The backup wedding dress and dusty high school nostalgia

So a friend of mine is moving to Ireland. In his plans for the big overseas move, many buried memorabilia are sifting to the surface of a fairly tidy attic, and some of these collections are mine. This evening, over takeout pizza, I enjoyed finding these objects and the anecdotes that accompanied them.

1) The backup wedding dress. My actual wedding dress - many, many dollars more expensive than hospital bills I now chip away at - was weeks late in arriving to Chicago in time for last-minute alterations in pre-wedding days. Afraid it might not arrive at all, I neurotically tried on an off-the-rack dress at Jessica McClintock in the Michigan Avenue mall where I'd later work as a salesgirl of Williams-Sonoma shame. The back-up wedding dress was this simple strapless, A-line number. Only $180 dollars and no cost for alterations. I remember trying it on in our apartment (his) then and thinking as I spun in front of the mirror doing that 'I look good' looking over the shoulder thing, "I should have waited for this dress." In the end, the department store dress arrived, and the 'back-up dress' was worn to the airport.

2)Concert tickets - Though I'm not too impressed with the diversity or non-mainstreamed-ness of my concert-going choices, I am convinced that a) I was adorable when I went to see all of these bands, and b) my memories are fuzzy, poignant, and tinged with some kind of bittersweet teenage hormonal hangover:

a) Buddy Guy. Thursday, 9:00 p.m., Meehan Auditorium, Brown University April 21, 1994. I spent the entire concert milling in the first or second row, grinning up at Buddy Guy, enjoying his radiating bluesy charm and loving-life vibe. Towards the end, as he distributed guitar picks to audience members, he reached for my hand and firmly pressed the guitar pick in my hand with a big, shiny grin back.

b) Samstag, 12. Juni 1993, Cologne, Muengersdorfer Stadion. U2's ZOOropa tour. I don't remember much beyond Bono being all in black with those "The Fly" sunglasses and there was a landing strip stage piece that he postured on. I think that I thought he was a little arrogant back then. And I'm pretty sure that I took a horrifically expensive taxi home from where the train wouldn't go beyond to get me back to Korschenbroich.

c) Jethro Tull & Procol Harum, Donnerstag, 10. Juni 1993, Westfalenpark. So this was an outdoors concert. I remember being fairly inebriated during the daytime and all glowy-teenagery but no boys around to appreciate it. And I remember observing to myself how geezer-y those two bands' members seemed (the people - I never saw their members,) though one of them had a keyboardist I probably thought to myself at the time was do-able, not knowing, at the time, of course, at all what the doing of do-able was like. Oddly, my first thought upon finding this ticket and another U2 one was..."I've been in Dortmund?"

d) Van Morrison, Freitag, 2. Oktober 1992. This was a unique experience. None of my acquaintances could go with me, and I had somehow finnagled permission to go to Cologne. I am almost certain that I lied to my parents and said that I was going with friends. What ultimately happened was this: I took the train to Cologne, took a taxi to a warehouse in what seemed to seventeen-year-old me like the middle of nowhere, and the warehouse was filled with grown-ups, swaying or standing still. And Van Morrison's voice was vibrant and thick like syrup and I stood there like a kid who wakes during a party its parents are having. He played "Moondance" and I was giddy with that unschooled "I know that one" feeling. It was this little adventure.

e) U2 Zoo TV Tour Donnerstag, 4. Juni 1992. Westfalenhallen, Dortmund. Again: "I've been to Dortmund?" I remember this concert in that I saw almost none of it. I spent the whole concert kissing my then-boyfriend. Some random guy (Jon something-or-other) scribbled a note in my yearbook about that concert that read something like: "Incidentally, did either of you see that concert, or was it entirely peripheral?" Yeah, it was peripheral.

f) Santana, Freitag, 24. April 1992. Oh, what a beautiful, beautiful concert. Nothing but trite descriptions spring to mind. (As if the rest of this has been so, what - original, Amanda?)

g) Jethro Tull, Montag 21 Okt. 91. Grugahalle, Essen ("I've been to Essen?") My first non-alcoholic high. For some reason all I remember is "Thick as a Brick," sitting in riser-bleacher-type seats and thinking that the audience below ebbed in waves. In my mind, the concert is quiet and calm.

I'd been to several concerts before and many dozens after, but those tickets were together in a little stack with my Brown ID (I look like Wednesday Addams in that picture) and my Lufthansa miles card and thumbing through them made me just think..."Awww...high school me."

Two Moons in Winter

This morning upon awakening I peeked through my curtains and observed what seemed to be two moons, setting just above the building across the street from my bedroom. One shone brightly, more intensely than usual, I thought, like its wattage had been raised. That moon, the real one, had a huge splotch that looked like a bull arching its back in a leap. The fainter one, I realized groggily, was the first moon's reflection in my window, hanging a hand span away from its original.

After realizing there weren't really two moons orbiting Earth, I thought - wouldn't that be something, to have two moons. Every evening, I imagined, we'd all look up and think, what are the moons like tonight? And one would be over here, and the other one would be over there, or obscured by a cloud, and someone might say, oh, I can only see one of our moons.

I've been hooked on these Crocodile Creek placemats and things at Whole Foods. I just love the bright colors and the little factoids in the borders. The other evening, while giving my son his bath above the kitchen sink, I was reminded by a placemat that Jupiter has over 60 moons. Which probably led to my muddled train of thought this morning. Maybe my brain thought that Earth, lonely with its sole pet satellite, grew another...



Amanda Welvers