WHAT IS A TRADITIONAL WEDDING?

Somewhere, in a lighted, heated, tent, my “baby” brother, Clark,  got married to Theresa Gillick, a second marriage for them.

Theresa wore a lovely wedding dress and the best man, my nephew Tom, wore a traditional suit. For Tom, a suit is a mile marker. I joshed that I had to attend this wedding just to see Tom in a suit. He told me he wore a suit to Clark’s first wedding as best man, and that it might be the last time he wore a suit. Uncle Clark is younger than his nephew Tom.

Tom’s wife, Maryanna, claimed he didn’t wear a suit when they married. “I like it she said. I hope I can get him to wear it again.” (At his funeral he claims.)

My son, Ken became licensed to marry them. A first for him.  By their own vows they pledged their fealty and wed. Writing your own vows has become traditional.

Theresa has the cutest little grandchildren. This little angel spread flower petals for them to tred upon. Later, she gathered them up, from her own sense of right, and put them back in the bag.

Having children in a wedding is always a joy as we look upon tears, smiles and questioning faces. Lucky Clark inherits a beautiful set of grandchildren as well. One of the good things about second marriages.

This little grandson I believe was the ring bearer. He was only interested in his toy unless someone convinced him to look up for that crucial moment. Got it!!

I like to tease Clark about being my baby brother but when he reminded me he was 60, I decided maybe I better knock it off. I doted on him when he was a kid and liked to play mother to him and my brother Mark, 13 months older. Of my five brothers, two are deceased.

I watched fascinated when the photographer  stopped to arrange Theresa’s flowing veil and actually tied it up so she could walk properly. Gown’s can be shortened on the spot without a needle or thread. Traditional?

My daughter Virginia mentioned how easy it is for kids to get acquainted. Abbie, on the right, stepped out on the dance floor and made instant friends with the grandchildren she’d just met.  Life is simple if you’re a kid.

My oldest brother, Bill, parodied some movie character:  “Bring on the grub.” Soon enough, we were eating prime rib, chicken in a rich sauce, vegetables and a tossed green salad.

A non-traditional chocolate cheesecake.

The adults hit the dance floor after dinner and a few drinks.

You go girl! Everyone danced with everyone. It mattered not if women danced with women, or children or dads and brothers. My Uncle Veron and Uncle Norman taught me how to dance for my Uncle Roger’s wedding.

Some years back it was tradition to put cameras on the tables and guests took pictures of each other. Clark and Theresa engaged the services of a photo booth.  Zany pictures, fun pictures or prim pictures, mixing people who didn’t know each other; instant results. Clark and Theresa and  guests get a copy. Clark also hired a limousine service that drives anyone home, and a second driver follows with your personal car.  Safety for anyone who may have had a drink too many. It was really fun. To see the rest of the pictures, click the link below:

 

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A SUNI-YI VILLAGE AND CEMETERY

When I’m home, I always have projects to do that take gobs of time. Or, I’m having gobs of fun. The next three weeks,  I’ll be having therapy for my hip three mornings a week plus other doctor’s appointments, and my blog may be quite sporadic. I wonder at times like this how our travel companions who were severely injured in the May 27th accident are faring? I’m back revisiting my 2006 trip to China, and, suffering embarrassment as I was reminded that I had blogged my China trip last year. I totally forgot. Maybe it was the bap in the head during the accident that made me forget.  In any case, UNESCO made this cemetery a place of interest because China has not allowed burials for over 200 years. All bodies by law must be cremated. This rare cemetery belongs to the minority Yi people, and we visit their nearby village.

The minority Yi living here are poor. The place is littered with garbage.

Raw sewage runs through the  town in these runnels. They have electricity now, fairly new for them.

The streets are narrow; the buildings show their layers of history from old to ancient.

The major crop for them is corn. They raise pigs and we see dogs and wonder if they are raised for meat rather than pets.

The people mostly ignore us or hide their curiosity.  Like most minority villages, they work together and share the work and the harvest.

And, like old China, women go to work in the fields with their babies on their backs.

We saw women and children and our group engaged them. The child with the mother in the blue sweater was scared of we big noses and ran away from us.

She managed to bring him close to us. Vicki told us, do not give these people money and turn them into beggars. But, here we see that a member of our group did it anyway, and the little boy in red has his hand outstretched for more. The Cemetery is a new UNESCO site and soon, these people will have a steady parade of tourists with money in hand. Handouts warp their way of life,  rather than enhance it.

The children seem quite happy and well fed.

Who are we to decide their lifestyle needs improving?  The minority people are allowed two babies per family.  The government handed out condoms and demonstrated them by slipping them on their fingers. On the next visit, they found condoms on fence posts, hanging in the windows and on bushes. The people thought they were magically going to work by having them around.

Superstition is handed down from generation to generation.  Some of the practices of the minority people in the region are pretty strange.  These Suni-Yi believe spider webs are good luck and will not break up a web. The Wah minority favor rat meat. In older times they lent their wives to friends, or two sisters were allowed to share one husband. Some Wah are still nomadic. Girls live in white tents. Any man can fornicate with her because she has to have a baby to prove that she is fertile before she can marry.  But, the tent is guarded by a dog and the man must fight off the dog with stones and fists. The government discourages these old rituals and practices with some success.

We leave the area thinking of the vast differences in culture there is in the same country without the influence of immigration as in our own melting pot of diverse cultures. We are truly stepping back in time, here.

AN UNPLEASANT WRINKLE

As usual, up before the sun. From the casino parking lot, we catch the gold. A day well planned we head for Algodones, Mexico to finish my dental work. Denny Salinas has a new office from our previous visit for major work, in December/Jan. 2008/09.

Dentists here (not all)   have shabby offices, as I understand it. And as many have studied and gotten their credentials in the U.S.  Salinas guarantees his work, and did just that. An hour and one half the first visit, 3 ex-rays, a diagnosis and solution- no charge. Then over two hours today, and I was on my way with a cost of 200 dollars for two special made mouth guards, some cosmetic work and a prescription. RVers we have talked to claim the dentists here are very honest and Jim and I found that to be true.

We stopped for lunch at Birrieria, basically the same menu as a couple days ago, in a different place.  Live musicians wander in with their tip cups,  the kitchen out front. Same economical price as well.

You see everything being made in front of the shop. Notice the ceiling to floor string of garlic on the right.

This bashful lady kind of ducked when I took the picture. But, she made flour tortillas so fast it made my head swim.  I saw her forming  perfect size dough balls by hand and  using a press to flatten them.  The end product counts. Ah,  fresh and delicious.

On the way home, the march of the insects appeared on the sidewalk, made of wrought iron and stones.

Clever  soldier ants with a couple of “dead soldiers”, an American euphemism for an empty drink bottle or can.

Attractive chickens…

…and all the desert creatures like scorpions, turtles, lizards, snakes and road runners. It’s a pleasure to check out the street wares even though we have no room in the motor home to bring stuff home.

Back in Yuma, on the way to get the vehicles washed and waxed, I got a ticket for running a stop sign. It isn’t in my nature to plow through a stop sign in mid-day in full view of a policewoman. I’ve had four tickets in my life and I know it sounds ingenuous to blame my mishap on the intersection. The intersection was also an approach to a bridge and had two sets of double stop lines. It confused me. I started to stop, perceived the double lines an extra ten feet in front of me as the proper stop, and pulled forward. Realized my mistake instantly and stepped on the brakes-too late.  Oh, well. Payback for those U turns I made when I shouldn’t have. I’m asking for a trial in absentia. I’ll keep you posted.