Sara and Baibhav had a fabulous wedding this weekend.  First, my toast to the couple, followed by a few of my amateurish photos.  Actually, we had two ceremonies,  the first after rehearsal dinner on Friday — a “mini” Hindu ritual.  Baibhav’s father, Govinda, spared us the several days it takes to perform the various traditions according to Hindu protocol, but we got a really good idea of how it unfolds.  Our close family friend, Rob Grabill, was the marriage official on Saturday, a day which was absolutely gorgeous.  I include a couple photos simply to show you how the campus looked for the occasion.  Perhaps I will include more pictures over the winter months in  my many Monday BluesBusters to follow.  The next one, by the way, will come next Monday, after Rob and Becky have their day, next Saturday, — Mr. Grabill once again doing the honors.

TO SARA & BAIBHAV

Sara:  Your mother’s time came at 11:00 PM on Friday, February 13.  “Would you like to wait one hour to have a Valentine baby?” offered the obstetrician.  “NO” said Alice tersely, forever sealing the fate of your birth on supposedly an unlucky day.

I was there, sweetie, and witnessed your arrival.  Now, I’ve seen enough football to recognize a fumbled snap when I see one – well, that doctor nearly dropped your slippery orb onto the floor. They washed you off, revealing drier skin than normal and we soon realized you were probably born a day late – Lincoln’s birthdate and mine too, February 12^th being your more timely opportunity.

Thus Sara, according to the laws of birth Karma, you, my beautiful daughter, manifest a combination of traits which are at once Romantic and Lincolnesque.  Indeed.  What a creature you are!

First, let the record show that you are an unabashed Romantic.  That near-miss of February 14 leaks through in countless ways.  Your love of husband and family have no limiting qualifications and need no documentation.  And, to observe you cuddling up to Kiki the rabbit or Naina the kitten bears witness to your marvelous human trait of empathy.  So important, honey.

I saw it coming when Maggie, your hamster, passed away.  Remember?  I placed the pet in a shoe box and made way towards the garbage bin only to be intercepted by an enraged child who redirected me to a pleasant spot beneath our stately Magnolia tree where a solemn burial ritual was consummated.  So wonderful.

Now, your history lesson:  Abraham Lincoln, for all his skills, knew his mind.  When General McClellan demurred in battle, Lincoln visited the commander in his camp, accused him of having the “slows,” and finally relieved McClellan of his duty.  Anyone here ever been guilty of moving not as fast as Sara would have you?  Or been lambasted by my impatient offspring for a momentary lapse?  Yeah, me too, many times.

But, they hailed Lincoln “Honest Abe,” and Sara – you are what one call straightforward, eh?  Folks always know where they stand with you and, please explain:  You are willing to grant them the tactical advantage of knowing ahead of time your expectations of what they should say or do next.  Seems they would be able to exploit!   But, they always end up eating out of your hand, no?  How is that so?

However, alas, Sara, you were born on neither the 14^th or the 12^th of February.  Lucky Baibhav, you have chosen the frank and candid, yet tender and affectionate child of Friday the 13^th.  Even luckier, however, are you Sara, who has found the one person on all of planet Earth whose values, personality and temperament are perfect complements to all the good you bring to the table.  The only thing I am told about Friday the 13^th is that it is unlucky to get married on that date.  Well, this is Saturday the 18^th!   Welcome to our family, Baibhav, an invitation extended to your loved ones – both those here in the room and those back home in Nepal, as well.

Remember, Baibhav, Sara’s adoring brothers used to refer to the spot next to her in the family car as “the torture seat.”  T’was brutal indeed, but something tells me the Sara of Friday the 13^th has morphed into a precious person, a character as strong as Lincoln and as loving as Saint Valentine. Oh, yeah, she has been unlucky, but only on airplanes, trains and buses.  Baibhav, you have a grand treasure.  Just continue to let her travel alone.

And, Sara, what an emerald you have uncovered.  Glad now, you went to Dickinson?  Good thing that school has that international outreach, eh?  Honest Abe?  No one has ever been more truthful than your Baibhav.  St. Valentine, the Romantic?  He’s got nothing on that tender Baibhav either.

Sara Therese Wipfler, my dear, you have struck a mighty and grand bargain with Baibhav Acharaya.  Here’s wishing the two of you a long and happy life together as ONE.