Heart Attack Wedding 2/1/05

For pictures, go to http://flickr.com/photos/jfinger23

Heading into January, the list of things to do was long but simple. Finish up and execute plans for the American wedding ceremony of Michiyo and I, see that her parents, sister, and cousins would have a memorable week in St. Louis, get them shipped home safely to Japan, then prepare for two memorable months getting from Brazil to Peru with my new wife starting with a plane flight from St. Louis on January 26. Simple plans, but one thing none of my family left out was one urgent emergency.

The first half of the itinerary went superbly and smoothly. The details for the wedding tied together like bows on Christmas presents. Michiyo and I agreed months ago that she would take care of every detail of our Japanese wedding in Kumamoto back in November, and I would likewise handle every aspect of our American wedding ceremony in January. Michiyo delivered a flawless day of bliss the first time around, so I had to step up my game and return the favor on American soil. From December to January, the various tasks were set up and knocked down like a shooting gallery at an amusement park. The facility, the officiant, the ceremony and vows, organist, reception hall, food, cake, DJ, rehearsal dinner, programs, invitations, flowers, shower, thank you notes, gifts, rings, clothes, decorations, accommodation, and most importantly, karaoke the night before the wedding, were all locked and loaded by the time everyone stood up for the procession. I would love to tell you I did every single thing myself, but countless people served vital roles in assisting me, from the vendors providing the services, to my parents, sisters, cousin, and of course, my lovely, smart, and beautiful wife, Michiyo.

The kicker to this crazy period of multi-tasking arrived with the first snow of 2005 in St. Louis. On a Thursday morning, Michiyo, my Dad, and I drove through falling flakes to get to the airport, where my brother Mark had successfully accompanied our new in-laws from Japan to the doorstep of the Midwest. Here was the lineup, get out your scorecards:
Minoru, Michiyo’s Dad
Chieko, her Mom
Masae, older sister
Tomoko, cousin
Taiji, cousin’s husband
Shiki, nine year old son of cousin
Hana, seven year old daughter of cousin who turned eight on January 20.

My Dad, upon realizing that he and my Mom would be facing four kids and one new daughter-in-law, plus seven Japanese visitors, made things easier on everybody by renting a fifteen passenger van for the week. This Japanese Mobile worked out better than a stretch limo would have, and provided many hilarious moments for the English speakers, the Japanese speakers, and those of us who were often confused beyond comprehension.

The week turned into a newlywed reality show that would make a TV producer drool, and I would bet that Michiyo is a lot more fun than Jessica Simpson. My family was hosting foreigners for the first time ever, and with the exception of Michiyo’s Dad, who had not been to St. Louis before, everyone was seeing America for the first time. I would love to say that the kids were the most interesting to observe, but in fact the adults were just as amusing. We stopped to fill the big van with gas, and Michiyo’s sister excitedly hopped out and volunteered to pump. Everyone took pictures, before choppy conversation revealed to both parties that Japan’s gas stations rarely offer self service, so this Shell station essentially equaled a tourist attraction.

My Mom’s sister lives on a dairy farm in Illinois, so this stop on our tour was designed to show our guests how my aunt and uncle live, raising big cows and growing corn, not to mention raising five kids (and now grandchildren) at the same time. We were given a tour of the farm by my Uncle Kenny, complete with feeding milk to newborn calves, climbing on endless bales of hay piled high in the shed, posing for pictures with black and white Holsteins (milk-bearing cows with big, um, ears), and signing our names to the farm guestbook, which included other Japanese guests from years past who came to buy cows. However, given all of these interesting farm features, what were the two highlights? Frozen puddles and huge tires. Yes, you read right. In the side yard, a shallow ditch with ankle-deep water had frozen through, and you would have thought ice was being discovered for the first time. Shiki and Hana, the two grade schoolers, could not get enough of slipping, sliding, and scampering away when the surface cracked a little. Once Michiyo’s Mom Chieko had me escort her on a slow scoot across the ice, my Dad politely kept the tour moving. Water just does not freeze like that in southern Japan. The next stop, a cavernous garage which sheltered the gigantic tractors of the farm, produced a memorable reaction. Diminutive and adorable Chieko, who embodies every aspect of the phrase, “little Japanese lady,” could not believe the size of the tires on one particular tractor. When I saw her jump in exclamation and beam a bright smile for fifteen minutes, I wondered why she did not give that response when I asked her for the hand of her daughter in marriage. Among other places, we also took a tour of the St. Louis Arch, looking down on St. Louis from 192 meters, or 600 feet in the air, and several marathon shopping trips. Those details may be shared in a book or movie someday. . .

At long last, the wedding! The first American style wedding for our guests, and the first child married off for my parents. Besides a visiting group of in-laws on a whirlwind tour, I gamely pushed through a raucous bachelor-party night on Thursday followed by a 3 a.m. karaoke extravaganza on Friday after the rehearsal dinner. On Saturday, fatigue, joy, relief, and excitement, produced a feeling of dreamy reality, and I do not mean to say that everything was cheesy and perfect, although things did turn out well. I just felt like I was sleeping, and did not know if everything was really happening. Lots of partying, little sleeping, and the constant rush of tour-guiding and internationalization left adrenaline as the main fuel of the weekend, and I loved every second of it. Friends and family from San Francisco to Montana and Memphis to Chicago convened in St. Louis to see the flag of Japan and America on the wall of the St. Louis Ethical Society, a wood-paneled, chapel-like auditorium in west St. Louis with a powerful pipe organ.

