“MR. CONDUCTOR, if you please” came a voice from the rear of the reindeer. Then Andie and Seth sang the song they were dressed to sing. The tune sounded somewhat like “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”—I thought.
Gaby is getting married
To Stockbridge the family came.
Gaby will have a partner
But nobody knows the name.
The two of them began dancing on the little raised platform, and the roomful of people were so amused, I decided Seth should cancel the idea of becoming a writer and become a wildly successful party planner.
She says stop asking questions
She loves this little game
We say stop acting goofy
Tell us the goddamn name!
Andie and Seth might have had more verses to their song, but they trotted offstage while the audience was still in the palm of their hands—er, hooves.
As the reindeer departed, Lizzie and Mike replaced them. No one had the same hamminess of Seth and Andie, but none of my children or in-laws was particularly shy.
Lizzie spoke first. “Usually, at rehearsal dinners someone stands up and says ‘I’ve known the bride since she was a little girl.’ In this case, though, I’ve got to say I’ve known the bride since I was a little girl. I’ve actually known her since before I was a little girl, since before I was a baby, since before…Well, you get the idea.
“Personally, I think the greatest thing of the many great things about my mom would have to be her honesty. She manages to be honest without ever hurting, and that is a talent.
“When other mothers would tell their kids, ‘Oh, that vaccination needle isn’t going to hurt,’ Gaby would say, ‘The needle’s going to hurt. But it’s only going to last a second.’ When other mothers would say, ‘You look awful in that orange dress. You’re too fat for it,’ Gaby would say, ‘You look wonderful in that orange dress, but, one woman’s opinion, you looked even more wonderful in the blue dress with the black jacket.’ So, thank you, Gaby, for always telling the truth…and never letting me realize how incredibly sneaky and manipulative you were being.”
The audience roared.
Then Mike leaned in and said, “Just one more thing. Getting married doesn’t mean you stop being the best nurse in town. Keep the lasagna and chicken soup coming. They work a lot better than the radiation.”
Tallulah shouted, “Go, Gaby,” and I was determined I was not going to cry.
This event was well rehearsed, because as Lizzie and Mike were replaced onstage by Claire, Gabrielle, Toby, and the sourpuss known as Gus, there was “changeover” music—a version of “Away in a Manger” played at breakneck speed.
Claire began, “Most kids present their parents with problems when they’re teenagers—drugs, booze, sex, disrespect. I was different. I waited until I was about twenty-three before I did anything like that. I was the perfect teen, but I was a…challenged adult. No matter. Gaby was there for me. Always. Every time I needed her, she’d get in the car and make the trip to South Carolina in one day and night. She combined just the right amount of listening with the right amount of persuasive scolding. And if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t be standing here today with three kids and a job and the ability to run my own life, no matter how rough that turns out sometimes.”
Claire raised a glass of water in my direction. “Thank you, Mom. It’s your turn now. Whoever you’re marrying is the luckiest man in the world.”
Then Claire looked over at Gus and said, loud enough for all to hear, “If you roll your eyes, it’s back to the kids’ table for you.”