OCTOBER 4, 1997: That Guy, Part II

OCTOBER 4, 1997

Mena, Arkansas. 

I woke up that morning, around 9, maybe? I sat at the breakfast table at my parents' house, the house where I grew up, across from my dad. I think I was enjoying a cup of coffee with him. Maybe I had something to eat? I was wearing jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, I think.

My sister Liz was there, or was she at a hotel? With Steve, Haley, and Courtney? She and Mom were bustling around, doing things. I think Mom drove me to the beauty shop where Teena Brown would do my hair. That salon was where Books N Stuff is now. 

Funny. I had my hair done in what is now the Paranormal Romance section. 

I had this Xerox copy of a book cover with me. 

Well, of course I was going to have a Princess Leia hairdo for my wedding, just like hers was to wed Han Solo. (At least according to THAT timeline.)

DUH.

I didn't have the diamond tiara but I did have a pretty little strand of white silk flowers, seed pearls, and sequins. Still have that, too. 

Teena pulled my hair into a French twist and placed the flowers across the top. She hosed it all down with a ton of hair spray and Dad picked me up to drive me to the First United Methodist Church on 9th Street.

It was a beautiful day. Blue sky, slight cool breeze. The leaves on the tall oaks in Janssen Park were just starting to turn, a slight tinge of yellow on the edges.

There was already activity going on at the church. Shelton Bohlman had already brought the two large candelabras, the candles, and the flowers: asters, daisies, tiny mums. Preparations for the reception were going on in the kitchen and the fellowship hall.

Dad helped me carry my "stuff" in to the Bill Spencer Sunday School Room right across from the choir closet and the hall telephone hanging on the wall. And there I sat. All alone, for the rest of the morning.

I found this rather amusing at the time. I'd waited for this day all my life, as all women do, thinking for a long time it would never come, and thinking that day: "This 'pre-game' show seems kinda anti-climactic" compared to the countless times I'd seen it depicted in films. Sure, I could hear activity outside the door, but my room was rather quiet. No panic over dark pink nail polish and broken champagne glasses (Steel Magnolias). No painkiller induced grogginess due to female issues (Sixteen Candles) and I'm sure there are other tragically silly cinematic wedding moments.

(By the way, my nails had already been done earlier in the week, at the big nail salon in the Texarkana Mall, which is still in business today. They were a lovely mauve color.) 

I quietly did my makeup. Got into my wedding attire. I don't even remember anyone coming in to check on me until I poked my head out to have Mom or Liz come zip me up. I may have even just done that myself.

I didn't mind the quiet time I had that morning. I don't do well in chaos as it is. And I wasn't even nervous. Cold feet didn't even cross my mind. I already "felt" married. The "big" wedding ceremony just seemed like a formality.

Or a "dog and pony show" as Brother Crooks called it at the rehearsal the night before. Thanks a lot.

My soon-to-be father-in-law came in with Mom and Dad to take the obligatory bride prep photos: Mom placing her authentic Castilian lace mantilla over the Princess Leia hairdo; Dad placing the garter. Then it was time!

As I was getting ready to walk down the hallway to the front door, Pastor Davis Thompson, who was pastor at FUMC when I was in between graduation and job hunting a few years before and was a tremendous help to me trying to "find myself", call the hall phone to ask what time the wedding started so he could be there.

"In 5 minutes," I replied.

"It's at one?"

"Yeah."

Oops, well, he wasn't going to make it from Hope or Benton or wherever he was at that time, but he wished us well. When I hung up I could hear strains of "With You I'm Born Again" by Billy Preston and Syreeta, played on the piano by Kay Mannon. I took Dad's arm and off we went, out onto the front porch and back into the sanctuary.

I wasn't sure how the opening of the ceremony looked until we viewed the video months later. Uncle John seated his sister Wanda, my mother-in-law. Cousin Quentin, aka Cue Ball, seated Mom. I gave a hug to my friend Claudia who was manning the guestbook in the foyer, with her daughter by her side. I cannot remember the daughter's name.

The music from the opening credits of the film Ladyhawke, by Alan Parsons, played while Tiffany lit all those candles on the candelabras. The song is three minutes long and it synced perfectly. She lit the last candle as the final notes died away.

Cassie went forth and strew flower petals. Kattie carried the rings on a small white pillow that Mom had made. Then Liz walked down as Matron of Honor, then Kay Mannon started the traditional wedding march from Wagner's Lohengrin.

And there was Han Solo, with his perfect smile and ponytail, at the altar, with his best man/son Danny by his side.

The "dog and pony show" only lasted about 10 minutes. Traditional vows right out of the Methodist hymnal, a unity candle (which lasted until about 2011)...I read Matthew Arnold's "Longing." (First heard on the show Beauty and the Beast. The one with Linda Hamilton and Ron Perlman.) Rings, kiss...Papaw Ron snapping photos all the while. And it all took place in the same place we'd officially met a little over a year before during Vacation Bible School, July '96. There's a guitar story there...

