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Published: Sep 16, 2005 01:40 PM
Mon - January 19, 2004
My Big Fat Camp Wedding--Part III
This post is the final segment of an
absolutely true three-part story. It won't make much sense to you unless you
read the earlier segments, which start here.
Squeegee
hurriedly gathered some wildflowers, borrowed a ring from one of the other
counselors, handed me both and ushered me under an oak tree for a crash course
on proposing holy matrimony. An essential part of the process, he explained,
was that a suitor had to drop to one knee while asking for a lady's hand. I
figured I could handle that part all right; on the verge of fainting from
fright, I teetered throughout his lecture. Blood pounded in my head. My breath
came in shallow gasps. I had never asked a girl on a date, let alone kissed
one. And here I was about to ask a counselor to marry
me.
"Come on," he urged. "Don't go to pieces. All you have to say is, 'Pluto, I love you. Will you marry me?' You can do this."
I wasn't sure that I shared his confidence.
Pluto was alone sponging tables when we walked into the cafeteria. She looked up, surprised, to see a little boy with a fistful of wildflowers staggering toward her, Squeegee close behind. My hands shook. I could hardly breathe.
"Pluto," Squeegee said gallantly. "Ron has something he wants to tell you."
He put a hand on my shoulder to offer encouragement, or perhaps to block my escape.
Her brown eyes stared inquisitively at me. I stared back but said nothing.
"Ron? Don't you have something you want to tell Pluto?"
My tongue flicked over parched lips. Ron? Who was Ron?
The hand on my shoulder tightened gently, pressing me toward the floor. I fell to both knees.
"Pluto, I love you ... " Squeegee prompted.
"Pluto I l-love you," I quavered. "Will you ma-a-a-rry me?"
She glanced at Squeegee, who nodded back vigorously. "He's serious," he said.
"Then I accept," she replied and kissed my forehead. I thrust the flowers at her, tossed her the ring, and dashed outside. Squeegee remained behind for a moment before racing to catch me. He waited for me to catch my breath, then offered a high-five. I accepted it.
"You were wonderful, Ron. Now I promise this is going to work out just fine."
Yeah, I thought. Just fine.
Squeegee's announcement at dinner that the wedding of counselor Pluto to camper Ron Bell would take place at Camp Beaverbrook in a few days' time drew hearty applause from the teenage counselors, laughter from the campers, and bewilderment from my cabin mates. Kessler looked most surprised of all.
"Are you really going to go through with it?" a boy in my cabin asked.
"I guess so."
"That's cool!"
I hadn't expected a response like that. Ostracism, maybe. A beating if I was lucky. But not respect. The kids didn't know that I had told Squeegee what had happened. Across the room, he met my gaze and smiled.
Squeegee made preparing us for the Big Day his personal project. He raided the camp's costume collection for a bow tie, a kid-sized tux and tails, and a plastic top hat for the groom. The bride he gave a white dress and a veil and a bouquet of wildflowers.
I don't remember much about the ceremony, I felt so nervous. But I do recall that Tahoma, an amiable riflery instructor who resembled one of Hell's Angels, gave the bride away (the shotgun wedding symbolism being lost on me at the time) and that Squeegee himself officiated in a black sports coat worn backwards so he looked like a priest. He uttered a few one-liners, pronounced a few solemn words by the "power vested in me by Camp Beaverbrook," and told me to kiss the bride.
"EEEEyeeew!" groaned the campers. "Hooray!" shouted the counselors. A few people threw rice on us, and the deed was done.
A photograph taken immediately afterwards and given to my mother at the end of the summer shows Tahoma standing beside the smiling bride and holding a toy shotgun. Squeegee is in the middle, carrying a relieved-looking groom on his shoulders. A throng of smiling campers surrounds us.
"I can't believe you went through with it," the boy from my cabin said.
My cabin mates hailed me like a conquering hero. Not only had no one been punished, but I had taken their joke to the ultimate extreme. If I had asked them to shine my shoes and polish my eyeballs, they would have done it. Kessler alone said nothing.
That night at dinner, as Pluto and I ate at separate tables with our peers, Squeegee announced that the camp would give each newlywed a present. Pluto received a day off with pay. I got a giant box of Hershey bars to share with my cabin. I offered one bar to each boy, including Kessler. He refused it. "I don't need chocolate," he snarled. "I've got cookies!" But no one listened to him.
