(Pauly) Ocean Shores

Well, it’s over. The first of the next generation has joined the ranks of the newly married. Sunrise, sunset, and all that jazz. My brother Paul, the FOTB, was uncharacteristically without control of the situation. He didn’t seem concerned, and appeared to accept that pacing about and smiling were his only duties. Hmmm. That sounds roughly reminiscent of what he did when the bride entered the world twenty-five years ago. I have tried to link a sample of the song to which the FOTB and Lynn, the bride, danced at the reception: Roger and Jessica Whittaker singing “Perfect Day”, but it didn't work. Brother. The sap had to choose something that produced more salt water than Puget Sound (which, incidentally, laps the bulkhead a few yards outside their beach home on Whidbey Island). It made a person forget she was sitting amid the Ghosts of Nudists Past.

Have you ever heard the story about the woman who lay in her casket, a fork in her hand? As the story goes, she was a potluck supper aficionado, as are many of us with discriminating gourmet tastes in Midwestern church basements. When the kitchen committee comes to clear the table, they remind people to keep their forks for the dessert buffet. Our deceased friend said that in keeping her fork, she knew that the best was yet to come. Therefore, as she was leaving this earth, she was preparing herself for Paradise. The best was yet to come.

Paul should have been handing out forks as we left the reception.

The invitation arrived early in the summer. After the wedding, my brother was proposing to host family and significant friends for a few days at Ocean Shores, about two hours down the coast from Seattle. The event included two banquets, all recreation, the hotel room and any other meals we may choose during our stay. Remember the part the day before when Paul had little control of the situation? He had taken it outside – to Ocean Shores.

To make everything even more memorable, the bride and groom were postponing their honeymoon for a few days so they could join in the celebratory fun. These nieces of ours, the Seattle girls, inherited their gracious class from their mother Carol. We Onerheims are responsible for their boisterous senses of humor and the uncontrollable urge to smack a sibling before and during adolescence. Carol gets the credit for taming the Onerheim-ness in them to a palatable social acceptance. How else could we have expected the wedding to be so beautiful? It was Carol, Lynn, and sometimes Lisa, teaming up for an understated, elegant affair. We can’t get enough of these Seattle Onerheim girls, and they seem to bid a sincere return of the sentiment. As for the Ocean Shores trip, Jeff, the groom, was coming, and who could resist the chance to break him in? It’s never too late for that, especially with the vows firmly in place.

Once everyone had responded to the invitation to Ocean Shores, Paul went to work. Before long I got the next e-mail, and then a call from The Sound.

“Hey, Kari?”

"Hi! Hey, I got your e-mail! I couldn’t put it down!”

“It made sense to you then?”

We Scandinavians always put “then” on the end of our sentences. “Are you coming with me then?” is a popular turn of phrase.

“Yeah! I love it! There is one thing I must confess to noticing, however, and it pains me to bring it up. You have me down for two massages. Either that means I get two to everybody else’s one, or you left someone out.”

“Oh. Okay. I didn’t notice that, but thanks for telling me. Do you think this is something I can go ahead and send to everyone, and they’ll find it helpful?”

“Absolutely!”

I will now attempt to put Tome de Paul into a nutshell. This thing is a showstopper, and only someone who didn’t have to plan one second of a wedding could put this much energy into an itinerary. Being an Onerheim myself, and a bit prone to making a major project out of signing up for cell phone service, I was into every nuance, blip, and flow of this document.

Page 1 of 5 starts off with “Driving Directions and Carpools”. Map Quest is a poser when it compares to Paul getting people from Point A to Point B. Make that Point P. The carpool spreadsheet was a particular comfort to me, being from out-of-town, out-of-state, out-of-region, and out-of-touch, in general. Entitled “Ocean Shores Carpools”, it listed the Driver in one column, To Ocean Shores Passengers in the next, followed by From Ocean Shores Passengers. The last column was reserved for “Comments”. Wisely, Paul provided the comments, which included things like who was to be dropped at the airport and who was going to Oregon or Canada after the holiday. It would have been really stupid for him to leave the “Comments” column up for grabs and not expect Neil and me to toy with. I derived my comfort from knowing I was expected to be in someone’s car in each direction, which reduced my chances of getting left somewhere by several degrees.

“Check-in, Check-out Time” came next. Paul anticipated all questions that could have arisen at the front desk during either of these moments in time, and provided instructions on how they could be dealt with. The Room Assignments were in this section, too. I thought it was a particularly good call that Lynn and Jeff were rooming together. This sharing-your-honeymoon-with-the-fam thing could only be expected to go so far. Lisa’s boyfriend Ryan got to bunk with The Barn. Now that I think about it, it’s never too early to break ‘em in with the Onerheims, either! All hotel amenities were listed in this section. They didn’t joke around with the amenities at this place, either. We stayed in suites.

Article III, Section 1a begins the massage missive. This was my favorite chapter of the whole book. Paul scouted out the local massage therapist in Ocean Shores and told her how many one-hour massages he was planning to book. As he put it, “Ocean Shores isn’t the largest town in Washington, so we’ve pretty much cleaned out the supply of massage therapists for the time we’re in the hotel!” Apparently, they had to scrounge for extra LMTs in neighboring burgs. Massages started at 3:00 p..m. on the day of our arrival, continuing through 4:30 p.m. of the second day of our stay, and were being performed non-stop in no less than three separate locations. Don’t tell Neil, but I think Paul is my favorite brother. Oh, yeah. As it turned out, the person Paul forgot to book for a massage was Carol. It’s a good thing I said something. By this point, she was the most deserving.

The next two sections included lists of things to do in Ocean Shores, which are more generous than I can recount here. We had some takers on the horseback riding and the mopeds, but no kite-flyers or mini-golfers were among us.

There was shopping. Ta-daaaaaaa! Ocean Shores has a combination quilt-knitting shop. Glory be! I got to schmooze with Pacific Northwestern needle-ites, and learned whether or not they had had knitting needles confiscated on the plane as dangerous weapons. The Dot had picked out some mohair for a scarf she wanted to knit, and was hoping this would make the return-trip to the Midwest more enjoyable. We got the go-ahead from the babes in the yarn line, made our purchase, and chalked one up in the lint column for the trip.

In the last section, Paul was able to do what U.S. Cellular, Cingular, and Verizon have not. We carried with us a complete cell phone directory of all the numbers of our party. Yowza. I’m having mine laminated.

We joke around a lot as a group, and it’s not hard to relate the fun we have together. Swapping wisecracks and one-liners can be a kick, and I come from a good bloodline for it. I have been able to further hone my skills over the years by being married to Hubba. What is harder to put down in black-and-white is the soft Monet tone of these wedding and post-wedding moments. I was just the aunt of the bride, so what do I know, but Carol and her daughters surely made the wedding day one of leisurely bliss and pleasant memories. Today Carol remarked that the wedding itself seemed to happen in slow motion. I agree, because I never felt any tension or strain. It was a palatable joy to see this marriage unfold, and to unify with loved ones to send our deepest heart-wishes for many years of togetherness for this shining young couple. It was like they knew everyone in the sanctuary was beaming tidings of strength and love to them. The day was about more than the dress or flowers or even a reception at a nudist colony. It was about the people who gathered in devotion and exultation, and the God that allows us appreciate it.

Ocean Shores? All kidding aside, it was the icing on the wedding cake. Thanks, Paul. I’m glad I brought my fork.

©Copyright August 2005 Kari E.O. Burns