And as Mr. and Mrs. Donald L. Riddle walked back up the aisle, the Star Wars Throne Room Theme played. 

The reception was a blur...because we had a plane to catch. In Little Rock. Three hours away. But we had cake, and punch, the usual. For Don's angel food groom's cake, adorned by 12" replicas of (again) Han Solo and the Princess, Don reached into his long black coat and pulled out a toy retractable light saber to "cut" it.

Laughter ensued. I had no idea he'd been carrying it around all this time.

I think I got to eat one small plate of thumbprint cookies, baklava, coconut bon bons, and mixed nuts, as well as a piece of cake - chocolate with white icing, of course - and my favorite pineapple punch, all before I went to change into my peach crepe getaway dress. The guests gathered on the front porch, I tossed my mini-bouquet...have no idea who caught it. Maybe Carol? My student from McGehee who was going to be staying with the girls while we were gone. Don tossed the garter, or the "substitute" one rather. The "official" one, the "something blue" one belonged to Mom and has been passed down for most of the Lee side brides. Don't know who caught that either.

We hopped into a minimally decorated Chrysler Cirrus and off to Little Rock we fled. Mom told us later that the party went on for a while, long after we'd left. Somewhere there are folders full of pictures taken by disposable Kodak cameras that were set out on various tables around the fellowship hall. I'll have to see if I can find them.

I don't think we even stopped until we got to the airport. We got on the plane as soon as they started to board (this was LONG before TSA made flying, or preparing to fly, so tedious) and since it was our wedding day, they upgraded us to first class.

So, so, soooo cool. Even with the Princess Leia hairdo full of birdseed.

We flew to Dallas first, and had a 2 hour layover, so we ate appetizers in the Applebee's there at DFW. We got to San Francisco around midnight. The car we rented was a 1997 Chrysler Sebring convertible - it was awesome. We stayed at the Grant Plaza Hotel in Chinatown, another bit of awesomeness. I did get a photo of the stained glass skylight in the entryway. The whole place looks very different now.

San Francisco was amazing. We drove a little of 101, toured the Presidio, drove across the Golden Gate Bridge, walked through the Muir Woods, ate at a deli in Sausalito, drove Lombardy Street, ate at a Chinese restaurant...in Chinatown...ate seafood at Fisherman's Wharf, and had our portrait drawn by a street artist. We didn't get to tour Alcatrazz because it was closed for repairs at the time. I bought T-shirts, kept the one with the Chinese symbols on it for many years, and bought embroidered slippers, which I still have.

We rode the streetcars, drove right up to the Transatlantic Pyramid building...we were driving down the street and suddenly there it was, right in front of us. I looked up and went, "Oh! There it is!" We drove by the Palace of Fine Arts. We walked into a music store in Haight-Ashbury, me wearing a black cat suit, a long black coat, and the leather biker cap I'd just bought at a thrift store there; Don was wearing Wranglers, a banded collar shirt and a brown sportscoat. Two homeless guys thought he looked familiar. 

"Aren't you Randy Travis?"

"No, he's Travis Tritt. Hey, y'all!! That's Travis Tritt!"

People started to gather and follow us...so...we left. Running across the street to get back in the car, quick!

On the last full day before flying home, we went to get in the car, in a secure parking garage, mind you, only to discover someone had cut a hole in the soft top, and stole our video camera out of the trunk. Luckily, the tape inside it was just footage of us driving 101, the wedding video was safe at home. So we spent the morning filing police reports and turning the car back in to the rental company, and getting another one. A Chevrolet? Honda? Don't remember. It was black. Not the greatest way to spend the last full day of your honeymoon but we did have the afternoon and that night. We had dinner at the Cliff House Inn overlooking the ocean. Incidentally, when Nana and Papaw McChristian passed away, I found an old paperweight of the Cliff House among their belongings. We hung out at a cool little bar called Zeki's. I doubt it's still there.

We crammed a lot of activity into just three days.

The only sad aspect of that entire wedding day, was that it was also the same day the Richardson's of McGehee laid their son, Gary, to rest. He had collapsed after a football practice only four days prior. The first student I ever lost in such a manner. Heartbreaking. The Owls went on to play in the State Championship that season. They didn't win, but they made up for it in '98. When they DID win. We were in Los Alamos, New Mexico by then, but we heard all about it!

Our flight back to Dallas was somewhat dramatic. We ran into bad weather over Oklahoma and I thought, "Great. I'm finally married and we're gonna die in a plane crash. Over Oklahoma. Ugh!!"

But we made it back to McGehee, all in one piece.

And the rest...is history. 

