"THE SUMMER____NO SWEETER WAS EVER;
THE SUNSHINY WOODS ALL ATHRILL;
THE GREYLING ALEAP IN THE RIVER,
THE BIGHORN ASLEEP ON THE HILL...."
Summers come and go, some more memorable than others. Having settled into our hut in Vetsville on the edge of campus, the reality of our upcoming marriage within a fortnight was fast approaching and a sobering feeling of responsibility was often on my mind. Was the future we had chosen for ourselves the right path? This was one of those crossroads you come to when you think about roads not taken. Almost 51 years later, my retrospect-scope leaves no doubt that our instincts were spot on. That's the beauty of being able to look back on one's life and taking pleasure in it. That being said, I must apologize to my reader that, alas, after a long and fruitless search throughout our home, I have lost all of our wedding photos save one which I will share with you.
 |
| Vetsville...our first "home" |
Suzanne studied and I went 24 miles down the road in the yellow Studebaker each day to work as an orderly at Gouverneur Hospital to make some money as well as to become more energized about medicine. A kind old German doctor took me under his wing as well as meeting a medical student from Upstate who was doing an externship there.
By the time the weekend of July 15th arrived, there was much preparation for a home wedding on Suzanne's family farm. During the year I was away, Suzanne, raised as a Presbyterian, had covered a good part of New York State, searching for a Rabbi to marry us, it being nearly impossible to find such a broad-minded soul. Rabbi Jonathan Eichhorn in Kingston, NY, a Reform Rabbi, agreed to marry us, after meeting with her. A kind and gentle man, he, like his father, a Rabbi in Texarkana, Arkansas, was active in the interfaith community and was one of the very few Rabbis that would officiate at couples of different faiths. Oddly enough, he initially thought she was the Jewish half of the couple, her name being Blumenstock.
 |
| Rabbi Eichhorn |
The big weekend arrived with our siblings, all sorts of Aunts and Uncles, cousins, and friends arriving from all over. It was the first time I met much of her extended family, as it was for Suzanne, mine. Peg, Sue's mom was to single-handedly do the catering, a local keyboardist from the local church would provide the music, and her gown was made by her best friend. None of that "say yes to the dress" or gazillion dollars spent. It was to be under a tent in the sheep's pasture and, being a Jewish ceremony, would be under the chupah, the traditional wedding canopy. Four men held it up over our heads, my Jewish Uncle Stanley, Suzanne's two Protestant brothers, Frank and John, and her Uncle Jack, an Episcopal Priest, wearing his clerical collar. The best man was my oldest friend, Lou Lobes, a Roman Catholic and a medical student at Cornell. I think we set the bar on ecumenicism. Lou had even agreed to drive one of my very talkative aunts from New York, a deed above and beyond the requirements for a best man. Suzanne had her own attendants including Sue Fox, the Maid of Honor and my sister Lois, the Matron of Honor. Her husband Frank was an Usher.
The morning of the ceremony, it was gray and rainy, the fields being somewhat muddy. Rabbi Eichhorn assured me he had a special "in" with God and would assure clear skies were ahead for the evening. Sure, enough, one hour before the ceremony, the clouds parted and the sun came out! We got the tent up and spent a good part of the morning podding peas for the creamed peas that were to be served with the meal. I had spent the night before in the White House on the grounds of the Tryon Inn in Cherry Valley with my best man, having some drinks and chewing the proverbial fat.
 |
| Spent my wedding eve in the house on the left |
I'm sure you've all heard the old story of the country mouse and the city mouse, one of Aesop's Fables, which has been re-told countless times by many different authors. Well, we were the mice, our families and guests coming from two different worlds. The ceremony went off beautifully culminating in the traditional glass-breaking. We cheated somewhat on this by my stepping on a flash bulb (remember those?) wrapped in a linen napkin.
 |
| Not very traditional but it worked! |
During the ceremony, my sister and her husband faced each other and he noticed a big smile on her face. Afterwards, he told her how sweet it was for her to smile at him during the ceremony. In fact, she was not smiling at him at all but at the Holstein cow that had meandered over to the fence to see what was going on!
 |
| Wedding guest??? |
People from the village drove up and down the road all night to see what was going on at Peglen farm. I can unequivocally say this must have been the first and perhaps only Jewish wedding in this village. There was no horah or the bride and groom being carried around in chairs above the crowd, it being a very low key event. But the city mice did mix with the country mice, sometime's resulting in humorous endings. I think my dad's side of the family was able to keep up with the alcoholic consumption of the rural attendees. One of my uncles approached the church organist and requested she play "September Song". Her nervous reply was..."Oh, I don't know any Jewish songs!"
 |
| The Mayer's |
There really was no honeymoon as Suzanne had to head back to Canton for an exam. As it was scheduled for Monday, she had asked the professor if she could postpone it as she was getting married over the weekend. In all his benevolence, he allowed her to take it on Tuesday!!! We spent our first night as a married couple driving through a terrifyingly thick fog, pea soup, along Rte. 20, towards the Schraft's Motor Inn in Albany, the only stop we made before arriving back in Canton. That inn actually still stands as a nondescript motel along the NY Thruway where the Masspike starts.
 |
| Our one honeymoon night! |
That summer was to continue with studying and work, with visits back to New York and Cherry Valley to visit family. I got to know my in-laws and Suzanne, my parents. Peg was a real character, driving to Cooperstown each day in her stiletto heels and coming home with many wonderful stories about the Pediatric Department at Bassett Hospital where she was the administrative assistant. I remember her proudly telling us about "her" doctors as well as the "hippies" she had met in Cherry Valley who lived in a commune in the outlying hills. Some hippies...it was the poet, Allen Ginsberg and his coterie of friends. She befriended everyone she met.
 |
| The local "hippies"! |
 |
| Peg, at home on the farm |
Tex took pride in being a Cornell-educated farmer, always experimenting with breeding, vegetable hybrids, and warmly showing guest around the farm. Each summer, he and Peg would host a big clam bake for friends and family, preceded by a hayride on a wagon pulled by his trusty tractor. As Oscar Hammerstein wrote, "This was a real nice clambake, we're mighty glad we came...". We ate them raw and steamed, vying for how many we could eat! Endless clams, the freshest sweet corn and plenty of beer!
 |
| Tex in later years |
The summer was all too short and, before we knew it, I was back to Belgium and Suzanne had returned to campus for her final semester.
Comments
Post a Comment