After last week’s final post you had to figure the next one was going to be fairly robust in size given the series of events I was confronted with over the weekend. In that post I omitted yet another event I was dragged, er, I mean, attended; that being the ordination of a priest on Saturday morning. You’ve been warned, this is going to take some time. Those of you with better things to do, which isn’t a particularly high standard to meet, are better off leaving now rather than wandering down this path with me. Those of you who are made of sterner stuff or dramatically under-entertained, here we go.
Friday saw my first time ever visit to a
Syrian Orthodox Church. We were attending the wedding of our next door neighbor’s
daughter and they are very Syrian. I didn’t know what to expect and that was
the right approach to take because it was very different. There were three
Syrian priests and an outlier that looked like a Catholic priest which might
have been a gesture for the Texan side of the marriage. So, four priests, I
settled in for the long haul. It was a very interesting ceremony with two large
televisions positioned that carried all the words being spoken. That was a good
thing because there were at least three languages interspersed through the
service with a lot of chanting. 
Some Very Happy Grandparents on Fathers Day
Bride Enters with her Dad 
The Four Priests at Work 
Newly Married
The chanting was actually fairly
eloquent and I got a real impression of hundreds of years of tradition included.
The bride was beautiful as they tend to be and she was led into the ceremony by
two flower girls who could not have been cuter. At certain points in the ceremony
the Syrian ladies broke into their trademark “la-la-la” chants which I took to
mean they were approving of something. It was all very esoteric but thoroughly enjoyable.
It was hard to miss the joy of the bride and groom and of our neighbors. All in
all, a very nice experience.
Beautiful Couple
Our Neighbors Exiting Church
After the wedding we had to rush home so
my Favorite Panamanian could change into her reception gown. I almost made the
mistake of asking her why two outfits for a single wedding were needed but some
latent intelligence sprung up and quashed that impulse. She wore the same gown
she wore to our son’s wedding and was equally stunning all these years later. We
were also picking up the neighborhood mafiosos who couldn’t attend the wedding
because Friday marked her last day working before retirement, so a lot to celebrate.
Those Two Flower Girls
The Panamanian Ladies
Which we proceeded to do in no uncertain
terms. The wedding reception was at a local country club and featured an open
bar. Need I say more. There was a generous cocktail hour during which I’m sure the
newly wedded couple were properly assaulted by their photographer. We set up near
the bar and began the process of celebration. We were assigned to sit at the same
table, 14 out of 14, so you can see where we must have been on the invite list,
but we still made it. After we moved into the dining area and met the other table
14ers. The newly married couple entered and, in one of the coolest moments of the
night, were greeted by the entire crowd as they moved across the dance floor.
They were then hauled up onto shoulders and the entire crowd cheered and danced
in welcome. 
With one of their Designated Gringos
The Welcoming Dance
The food was fantastic but the after dining
entertainment was fantastic. It started with a belly dancer. I know. Weird. At
a wedding reception. But it was part of their culture and there was really
nothing sexual about it. The lithe dancer made a point of including as many
ladies as possible and the two diminutive flower girls were truly entranced.
The rest of the night involved a serious amount of dancing so you know where
the Panamanian ladies were. Their spouses were doing the usual job of trying to
keep up with them. The music was overly loud and pulsating with a definitive
Arabic beat. I had memories of my time in the Middle East and remembered the popular
music there sounded a lot like a cat being mutilated. This was much better as
they incorporated popular music into their constant, very loud beat. There were
no slow dances except the parental ones with the bride and groom . It was an unmitigated,
simply outstanding time. I was thoroughly exhausted by the end of it. Although
that music is still echoing in my head three days later.
Table 14
The Mafia and Us 
The Belly Dancer 
Easy to be Culturally Sensitive
Since I qualify on most scales in the wicked
department, there was no rest to be had on Saturday morning. I had unwittingly agreed
to attend a church service a few months back when my Favorite Panamanian brought
it up. A young Colombian priest in training had served at our local church and
we had him over for lunch. In way of thanking us, he invited us to the ceremony
where he would be officially ordained as a priest. I don’t know what I was thinking
when I agreed to this as I usually leave the deep-Catholic stuff to my wife.