THIS IS RC

  This is RC. He is 14 years old. He first came to our house (loft apartment) in 2008. He was a stray in downtown Texarkana; not a kitten but slightly older, that we'd seen lurking around near the Dowd Building were the Groovetones used to rehearse. Don couldn't get him to come to him, but one of our daughters did, while we were on vacation in New Orleans and she was watching the dogs. She went out to walk them one day, saw this orange cat, took the dogs back in, and when she went back down to get the cat, he was sitting right by the Texas Boulevard door, ready to come in. He was done with being outside, and just made himself at home. He's pretty much been an inside cat ever since.

This daughter wanted to name him "Carrot," but he had this loud, grating purr you could hear all the way across the room. I was thinking he was more of a "Rusty," and not just his color - he sounded like a rusty motorboat. So...Rusty Carrot?

He was also extremely friendly and cuddly. When I took him to Dr. Martin's in DeQueen to get "fixed," I officially named him "RC." It suits him perfectly. When I picked him up the next day, they told me he was the friendliest cat they'd ever had in there.

He's a real "people person." Or cat, rather.

He's also a "cat's cat." He was a big mentor to all the othe felines who joined the family afterward. Tempi, his brother from another mother, Sophie the Weirdo, and Ingrid the Hutt, all fell under his tutelage.

Anyway...

All of our cats are indoor cats. After we moved to The Plantation, there were a couple of RC escapades out into the world, if a door wasn't shut soon enough. The sneaky bastard usually leaped the fence and slipped through a broken window in our neighbor's basement. (It has since been repaired under new ownership.) He would also ease through an opening underneath that same house. I can remember trying to herd him out of there numerous times. But he'd always come back. He'd be on the back steps or the front porch ready to come back in. He would ALWAYS come back. I guess he still had some of those downtown street smarts because he never ventured farther, and he always knew there was food out on the front porch for the feral cats. And the possums and the raccoons... Good motivator, food.

Let me also mention he's quite good at hiding indoors. I always do a "cat check" before we go anywhere, and once before a New Orleans trip, we couldn't find him anywhere. He was behind the TV cabinet in the living room. Just chillin'. 

Dude. Seriously?

He and Sophie are now relegated to the upstairs porch. They go in and out of a cat door, and have the luxury of both comfortable beds inside and sunny patches to lie in outside. They are separated from the downstairs areas by a makeshift barrier at the top of the front staircase. They have no access to any outside entrances.

Since Tempi died in February, RC has somehow mysteriously managed to get outside, not once but TWICE. At his age, (and weight - he's always been a big, chonky boy), there's NO WAY he could jump or climb from the second-story porch without hurting himself. We don't think that's what he's doing. All the sudden, he's just...not in the house. But we fill the food bowl, watch the front porch security cameras, and when we see him, we go get him and bring him in.

Well, however...last Saturday, RC decided to dodge the housesitter at some point. Don was in Forrest City with me, and then I went to Conway for a couple of days. When we were told he was missing, we monitored cameras all night Thursday and didn't see him. I contacted our neighbor, Cristy, who lives in the house with the previously broken window and she said he'd been on her porch on Wednesday. Her boys wanted to pet him but he wouldn't let them. This was good news because he hadn't shown on the cameras since Sunday, upon reviewing recordings. I knew he was still around. I had every confidence he was.

I returned to Forrest City from Conway and Don decided to go back to Texarkana earlier than he'd planned so he could cat herd. Just as he was pulling into town, I got a message from Cristy that RC was in her yard. She even sent a photo. When Don got to the house, RC was on the back steps ready to come in. And was quite vocal about it, as most orange tabbies are about everything. He's very talkative. He was either happy to be back in or mad he didn't get in sooner. I'm sure he totally blames us.

I've been told Sophie was not particularly happy about any of this either. She berated RC most of the night, so much so that he was hiding from her in Don's wardrobe, trying to be as quiet as possible. She eventually climbed in there with him, because they're pretty bonded since Tempi's gone. Maybe he's looking for Tempi, who got very sick all of a sudden, was taken to the vet, and didn't come home except in his little cat-shaped urn that sits on the nightstand in the guest room. He may have been attempting to live out some of his early adventurous outdoor days, but I don't think that worked out so well.

In conclusion, for almost two days we were a little anxious about this disappearance because we were both far away and neither of us could get home sooner to find him. Luckily, we had good people helping out in our absence. RC has lived much longer with us than he would have as a downtown stray. When his time comes, he deserves his own urn on the mantle with Jack, Kongol, Ted, and his best buddy Tempi. Also, that daughter who brought him to us, who wanted to call him "Carrot", is Cassie Riddle. He's technically her cat. Her son Gabriel loves him best out of all the Riddle Cats. They even like to FaceTime each other.

He may be just a cat, but he's a pretty important one. And he better keep his butt in the house.