Wedding Day Shocker: We Almost Missed Our Own Reception!

I guess I have weddings on the brain, as my daughter is getting married next May, (hooray!), and just today, I had to drive back to the town I was married in, to get a copy of my marriage license

that was needed for dependent health insurance coverage purposes by my employer. It reminded me of my own wedding some thirty two year s ago and how my new bride and I almost missed our own wedding reception!
We were married in a church in one town, while the reception was a good 30-45 minutes away in another town.

A lot of pictures were taken by the photographer at the church, after the ceremony, so mostly everyone had left and started to drive over to the reception. Eventually, there were only three of us left at the church, me, my new wife, and one of her brothers.   My wonderful sister and her husband had let us borrow their beautiful, luxurious  Lincoln Continental for our special day, and my wife's brother was acting as our chauffeur.
So my wife and I lock up the church (I had a key, but that's another story), and go to the car where her brother has parked it, smack dab in the middle of the street, waiting our exit. Everyone else has left by this point and we are the only ones at the church. Her brother steps out of the car, and somehow, ends up power locking all the doors......with the only set of keys in the ignition!

In 1979, there were very few cars with power locks and being unfamiliar with the Lincoln, my wife's brother had just locked out the newly married couple. Let me remind you: .there are no cell phones at this point. Anyone I could call that might be able to help is on their way to my wedding reception, which is going to be lame if the situation can't be rectified.
I let myself back into the church and called the police. The phone call was right out of a stand-up comedian's routine: " Uh, police..yeah, I just got married and am on my way to my own reception, but we've locked the keys in the car, which is in the middle of the street......I wish I could have seen the  person's face at police headquarters that took my call. Anyway, they said they would get there when they could. The town I got married in was more of a city than a town, and I'll bet they had higher priorities.
So I ran back outside in my wedding tux and relayed the update to my wife and my new brother-in-law. In what seemed an instant, a passerby asked us what the problem was...let's face it, it had to be an odd scene for him to stumble on:  a very worried bride and groom, all dressed up, standing in front of a church, with a big car in the middle of the street.
We told him of our dilemma and he said he might be able to help us. With that, he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small piece of hanger wire. Within seconds, he had opened the car.
.

We thanked him profusely! I ran back into the church, called the police and told them our issue had resolved itself. I ran back outside and into the Lincoln Town Car. We then proceeded hastily to our reception. No one was the wiser.


P.S. Yes, that's the actual piece of wire in the picture to the left. Maybe I'll bring it to my daughter's wedding....just in case......

Bullies!

There have been a lot of stories about bullies the past several months and new anti-bullying legislation has been passed in several states. Has anyone of us not been bullied at some point in our lives? Let me recall one of the best bullies I ever had the misfortune to be a repeated victim of.
 Let's call him for blog purposes , Mike. Yes, even though it's almost 50 years ago that Mike bullied me, I am not ashamed to admit that I am afraid that if I use his real name, he may somehow find out, and seek revenge. I'm serious. Let me give you a few details about Mike. He had  shocking red hair which was long for it's day and was always uncombed. He moved around in a very fluid, lanky  fashion and had the most "I don't care about anything at all" attitude that I ever saw. He seemed to always wear low cut sneakers with floppy laces. I remember him burning his awful eighth grade report card in the back of our school, something akin to draft card or  flag burning back then. Kids who were 13 or 14 simply did not display such anti social behavior during that era..but Mike did.

He also could sing many very obscene verses of Barnacle Bill, The Sailor, which I had only heard previously  in a Popeye cartoon. Sheepishly, I must admit that I can still remember some of them. They were incredibly funny at the time.

You might be asking, how, if he was a bully I was terrified of, would I find myself to be in his presence to see him burn his report card and display his obscene vocal skills ? I think it's akin to putting your hand in a fire...you want to see how close you can get, without being burned. It was also the fact that his behaviors were so contrary to mine, that one could not help oneself to watch in a vicarious way. 
But, I digress. So how did Mike bully me? Well. it was pretty straightforward bullying 101. I'd be riding my bike down his street which I had to, as it was on the way to my grammar school, where I'd hang out occasionally. Of course, I rode my bike as fast as I could, on the opposite side of the street where he lived, praying that Mike was not hanging out on his porch stoop, where unfortunately, he did a lot of the time. His friends that were with him on the stoop were of similar disreputable character.  Mike had the instincts of a cheetah on an open plain in Africa, and I of course, was the gazelle.
He would run across the street, stop you on your bike, and then threaten to bust up your face and/or your bike, in no particular order. I  must emphasize that I did nothing to provoke him, other than have the audacity to ride my bike down his street, or worse yet, walk down his street.

Usually, he would take out whatever anger he had on your bike, throwing it down, riding it with threats that you would never see it again, etc. I can't recall him ever striking me, but just the thought that he might, was sufficient enough for it to be a horrific experience. It was usually over in a few minutes, although it felt like hours. And then, he would let you go, after he had satisfied whatever twisted needs that had led him to act the way he did.
I was one of his victims on many occasions, but never really told anyone about it, other than my friends, who if they were with me, would get the same treatment. My parents would have shrugged it off, telling me to avoid him and the street he lived on. I didn't even consider telling school authorities or the police, as it seemed petty to do so. Forget knocking on his door by the way as well, to tell his parents, who I had seen only occasional glimpses of.  They did not appear to have a sympathetic nature.. No ,being bullied my Mike was just part of the the neighborhood experience, no different than the other pleasant parts of my childhood.
In a short few years, I was in high school, and never saw Mike again.  I can't help but wonder how he ended up.