Lester’s wife died, and Millicent’s husband died. That was five years ago, when Lester and Millicent were both 70.
A mutual friend introduced them. They recently got married in a ballroom full of family and friends.
The invitation from Lester and Millicent read, “Come to a Party. Join us for the festivities – cocktails, dinner, dancing, and a wedding ceremony. We’re getting married!”
Of course, my partner and I said we’d attend, and on the designated night, we were greeted at the ballroom by a ventriloquist and a dummy, who asked us our names and told us the number of the table where we would sit. While we and the rest of the crowd were coming in and finding our assigned tables, a band played classic rock ‘n’ roll. A magician wandered the ballroom, pulling various objects out of guests’ ears, making other objects disappear, and performing card tricks. A clown twisted balloons into animal shapes. It was, indeed, festive.
After everyone was seated, a preacher and Lester stood at the front of the room facing an aisle that had been created among the tables. The band stopped playing, the lights were dimmed, and a spotlight shone on the rear door. The room was absolutely quiet. There was no chatting, no laughter, just silence as the guests looked to the back of the room.
The guests stood up and erupted in applause and shouts of joy as Millicent, glowing in the warm spotlight, came through the door and walked down the aisle on the arm of her father.