The Wedding Dance Betty Digby
I’m in the December years of my life, but in my heart, I am young. I am grateful and upbeat, with a mind that is relatively sharp and an enthusiasm to pursue many lifelong interests and even start new ventures. I’m still me! But my body is 94 years old and I’m sure that, from the outBetty Digby side, all most people see is an old lady who needs a cane for support as she shuffles along and who squints her eyes as she struggles to see a face. In our youth-obsessed society, the elderly are sometimes discarded like trash. If we’re lucky, we’re invited to special affairs or allowed to view social events from the sidelines. If we’re really lucky, as am I, we have friends and a loving family who bring magic into our lives and keep us believing in sunny tomorrows. Last summer, I attended the wedding of my sister’s granddaughter Carolina (Carly) Herrera and her friend since middle school, James (Jamie) McSherry. The wedding was held in the backyard of their home, across from the Town Square in Woodstock, a picturesque little town in Connecticut. Their two-bedroom Victorian frame house on the main street had been a three-dimension stamp business and the backyard, a large parking lot. But by the day of the wedding, the parking lot had become a fairytale scene. Guests were ushered into a quarter-acre of sod, with creatively-shaped small gardens full of flowers and decorative plants, birdbaths, and stone statuary, under the full-grown maple trees that line the perimeter. Strategically placed white wicker chairs and wooden benches invited all to remain and enjoy the mood. At the far end of the yard were giant white tents, one that could hold 100 guests for dining at large, formally set round tables, and another that had a finished floor for dancing and space for the band. Creative Carly had flowers everywhere, not only on the dining tables and areas where guests would mingle, but also around the two spacious portable restrooms (with sinks) that stood at the front sidewalk—not that anyone would have recognized them as portable privies. They were camouflaged by actual wooden doors from the main house and surrounded by potted bushes street side. Only the yard-side doors, adorned with flower wreaths, were visible to welcome those in need.
Near the entrance to the back gardens was a sturdy, dark wooden arbor, where the wedding party stood for the ceremony. Occasional drops of rain fell as Dan Paige, officiant and a close friend of Carly and Jamie, paid tribute to the couple and set the tone for the wedding. A light drizzle continued throughout the evening; but it didn’t matter, for as twilight drew near, tiny lights outlined everything in the garden, and we were transported into a fantasy land. The beauty of the setting was eclipsed only by the beauty of the bride in her low-V-neck, sleeveless white silk gown, with sequins on the bodice and sculptured lace around the hem. After the service, her train was fastened to tiny silk ball buttons that followed the curvature of her spine. She was so slim, with her light hair flowing around her delicate face and tanned shoulders, as she danced on her wedding night. I kept watching, following her steps, remembering the days long ago when I was the queen of the dance floor. The music was exceptional! Jay Stollman, step-father of the bride, is a professional musician who performs world-wide. In his work, he meets many famous entertainers and makes many friends, for Jay has a quiet, genuine personality that draws people to him. He went all out for Carly’s wedding, bringing in the best musicians with whom he has recently worked: Christine Tambakis, a singer from Great Britain; Andy Abel, master guitarist; Scott Spray, bass player; Drew McKeon, drummer for Michael Bolton; Brazilian guitarist Renan Nerone. And there isn’t a better blues/rock/soul vocalist around than Jay himself. When I’m in Jupiter, Florida (Jay’s hometown), and can hear him perform, I’m captured by his first song and linger until the last notes fade away as the venue closes for the night. Words like “outstanding,” “incredible,” “excellent” cannot fully describe the energy of the music that night. There was no room on the dance floor; it was filled with happy individuals, dancing the night away. And my heart danced with them. I can’t listen to the beat of the music without tapping my toes and fingers to the rhythm. When I was in my late teens, I attended Saturday evening ballroom classes at Vera Lebou’s Dance Studio in Pittsburgh and soon became captivated by the art. I would dance with the instructors on those evenings and was chosen to be the lead performer for the waltz, tango, and samba ballroom review in the studio’s recital on the Nixon Theatre stage. Since then, my enthusiasm for dance has never waned. My
Thankful for Hands to Hold Jim O’Brien
A cute older couple was walking along the second level of South Hills Village, holding hands and looking content in each other’s company. This scene, from late November 2001, remains squarely in my memory. It seems that I was at the mall a lot more in those days. I noted this particular couple on several other occasions and wondered who they were and why they were holding hands as they paraded down the promenade. Walking with a purpose, it was evident that this was their daily exercise. I interrupted their walk to ask them who they were. The couple was Richard Davis, retired from Koppers, and his wife, Joan. They live in Mt. Lebanon and have been married to one another for more than 50 years. “He’s a very affectionate person,” explained Joan when I asked why, after all these years together, they looked like teenagers on their first date. “I don’t know, I guess he doesn’t want to lose me,” she grinned. “As you get older,” remarked Richard, “you better walk. If you don’t, someday you’ll find that you can’t.” 20
UPPER ST. CLAIR TODAY
Spring 2019
“I hope we can always walk together,” said Joan. As a result of my observation and my discussion with Richard and Joan, I spoke to several other senior couples who I noticed walking hand-inKathie and Jim O’Brien hand, or with arms linked, at South Hills Village and Century III Mall, asking them to explain their beautiful behavior. They all expressed gratitude to be together. As they walked past me, I overheard one couple discussing a recent terrorist activity. I guess that holding hands with someone you love gives you a semblance of security in troubling times. Ralph and Angeline Monteleone lived in Brookline most of their