She knew she had me by the short and well, you know, as I had agreed to attend.
I felt trepidation set in when we pulled up to the church in central Worcester and
saw the immense crowd gathering. This was not going to be a simple ceremony. It
was a huge cathedral and was packed to the gills for the mass. We lucked into
some obstructed view seats near the back and I readied my mindset for the long haul.
The bishop led the mass and the entry took well over five minutes itself as he
was followed by seemingly every priest in central Massachusetts (more on them
later).
End of Night Photo with Neighbors and Newlyweds
The mass was something out of my worst
nightmares as it went on and on. I assuaged my feelings of frustration by
looking over at my wife and seeing her beaming in joy. Let’s just say we have different
MO’s when it comes to church going. We finally got to the part where they
garbed up the new priests, nearly a dozen, and I thought we were in the home
stretch (never trust a five page mass program). It turns out that every priest
in attendance, remember there was nearly a hundred of them, had to pass by and
lay hands on the head of the new priests. Do the math, a dozen priests, each
having their head with hands laid on by nearly a hundred other priests. But that
wasn’t the end of my agony, after a prayer, the priests all filed back by the
newly ordained priests so they could hug each one and deliver a small message
to each. It was at this point I began to lose hope. 
View from our Seats
New Priests Lined Up
I was getting antsy and not just because
I was in a church service for longer than two hours. We planned on leaving for
my son’s home as soon as the service ended which got later and later as the serial
hugging went on and on. I may be exaggerating a bit, but hey, it’s my blog. We eventually
did escape and hit the road north to New Hampshire.
Afterwards, Our Friend is One on Right with Bowed Head
We made fairly good time up to New Hampshire
and soon had granddaughters draped about our shoulders. The first order of business
was to take the whole crew to the local ice cream shop. It was fun watching the
BRS and BR3 flit about the playground there while occasionally making runs at
their ice cream. My wife and I had volunteered for babysitter duties so my son
and the ABFA could take in a show with some friends. Fortunately, grandparents
and granddaughters seem to have the same effect on each other – exhaustion.
Both kids went down at bed time without serious issues.
You Know Why I'm Smiling, We Are Leaving!
BR3 Eluding Abuela at Ice Cream Shop 
BRS
While their parents were on their way
back from the show my son asked my Favorite Panamanian to heat up some empanadas
that she had made for them as apparently the food at the venue was horrible. So
late night empanadas with them when they arrived and received a full report on
their progeny’s behavior. We all slept really well that night. What is it about
church that is so exhausting; okay, that might have been the granddaughters.
Sisters
Happy Abuela
Father’s Day dawned with the obligatory
BRS morning wakeup. The ABFA and my wife did an admirable job of fixing up a fantastic
brunch while engulfed in BRS/BR3 activities as well. They did their very best
to give the dads a break. After brunch gifts were brought out and a major
familial conspiracy was unmasked. My wife and two children had conspired
together to buy me an Apple watch! I never even contemplated getting one but it
was truly love at first sight. The biggest surprise lay in store however. I was
able to program the watch myself! I know, there are certain people reading this
who are acquainted with my level of electromagnetic competence who are just now
pulling themselves off the floor from the shock of that last statement. It
turns out the Apple watch is almost idiot proof (I may be the acid test for
that). All I had to do was bring into proximity of my I-phone and it virtually
programmed itself. 
Grandpa Expected to Get Down to Lego Level
BRS and BR3 With Grandpa and his New Watch 
Dinner with ABFA's Parents
Somehow we took in the entire game
without being called away by our better haves. You just gotta love Fathers’
Day! The granddaughters flitted in and out, highly entertaining each time. The BRS
and I invented a new game where I would steal the ball from her and then deny
her earnest efforts to recover it. She somehow found this immensely amusing. The
Red Sox sealed their win just as we were summoned to dinner.
Mother and Son
Hanging with Dad 
The Floor is Lava! 
