Tressie Marries
Joe And Tressie Howell
Saturday,
June 4, was one of those days where I found myself in numerous social situations,
so numerous, in fact, that there was not time for much else. My morning
activities were reported in last week’s RRN.
It was during lunch that Rayanne, my daughter, asked if I were going to Tressie
Prewett’s wedding. Rayanne and her family had spent Friday night at
our house and were planning to return to Belmont Saturday afternoon. I feel
certain, Barbara would have reminded me there was a wedding I needed to attend,
if Rayanne had not raised the question. Though infrequent, there are times
when having an abundance of women in my life seems more an advantage than
a disadvantage.
Generally, I don’t rank weddings very high on my to-do list. I recognize
they are important events, but as a guy, I’d just as soon let my wife
represent my family as I had seeing the both of us attend. Yet, this was
no ordinary wedding that almost slipped my mind. This happened to be the
wedding of my best friend’s daughter. And, while Kenneth Prewett might
forgive me for forgetting his daughter’s wedding, I’m not sure
I could forgive myself. Anyway, Kenneth only had two daughters, and one is
already married, so with Tressie being the younger daughter, it’s not
as though I could redeem myself in the future by attending the wedding of
another of Kenneth’s daughters.
Though there was plenty of time for me to get ready for the 4:00 p.m. ceremony,
the hours passed quickly, and Barbara and I didn’t arrive until after
three-thirty. By then, the downstairs of the auditorium at First Baptist
Church, Pontotoc was mostly filled.
There is something in me, something that helps define who I am and what I’m
all about that causes me to analyze certain events or situations. I suppose
it has to do with how my mind processes the information it receives from
visual and auditory input. It’s something we all do to a lesser or greater
extent than someone else. We observe something, and based on our varied
experiences each of us forms an opinion. Thus, we find ourselves liking it
or not, or else we are simply indifferent.
I had hardly settled on the pew when sensory input began to flood my mind.
To my left, a woodwind quintet played beautiful music, and in front of me
there were floral arrangements with candle accents. It was then I remembered
how at the wedding of Tressie’s sister, Emily, there were a lot of candles
in various diameters and heights. For whatever reason, Tressie apparently
felt her wedding needed fewer candles. I liked the black iron, spiral-shaped
candle holders that held five or so candles, each about four inches in diameter
and about four inches tall. The vine work entwining the candle holders was
tastefully done, as well.
Things were going rather smoothly, until two ushers came down the aisles
to light the candles for the wedding ceremony. They each had a butane candle
lighter, the brass kind fashioned for weddings ever since butane cigarette
lighters were popularized. In past weddings, I’ve noted the ushers sometimes
have difficulty keeping their miniature flame throwers lit, and while that
was a minor annoyance for one usher, they both had bigger problems.
The candelabras were quite tall, approximately six feet high, and each one
had three candles at the upper level. The wicks of the broad candles atop
each candelabrum could not be seen by either usher. It made for several
interesting minutes as the two ushers struggled to light the topmost candles.
To their credit, neither one gave up until the task was done.
The folks in the woodwind quintet seemed unaffected by the plight of the
ushers and continued to play as if oblivious of their surroundings. After
the wedding, Larry Young told me I missed at least half of the music played
by the talented group that included professors of music at Ole Miss and one
talented, homegrown clarinetist, Sarah Rutledge Todd.
After the parents and grandparents of the bride and groom were seated, the
pastor, groom, best man, and groomsmen made their entrance, followed by the
matron of honor and bridesmaids. The groom’s father was best man and
the bride’s sister was matron of honor. Don’t ask me about the
bride’s beautiful gown or the dresses of the two bridesmaids. All I
remember is the bride’s gown was white and the matron of honor and
bridesmaids wore strapless gowns that were something close to a pea green
color.
A young man and a young woman sang a duet prior to the exchange of vows and
another duet afterwards. Though I was not familiar with either song, I’m
sure they had special meaning for the bride and groom.
At the close of the service, the chief officiant, Dr. Ken Hester, proudly
presented Mr. & Mrs. Joseph Morgan Howell to those of us present. After
the wedding ceremony, the wedding party and well-wishers congregated at the
Pontotoc Community Center for refreshments and fellowship.
