Aunt Lydia's Wedding

 Aunt Lydia's Wedding

Walter E. Paul

Being only four years of age I could not have understood all of the activity that must have preceded this event. The evening was dark and rainy. Grandmother had opened the swinging doors between the living room and the parlor (sanctum santorium). The guests were arranged all about the walls on various kinds of chairs. Father and mother sat together, and I sat on a little stool at mother's left hand. On the other side of me sat a man whom I did not know; but was very kindly and engaged me in conversation while the crowd was waiting for the nuptial hour to arrive. He was asking me about my attire for the evening which consisted of a white waist with a ruffled collar and a red pleated skirt. I explained to him that I had a pair of pants at home which I wore on week days but for Sundays and special occasions I still wore dresses. He complimented me upon my appearance.

Those were the days when a boy did not jump directly out of diapers into pants. There was a period of transition which gave the boy time to acquire the art of buttoning up his pants or to handle the pe-hole. In the meantime, the mother had a little more time to gloat over the long hair or curls, etc., but the day came when the hair or curls were cut off and laid away and the dress was replaced by real pants. It was then that boyhood emerged in all of its glory.

As I was about to say, the rooms were decorated, and in one corner of the parlor there was a rustic bower with an evergreen arch. This is where the bride and groom (Wm. Joles) stood while Rev. Olmstead of the local Methodist Episcopal Church stood and read out of a book while Aunt Lydia and my prospective uncle looked very solemn and serious. I could not understand all of this and getting married seemed to be a very uninteresting matter to me. But the best was yet to come.

After the ceremony, everybody walked around past the happy couple and said nice things and there was a great deal of hand shaking. Afterwards everyone resumed their former places about the room. This was all Greek to me.

A bridal lunch or supper was then served a and my interest began to pick up. There was a huge bridal cake mounted on a large glass pedestal cake platter. The cake was brought in by a dapper little personage known as Cousin Brazee. It was to be presented to the bride for the first cut to be made. Cousin Brazee was a sort of family skeleton. I had never seen him before. Grandmother Curtis used to mention his name in sort of a hush. I did not understand, but I heard grandmother confide to mother once that Cousin Brazee had got in trouble on the stock market and it was only his mother's money that kept him out of jail and I thought Cousin Brazee a rather lucky person.

Some years later when we were moving to the Middle West we stopped at Cousin Brazee's place for a call. He was still a bachelor and lived with his mother. He was an accomplished piano player and entertained us with several selections on the piano. The music did not so impress me as the fact that he was a "chain" cigarette smoker. I was fascinated to see his fingers dancing over the keys so sprightly and at the same time keep his cigarettes going on an ash tray at his right hand. He was a stock broker telegraph operator. At that time I had seen a telegrapher operating a telegraph key and I wondered if that had something to do in getting into trouble with his mother's money. Afterward I came to know or understand that he had taken money out of the wrong pocket and played it on too narrow a margin on the stock exchange. When the market dropped and wiped out the margin, perhaps it was his mother's money that had to cover in order to keep Cousin Brazee out of the "hoose gow."

As I was about to say, Cousin Brazee had been chosen to bring in the bridal cake. He wore a high stand up collar, a black "cut-away" coat and white spats. As he pranced along, the cake held high, many were the "Ohs and Ahas" that proceeded from the crowd as he pranced through the rooms. Just before reaching the bridal bower, he tripped on the edge of a rug and fell head-long upon the floor.  The glass cake dish standard crashed into several pieces and the cake came off and rolled nearly to the feet of the bride. You can imagine the gasp of horror that came from the crowd. Some rushed out to pick up the cake, some to pick up the broken fragments of glass. Cousin Brazee picked himself up and retired from the stage of action. This was real entertainment for a small boy and I began to take more interest in the proceedings, although I cannot remember if we had any cake on our plates for lunch. Some would interpret this as an ill omen for the newly married couple; but not so. As far as I know, Aunt Lydia and Uncle Will lived a long, quiet and apparently happy life, although no children came to bless their union.

It was a dark night. As the guests were departing, Uncle Frank (Place), husband of Aunt Clara, mother's youngest sister, stood a long time at the window gazing intently upon the departing guests. Being curious, I crowded in beside his knee to see what the attraction was. He pushed me back, saying, "Stand back! Stand back! Robbers! Robbers!" I did not know what robbers were, but now I think he really feared the arrival of robbers who might take the wedding silverware.

I did not like Uncle Frank. He pricked my legs once upon a time and made me cry. Father did not like Uncle Frank either. He said once that Uncle Frank was so crooked he would even cheat his own relatives. I don't know that he ever cheated us as we never had anything to lose. I didn't know why it was any more a sin to cheat one's relatives than to cheat strangers. I heard father say that when Uncle Frank was a boy, he could start out in the morning with nothing but a broken handled jackknife and at night be in possession of all of his companion's pocket property. Uncle Frank always called it "good business." He tinkered watches, dealt in gold plated jewelry of questionable value, and later in life handled some lake resort real estate. He was a thin chested round shouldered man and was supposed to be threatened with consumption. The only unpleasant memory I now have is that later on I grew into one of his cast off "dude" overcoats and had to war it out. It was of a bright Irish green color, checkered, silk lined with a narrow plush color and was very narrow across my fast growing shoulders. In those days nothing must be wasted. We must let Uncle rest for the time being.

Aunt Lydia's marriage left grandfather and grandmother alone on their little farm situated on the highway between Norwich and Sherburne.