Benjibopper

We made it to Nova Scotia and even survived the 'stag and doe', which was just a fun party at Dooley's, a local pool hall chain. My best man type guy Jeff rented us a room there and filled it with old buddies I hadn't seen in a cod's age. We drank Schooner and Oland's and talked old times, caught up a bit on who's married and who's expecting, and who's expecting to be a doctor and whatnot. The only other doe besides M was this young woman caught in a love triangle (and apparently loving it) between two of Jeff's friends.

We also had a nice dinner with the grandparents, who brought news of relatives confused by our communications (or communique's, or lack thereof), surrounding this whole wedding deal. Our slight diversion from tradition (the illusion of permanence) has confounded everyone for miles around the global village. Even one of M's best friends, her voice parlayed through someone else's telephone allusions, has taken offense, but to what exactly we don't know.

All we're trying to do is markate a brand new Love, celebrate it with our friends, family, and broader community, and have fun. Outta be easy, outta be simple enough (when a man meets a woman and they, fall in love). But wherever family is involved nothing is simple. And that illusion of permanence just adds more complications, complications goin' down.

But aside from these asides, we are being given overwhelming support from aunts and brothers and longtime friends emerging from memory shadows, and co-workers and strangers and mercantiles, all to give us one glorious day, what we hope will be the send-off on a longtime journey.

--Bopper

Labels: 2005, non-fiction, nova scotia, philosophy