I appeared with Reverend Robert J. Barker (yes, we were married by Bob Barker) at the front of the room, and my parents entered together, with my Mom lighting the unity candle. My tall friend Dave Marlo then walked down the aisle escorting Chieko, Michiyo’s tiny mother, who compared the pair to a monkey climbing a tree. Next, my sisters Katie and Lynn, wearing matching black dresses and carrying white roses, entered with my cousin David and my friend John, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, before my brother Mark came in with Michiyo’s sister Masae, the best man and maid of honor. Finally, the bride in her gorgeous western-style, white wedding dress, Michiyo, was led down the aisle by her father Minoru, dressed in a black suit, white shirt and white tie, in keeping with Japanese custom and matching the other groomsmen and my Dad in wedding day attire. I met Michiyo and Minoru about halfway, wearing my black suit hand-tailored in Vietnam by Mr. Ngoc Hung, and a black-and-white tie given to me by Minoru. We ascended several steps to join the wedding party and Bob. After an introduction, my friend Katie read some words from Scripture, then Michiyo and I exchanged vows in English and Japanese. We had written out the vows before hand, and Bob asked us the question in English. We gave complete answers in Japanese, then said in English the magic words, “I do.” We then lit a unity candle, and had a surprise exchange of roses with our mothers, put our rings on each other, and our lips met after Bob said, “You may kiss your bride.” The organ music blasted, and we floated out to the foyer for a lively receiving line, followed by a bunch of photos, then back to home and headquarters for recharging before the reception.

Guests arrived at Andre’s Banquet Facility in South St. Louis County to find their names written in English and Japanese on origami cranes crafted by Michiyo. The wedding party entered and was introduced as the DJ played the theme song for the Chicago Bulls introductions. Michiyo and Masae dazzled the crowd with their spectacular Japanese kimonos, Michiyo in pink, and Masae in blue. Masae spoke a few words, and Mark started things off with a toast that combined remembering relatives that had passed, introducing a few Japanese words like Kuchi (it means mouth in English), and wishing luck to Michiyo and me. Everyone stuffed their kuchies, the wedding party began the dancing after cutting the cake, and Michiyo changed back into her wedding dress for the garter and bouquet toss. We mixed in a 100-yen dance (American equivalent of the dollar dance) with the electric slide, and after YMCA came on, the younger crowd took over. The DJ played some favorites, then spun the requisite Humpty Dance, attacked dually with skill and grace by myself and the legendary David Fisher, and later provided some Nelly, to which my brother and I jumped on, with a little Katie and Lynn Fingerhut mixed in. One of the highlights of the evening occurred during “Pour Some Sugar On Me.” As Def Leppard roared, the DJ strategically threw out an inflated guitar. This prop was met with glee, and we were able to get the entire Japanese contingent not only on the dance floor, but jamming to the top song of 1989 with a blue, air-filled guitar. My knees could not take this thrill, as I was laughing uncontrollably, and remarked to several people that seeing my Japanese family jump around with this guitar was like the Berlin wall falling. On the way home, my Dad asked Michiyo how often they get down like that, and she said she did not think they had ever done that before. The reception concluded with a unique group hug orchestrated by our DJ, and then Mark and I closed things out with a Japanese Banzai. Our guests went their separate ways, and Papa Joe drove us to the hotel in the big van that stood in for a magic carpet.
What a week. Michiyo and I tapered off the tour by dropping her family off at O’Hare Airport in Chicago for the flight home a few days later. I would love to report that we stayed on cloud nine for several weeks or months after the perfect wedding weekend. I would love to write that I am sending this long story from a café in Rio, Brazil, in the heart of the biggest Mardi Gras party ever seen, with two months of surprise adventure through Argentina, Chile, and Peru ahead of us. Instead, I love to report that my family is healthy and everyone is fine. As we were preparing to take Michiyo’s family to Chicago, my sister called and told me that Dad was in the hospital with chest pains that turned into a heart attack. While the relatives flew to the Far East, Katie flew back to Connecticut, and Mark moved on to Colorado before returning to Kumamoto, Dad moved from Intensive Care to a regular hospital room to our house in Fenton. No surgery, no chest-cutting, just a little artery blockage that a few weeks of relaxing and rehabbing will fix. Michiyo and I get to relax as well, deciding not what train to catch, beach to explore, or mountain to climb, but what is the activity of the day with Dad, and what the next step is for all three of us. South America will be there for a long time, and thankfully, so will Dad.

Thank you everyone for the well-wishes, cards, and emails recently. As always, I appreciate all of you in my life, and I appreciate being able to share with you. Thanks for reading, thanks for writing, and thanks for sharing everything alongside me. Take care in your corner of the world,

Joe