Busting some Dance Moves with Mom 
Yoga Time 
Beautiful Family
Our hosts had prepared a filet mignon meal
that was every bit as good as you could possibly imagine. The best part, as is
wont to happen, was gathering around the table with these fine people. Riggins
took up station under the table for any stray morsels. I was lucky enough to
sit next to BR3 on one side and my son on the other. Too much fun. There is a rhythm
and vitality to family gatherings such as this that simply cannot be simulated.
You’re left with a feeling of simple joy at the opportunity to share life with
those closest to you. Some people, such as yours truly are infinitely lucky in
this department. After dinner the granddaughters entertained us with some yoga
and turning the floor into lava which I guess is an internet thing (I was first
exposed to this by the FBR). Times like this are also known for the velocity of
their passage as it was time to depart before I was fully ready to say goodbye.
It was a long and fairly quiet drive home, since my wife was driving and doesn’t
appreciate my verbal assistance despite an entirely different viewpoint when
she is co-piloting, but I digress.
Great Dad
FBR Manning the Drums for Soundcheck
Speaking of the FBR she had her own very
special Father’s Day weekend since Wingman’s band took them to New York City.
This meant they could spend the entire weekend together. As I was sitting down
in the Man Cave late last night my daughter called to catch me up on the
weekend antics. The FBR loves the stage. This does not surprise anyone who has
met this bundle of energy and joy. Wingman’s band allowed her on stage for
their pre-show sound checks both Friday and Saturday and she took to it like
the proverbial duck to, well, you know. The FBR attended one of the shows, clad
in her ear mufflers (the shows are louder than even Syrian wedding receptions).
My favorite photo of the weekend shows the FBR signaling “I Love You” to
Wingman while he was performing. She apparently learned the hand signal in
school and unveiled it appropriately at the show. My daughter says both father
and daughter were seriously rocking out at the show, which included Wingman’s signature
keyboard handstands.
Wingman Doing his Thing
The family met up again in New York City
the next day for more together time. This is needed because they won’t see each
other again until the end of July as the tour wanders the lower 48. My daughter
was still laughing when she told me about the FBR’s first ever taxi ride. The
FBR had heard about taxis and thought this would be the height of sophistication
to take one. Granted, never having been in one, she might have had unreasonably[JP1] high expectations. As a treat they hailed
a cab together and took it back to the train station on their way home. This
was the absolute best part of the day for the FBR. Go figure. So there you have
it. A very full and unbelievably quick (except for the whole ordaining priest
part) weekend. This is the stuff a happy life is constructed of. 
FBR Signaling Dad During Show
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
FBR in the Big City Yesterday
RECURRING CHARACTERS:
ABFA – Amazing Best Family
Athlete - my daughter
in law; BR3 – Blog Reader #3 – granddaughter
#3; BRS - Blog Reader the Sequel -
second granddaughter; Cantankerous Friend – friend since grade school who likes to argue
about everything, poses as radical leftist to attract women; Curbside Girls – close friends of my
daughter acquired during her single days in Brooklyn; Deckzilla – our backyard deck which grew to monstrous dimensions
once my wife got involved in planning; Favorite
Panamanian - the wife (of course); FBR
- First Blog Reader - first granddaughter; First Friday – celebrations to mark the First Friday of the Week; Great Aunt - my elder sister; Keene Friends 1 & 2 – friends since
high school from my home town of Keene, NH; Kindergarten Friend – friend since kindergarten whom I reunited
with after many years; Maine and
Virginia Musqueteras – two close friends of my wife – her US sisters, my
wife is the 3rd musquetera (musketeer); Neighborhood Mafioso - wife's close friend and Panamanian mafia
member; PanaGals – female relatives /friends
of my wife from Panama; Panamanian/Latin
Mafia – inevitable group of Latino friends my wife accumulates wherever we
have lived & their spouses; Pittsburgh
College Roommate– high school friend, also a “Minor Celebrity” in
Pittsburgh; Riggins - also known as
the Grandpuppy, son's dog; Soxfather
- my brother in law; Tia Loca – wife’s younger sister; Wingman – my
son in law; Wingmom – Wingman’s
mom, of course
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