— by Cara Russell —
Photo: Sarah Natasha Photography
Rumor is that 14 weddings took place on Orcas Island on Saturday July 26. Here’s my experience at of one of those weddings—my older brother’s.
On Thursday night, July 24, Matt was taken out for his bachelor party. Donned in forest green and dyed capes made of bed sheets, a dozen thirty-something-year-old men drank booze, chopped wood, saved a blow up doll from a tiny imaginary spider’s giant rope web in the woods, and LARPed (live action role-playing) in the woods. They ran amok all over the island and in the wee hours of the morning invented a disgusting drink called ‘beer-ga-limeade’.
Completing one dorky and hilarious Lord of the Ring style challenge after another, Matt’s friends worked hard to provide him with the best bachelor party experience he could ask for. My younger brother (best man) spent hours upon hours planning the event which was led by a friend transformed into Gandalf the Gray. Matt was Bilbo Baggins, the carrier of ‘the one ring,’ the one ring that ultimately needed to be thrown into the cave on Mount Constitution.
Meanwhile, back at the cabin on the north shore at the “Girl Party,” I roamed through room after room of a nautical theme. The house was filled with antique furniture and books, as well as bridesmaids and other female friends of the bride and groom. Nestled on the edge of the water, I felt like we could set sail at any time, as we ate frozen pizza and drank vanilla flavored vodka out of plastic cups. Occasionally someone expressed envy at the fun that the boys were having, but the view of the water, the clean ocean air, the hot tub, and the quirky, spontaneous conversation within the walls on that warm night settled the tired travelers.
That night, as I met the friends who are important to Matt and Hilary, and who became important to me, too, it was easy to like them, as I realized that my brother and his bride have many solid, true friends. It was nice to know that while Matt no longer lives near his family, that down in LA he has managed to surround himself with good people who make living in a big city much less lonely.
I enjoyed hearing each woman’s story about how they met my brother, and what a great friend they consider him. One told me that she was looking forward to meeting our family, and seeing the home where we grew up, “because I always like to see where good people come from.”
Matt and Hilary kind of look alike; they both wear boxy framed glasses, have brown hair, wear cutoff jeans, have an insane mustard and hot sauce collection in their kitchen, and say the most nerdy things as though they are trying to outdo each other. They are like a couple who have been together for 50 years, and have even graduated to wearing matching track suits. As one of the groomsmen said, “when I look at you two, I see how relationships should be.”
Hilary had asked me to stand on her side as a bridesmaid. She informed me that once she and Matt were married, she and I would become ‘Mister Sisters’—a pet name that I enjoy far more than sister in-law. Having grown up with two brothers who spent most of our childhood playing Magic the Gathering, and forging trails in the woods, I finally had a sister and wanted to give her a gift for the wedding; I knew just the thing.
Hilary loves goats, I mean really loves them. If they didn’t live in an apartment, I’m sure they would probably get one for a pet. The week of the wedding I purchased nearly every toy plastic goat from Ray’s Pharmacy; I was certain that the clerk must have been wondering deep down if there wasn’t something wrong with me. I twisted small screw eyes into the back of each goat, sprayed them with sliver paint, slipped a silver chain through the screw eye, and called it a gift for the bride and every bridesmaid.
On the day of the wedding, the back yard of the house where we grew up was transformed into a stage, bar, dining room, and fire pit. My mother’s fenced flower garden became a wedding chapel with blue sky and a highway of flying dragonflies as the roof. Flower petals sprinkled on the grass formed a path for the wedding procession. Two bleating kid goats draped with lavender and purple ribbons munched on weeds and surprised the bride when she walked down the aisle, immediately transforming her into butter in the hot Saturday sun.
We all tried not to cry at every moment, but it was nearly impossible when my Matt played a song he wrote for Hilary. It was clear, well into the dinner reception, that the people attending this wedding like to express love through song, as my brother’s two oldest friends also played a song that they wrote for the couple. This is a growing tradition for these friends.
Over the week, I had managed to get three of Matt’s friends and band mates to join my dad and me in performing an acoustic version of Matt and Hilary’s ‘song.’ It was tricky, as the bride and groom were always around the house, along with two families of parents and siblings. With so much wedding work to be done, the five of us had only minutes here and there to practice, and we were only all able to meet in the same place just once—the morning of the wedding, right before my hair appointment.
The song we had quietly practiced behind closed doors and late at night, while desperately trying not to wake anyone, was not something traditional or even expected. You can’t slow dance to the original version, and on the surface the song is not obviously romantic; but it has the sweetest message that’s perfect for Matt and Hilary. As nearly all of us attending the wedding had been teenagers in the 90’s, Matt and Hilary’s ‘song’ was from that decade—Teenage Dirtbag by Wheetus.
Most of the reception guests already had been forewarned about this “secret song.” They had all heard Matt sing that song many times at karaoke night in LA, or when riding in his car and listening to his playlists. They readied their cameras as my brother looked on at me confused when I walked to the stage with a ukulele in my hand, followed by my dad with his guitar, Liz with her fiddle, and Kyle and Matt H on vocals and percussion. By the end, nearly everyone was singing along, and Matt and Hilary were bawling their eyes out over their salmon and orzo dinner.
Who would have thought that the five of us could bring the bride and groom to tears with the acoustic rendition of a 90s alternative rock song? Me! That’s why I did it!
After the wedding, my brother and Mister Sister spent their honeymoon shuttling their friends to the ferry, which saddened me as I was certain I would miss these people I had known only for a few days. When everyone had gone back to their own state, my parents, my brothers and I, and now my Mister Sister spent the next week at our parents’ house. We had family dinners, talked, and laughed and cried. Eventually we had to say goodbye, as the happy couple had to return to LA as well.
“I’m counting the days to Christmas,” Hilary said as they left with their two dogs, in their car, which was perfectly packed by Matt, the Tetris king. Hugs and kisses ensued and we saw Mr. and Mrs. Russell off down the long family driveway.
So, is there a moral to this retelling? Not really, except to acknowledge two people who held out on settling down for a long time, because up until meeting two years ago, they both somehow knew that there was someone out there that they had to wait for; the right person—the goat lover, the ‘dirtbag’—who was just like them.
In the meantime, surround yourself with good friends, good family, and good fun. For all the other amazing thirty something’s who attended the wedding, and were moved by Matt and Hilary’s love, I hope that one day they, too, will meet their own goat-loving dirtbag, who they can do good work with and go through life together.
