a long time, my brother has wanted what the LORD richly blessed him with on his wedding day. Nearly five years ago, he felt like he had it. He had met a girl at school that he fell in love with--and he was going to marry her. He informed us of this decision around August of 2005, not really asking our permission but rather letting us know it would happen. Sometime after that, he proposed and she accepted.


The whole situation was oddly matter-of-fact for a man and woman presumed to be so much in love. Jason asked Dad at one point, "Is this how things should feel?"


Dad countered with, "No, this should be the happiest stage of your married life."


It clearly wasn't the happiest stage for him. As things progressed, Jason began to notice how beligerent this girl was. The girl would fault him for wanting to go out and fix his Mustang, the project car he'd had since 2001. She would also make fun of his affinity for Star Trek. As I helped Jason move during this time, I heard her say to him about his beloved TV show, "Jason, are we five?" As his sister, I know how important these things are to him and it pained me to think that they weren't as important to this girl. Nevermind whether these were her own interests--she should be so supportive of them because they are such monuments in his life.


In planning for the wedding, Christy showed how supportive of Jason she really could be: From the overall country theme down to his Star Trek TNG-communicator cuff links, every detail spoke of their merging interests and their merging lives. I could see that it was a labor of love from her to my brother. Jason made a comment that day about how much a reflection of himself the event was--"It's got fishing and deer hunting and country and Star Trek." He was overwhelmed at the thoughtfulness of it all. His groom's cake was a deer-hunting scene, complete with blind and deer figurines, a thing he showed off proudly. His and the groomsmen's vests and ties were leafy camoflague-green to match. They were announced at the reception with a Star Trek theme and the final dance was another such work. Her gift to him at the reception was the companion guide to all things Star Trek, a book we stressed could not be taken on the plane flight to the honeymoon. Her touch was even present in the element that Jason brought to the wedding. Were it not for her patiently allowing him time for his Mustang, it would not have been ready for them to drive off into the night with.


This is definitely a union worth celebrating and his wedding day was nothing if not a celebration. Literally, hundreds of people flocked to witness the event and 700 people were served dinner at the reception. I knew it was going to be big when more than fifty people showed up for the rehearsal dinner. Having come all the way from Korea to be a part of it, I can honestly say I would not have missed this for the world. Jason and Christy, "Love long and prosper."



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