While there was enough food and enough variety to qualify for an early dinner,
I chose only a cup of fruit punch for myself. Trust me, I’m in the minority.
Most folks sampled for more than just cake and punch. I’m not sure why
I don’t care to eat "wedding food," but maybe it’s because I’d
rather spend time visiting and socializing than eating a meal outside of
mealtime.
Other than hometown folks, I spoke briefly to one of the members of the woodwind
quintet to share my appreciation for the music, and I also introduced myself
to the young man who sang. I asked if he and the young woman often sang duets
together. He explained he only met her at their rehearsal.
Another young man asked me if I was Wayne Carter. He was Rob Ray, son of
Bobby Ray, who formerly owned a Sunflower Store in Oxford, MS. I had not
seen Rob since his college days, but he and his wife are living in Water
Valley, MS, where Rob is Minister of Music at FBC, Water Valley. The groom,
Joe, had also served at FBC, prior to his graduating from Ole Miss.
Barbara and I left before the bride and groom departed for their honeymoon.
Tressie and Joe spent their honeymoon at a resort area on Tybee Island, off
the coast of Georgia. They will make their home in Daphne, AL.
New York City
Barbara And Sarah Visit
Barbara and Sarah have just returned from a four-night stay in New York City.
By all accounts, they had a wonderful time and a truly educational experience.
They have not fully recovered from pounding the pavement, riding subways,
seeing a Broadway play, and visiting numerous historic sights. Nor have they
caught up on their sleep after four days of almost non-stop activity. Not
everyone who visits NYC can boast a personal tour guide and host, but Barbara
and Sarah took full advantage of my uncle’s hospitality.
I hope between the two tourists, I’ll be able to share more than one
of the adventures they had on their trip, and I hope to enlist their writing
talents to describe their personal experiences. This week, Barbara describes
her first day in NYC.
NYC Day One – By Barbara Carter
I'm not an early morning person, but on June 10, 2005, I was out of bed,
dressed, packed and ready to head for the airport in Memphis at 5:30 a.m.
I shot off an email to Lamar Carter, Wayne's uncle who lives in New York
City, to inform him that Sarah Sue and I were about to leave for the airport
and head to New York for our long planned visit.
Sarah Sue was still breathing hard when I drove over to get her and her luggage
loaded into the car. She said she had to sit on her suitcase in order to
get it closed. Thankfully, it was zipped and ready to go. We threw our bags
into the trunk and turned toward Memphis.
Our flight was scheduled for 8:40 a.m., arriving at LaGuardia at approximately
12:00 noon. We planned this trip back in early spring, before Wayne's heart
attack.
I remember Sarah Sue saying when I told her that Wayne had been having some
tightness in his chest and pain down his arms, "Does this mean we aren't
going to get to go to New York?"
Lamar had been in contact with us, making plans for what we wanted to do
while there. He had invited us to stay with him, but since he only has one
bath and one bedroom in his penthouse apartment, we felt that two women coming
in with bags and stuff would be too much for four or five days. Therefore,
with Lamar's help, we found a little hotel just a short walk from his apartment
on Washington Square in downtown Manhattan. He made plans to meet us at the
airport, but due to air traffic in New York we were going to be later than
the scheduled arrival. Once we got to the airport in New York, I called his
cell phone to let him know we were at least in the building. He had been
waiting about one hour at the airport for our arrival.
Outside, a long line was forming at the taxi stand. We fell in and queued
our way along.
The attendant had a heavy brogue accent, and I said, "Ok, Lamar, you do the
talking."
I don't know what the man was saying, but we got in a taxi driven by a man
from the Middle East, who talked on a cell phone our entire trip into the
City.
We planned to go to the hotel, put away our bags, and then meet in the lobby
to go on a walking tour to St. Patrick's Cathedral and the Museum of Modern
Art. I can't remember now how long the walk was. We were chatting, pointing
and looking, and trying to take in as much as possible on this memorable
occasion. Neither Sarah Sue nor I had ever been to New York before.
