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| Photo Courtesy Gwen Michel's Facebook page. |
By Will Brown
A half dozen of us sat at the breakfast table
talking about life and where it’s taken us over the years. All six of us were
married and living hundreds of miles away from each other, however, it was yet
another wedding that brought us together once again. Before the food came, I
exclaimed to no one in particular “This is the last wedding.”
There was a protestation that there will be one more
wedding next year, which was a valid point. But, that wedding will be somewhere
in the Caribbean, and the entire cast of characters will not be there.
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| Photo courtesy Gwen Michel |
Yet, on that morning in South Lake Tahoe, California
the six of us were just one offshoot of a group that has grown over the years
from a motley crew of four homeboys from Central Florida to a cross-country collection
of clowns at various stages of the corporate ladder.
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| Photo by Will Brown |
Nearly 3,000 miles away in the same Central Florida town that birthed this interwoven collection of friendships the father of one of the original crew celebrated the final groom and his bride on Facebook: “The HB4L era comes to an official end today in Lake Tahoe. They are all married now. Congratulations, Linebacker!! We love you.”
Linebacker was the groom’s position during his days
as a varsity and collegiate football player. His wife was a volleyball player.
They met on the campus of Florida Atlantic University in 2004. The years, the
long-distance relationship and other hardships could not detangle them.
The “Hot Boy 4 Life” days ended in the shadows of
the surrounding mountains on a winter afternoon with the rest of the members,
their wives and a group that is now known as “the extended family” looking on.
Those who were not standing next to the groom were in the seats of an exclusive
country club snapping pictures and recording the moment on social media.
Just before the two exchanged vows the groom popped
a surprise. He wanted to sing for his bride. So he put the microphone in his
right hand, his left in his pocket and sang for the 100,
or so, people in attendance. The bride fiddled with her tissue in her free
hand. Eventually, she clasped both hands around her husband’s as he sang and
the finality of marriage began to waft through the air at the converted golf
clubhouse.
By the time the groom made it to the third stanza
the couple looked each other dead in the eye —while most of their guests were
dabbing theirs. The setting sun bounced off the peerless lake. The light made
the couple resemble colorless silhouettes. Considering she was white, he was
black and their friends looked like some of everything in between it was apropos.
There was not a head table during the reception,
which was for the best. Self-selection meant the confederates who flew in from
across America occupied two tables in the corner. The flying insults, gummy
bears and stories were yet another indicator that time and distance have not
separated the bonds that brought us together in the first place.
With the accidental timing that has become commonplace, the menagerie of people who traveled to the California-Nevada border witnessed the bride and groom change seasons on the winter solstice.
Laughs and liveliness
-Wb