We never did find out who stole his damn cookie.
All these events took place almost thirty years ago so I guess that makes my marriage to Pluto surprisingly successful considering the circumstances. I'm not sure how my current wife will take the news that she came in a distant second, but there's nothing to be done about it now save beg her forgiveness.
That and wonder whether Britney Spears got married for a similarly silly reason.
Update: You can read the totally unexpected Epilogue here.
"Come on," he urged. "Don't go to pieces. All you have to say is, 'Pluto, I love you. Will you marry me?' You can do this."
I wasn't sure that I shared his confidence.
Pluto was alone sponging tables when we walked into the cafeteria. She looked up, surprised, to see a little boy with a fistful of wildflowers staggering toward her, Squeegee close behind. My hands shook. I could hardly breathe.
"Pluto," Squeegee said gallantly. "Ron has something he wants to tell you."
He put a hand on my shoulder to offer encouragement, or perhaps to block my escape.
Her brown eyes stared inquisitively at me. I stared back but said nothing.
"Ron? Don't you have something you want to tell Pluto?"
My tongue flicked over parched lips. Ron? Who was Ron?
The hand on my shoulder tightened gently, pressing me toward the floor. I fell to both knees.
"Pluto, I love you ... " Squeegee prompted.
"Pluto I l-love you," I quavered. "Will you ma-a-a-rry me?"
She glanced at Squeegee, who nodded back vigorously. "He's serious," he said.
"Then I accept," she replied and kissed my forehead. I thrust the flowers at her, tossed her the ring, and dashed outside. Squeegee remained behind for a moment before racing to catch me. He waited for me to catch my breath, then offered a high-five. I accepted it.
"You were wonderful, Ron. Now I promise this is going to work out just fine."
Yeah, I thought. Just fine.
Squeegee's announcement at dinner that the wedding of counselor Pluto to camper Ron Bell would take place at Camp Beaverbrook in a few days' time drew hearty applause from the teenage counselors, laughter from the campers, and bewilderment from my cabin mates. Kessler looked most surprised of all.
"Are you really going to go through with it?" a boy in my cabin asked.
"I guess so."
"That's cool!"
I hadn't expected a response like that. Ostracism, maybe. A beating if I was lucky. But not respect. The kids didn't know that I had told Squeegee what had happened. Across the room, he met my gaze and smiled.
Squeegee made preparing us for the Big Day his personal project. He raided the camp's costume collection for a bow tie, a kid-sized tux and tails, and a plastic top hat for the groom. The bride he gave a white dress and a veil and a bouquet of wildflowers.
I don't remember much about the ceremony, I felt so nervous. But I do recall that Tahoma, an amiable riflery instructor who resembled one of Hell's Angels, gave the bride away (the shotgun wedding symbolism being lost on me at the time) and that Squeegee himself officiated in a black sports coat worn backwards so he looked like a priest. He uttered a few one-liners, pronounced a few solemn words by the "power vested in me by Camp Beaverbrook," and told me to kiss the bride.
"EEEEyeeew!" groaned the campers. "Hooray!" shouted the counselors. A few people threw rice on us, and the deed was done.
A photograph taken immediately afterwards and given to my mother at the end of the summer shows Tahoma standing beside the smiling bride and holding a toy shotgun. Squeegee is in the middle, carrying a relieved-looking groom on his shoulders. A throng of smiling campers surrounds us.
"I can't believe you went through with it," the boy from my cabin said.
My cabin mates hailed me like a conquering hero. Not only had no one been punished, but I had taken their joke to the ultimate extreme. If I had asked them to shine my shoes and polish my eyeballs, they would have done it. Kessler alone said nothing.
That night at dinner, as Pluto and I ate at separate tables with our peers, Squeegee announced that the camp would give each newlywed a present. Pluto received a day off with pay. I got a giant box of Hershey bars to share with my cabin. I offered one bar to each boy, including Kessler. He refused it. "I don't need chocolate," he snarled. "I've got cookies!" But no one listened to him.
We never did find out who stole his damn cookie.
All these events took place almost thirty years ago so I guess that makes my marriage to Pluto surprisingly successful considering the circumstances. I'm not sure how my current wife will take the news that she came in a distant second, but there's nothing to be done about it now save beg her forgiveness.
That and wonder whether Britney Spears got married for a similarly silly reason.
Update: You can read the totally unexpected Epilogue here.