Lamar said he was a member at the Museum of Modern Art, and he would get
passes for us to tour the museum. Soon we were on our way through the rooms
of artists' works. The museum houses the world's largest collection of modern
painting and sculpture with more than 3,000 works of art. We saw paintings
by Pablo Picasso, Diego Rivera, Monet, Vincent van Gogh, Henri Matisse, Salvador
Dali, et al. There were thousands more exhibits in Architecture and Design,
Drawings, Photography and much more. After we toured the rooms, decided which
artworks we each liked, and discussed what we were viewing, we headed back
to the hotel to rest a bit before dressing for our first experience at the
Cort Theater.
We had decided on seeing the Broadway play, "On Golden Pond," which was starring
James Earl Jones, Leslie Uggams, and Linda Powell. There were, of course,
understudies for each of the play cast. The lights were bright along the
street and the play billboards promoted the shows about the start inside.
There was a small crowd gathering on the street in front of the Cort Theater,
so we walked up and joined them. Very soon, which was about 7:30 p.m. the
doors opened and we made our way into the theater. As we made our way through
the lobby, I saw a cast listing. Underneath was another dry eraser board,
which stated that tonight Norman Thacker was being played by the understudy,
whose name I don’t recall. For a moment, my heart sank. I had wanted
to see this play because of James Earl Jones. In that instance I wanted to
just walk out, but I didn't.
Lamar had been able to get good seating for us on the Mezzanine - second
row - center stage. The stage setting was quite impressive, even before the
play began. Lights danced behind a drop, which depicted Golden Pond. It look
so real. As soon as the lights came up and Norman came out on the landing
of the stairs, I forgot that I had wanted to leave. The understudy looked
so much like James Earl Jones and even sounded a lot like him when he spoke.
All of the actors were excellent, and I was soon lost in the story of "On
Golden Pond". Charlie was a riot and I think the only white actor in the
cast. There were subtle remarks that were hilarious and the three of us enjoyed
our evening at "The Pond".
Afterwards, we walked to Joe Allen's a restaurant where Lamar had made
reservations for us. On the way to the restaurant I remember that at one
street corner several people were waiting for the light to change.
Lamar broke away from my side, moved in front of a lady standing at the corner,
and I heard him say, "Cross the street?"
The young woman took his arm as he led her across the street. She was blind.
I was so impressed with Lamar's kindness, and I told him so.
A lot of the after theater crowd goes to Joe Allen's for dinner. We joined
right in. The maitre d' asked what we had been to see as he escorted us to
our table. We ordered appetizers, I think, and of course, dessert. Eating
at 11:00 p.m. is new to me, but we had fun.
So ended our first day in New York about 1:00 a.m., and we left Lamar with
plans to meet about 9:00 a.m. for breakfast on Saturday morning.
Subscriptions
Starting July 01, 2005
After nine years of free subscriptions to Ridge Rider News, it has become
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Several individuals have generously made donations to RRN, and in so doing,
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Readers who have any questions or concerns regarding this change are encouraged
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Bodock Beau
Muslin Terrorists
It frustrates and even saddens most of us, who were born in the USA, whenever
we try to comprehend the mind of a terrorist, such as a suicide bomber. However,
there is new data to help us understand the terrorist’s mindset. Consider
Shirley Lowry’s submission:
Everyone seems to be wondering why Muslim terrorists are so quick to commit
suicide. Let's see now...
No Jesus,
No Christmas
No television
No cheerleaders
No baseball
No football
No hockey
No golf
No tailgate parties
No Wal-Mart
No Home Depot
No BBQ
No hot dogs
No burgers
No bacon, sausage or pork loin
No chocolate chip cookies
No shellfish or catfish
No gumbo
No jambalaya
No Beer
No Hooters
No Victoria's Secret
Rags for clothes and towels for hats
Constant wailing from the guy next-door because he's sick and there are no
doctors.
Constant wailing from the guy in the tower.
More than one wife
You can't shave.
Your wives can't shave.
You can't shower to wash off the smell of donkey cooked over burning camel
dung.
The women have to wear baggy dresses and veils at all times.
Your bride is picked by someone else. She smells just like your donkey. But
your donkey has a better disposition.
Then they tell you that when you die it all gets better.
I mean, really, is there a mystery here?
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