Singing in the Shower

The Bridal Shower, according to sources, is part of a tradition of helping the bride make up her own dowery with gifts from among friends. Without it, a woman was obliged to marry the man that would have her. With it, she could marry a man of her choice. Friends made up for her poverty in the name of love and sisterhood. It's a good story.

I'm inclined to believe the version of its origin that upper class Americans started the tradition in the age of robber barons. All America wanted what they wanted and the tradition spread unchecked in the last century, the way some girls will choose Paris Hilton's brand of jailhouse pumps. Regardless, it's here and the families have descended on Somerville like axis powers at Versailles.

Near-crisis one. A Certain Parent was delayed by the airline. The devil you say? Impossible! So Frank's Steak House got the first call of the evening from TWIL, "...Could we push that reservation back a bit? Oh, thanks and what's your name....?" In time, the plane landed.

Cellphones vibrated to a white hot heat. The rental car of a Certain Parent had been given away by Avis. Near crisis two. Not just any car. A car that would allow the favorite step dad to pack a wheelchair in the trunk and still swing into his seat. Amazing guy. No, the Ford Focus will not work as a substitute. "Hello, I'm sorry, what's your name again....? We'd like to push that reservation back a bit. Yes." And TWIL and I are thinking, this is good, as long as the ad hoc cocktail hour doesn't go on too long. Rochester and his wife are arriving; they can join us.

Near-crisis three. At the AmeriSuites in Medford, the hotel staff had given away a Certain Parent's room. Now, if you're me, and a so-called customer Service Person is politely telling you that the thing you paid for and reserved weeks ahead is gone and that they want to help you but, they're sorry, there are limited options, you're beginning to bemoan the scarcity of block ice as cooling method, because not that long ago, ice picks were a common commodity in any hotel and restaurant. And I've imagined many times how neatly a little justice might be served up with three or four perforations of the thorax of a smiling, powerless Service Person. But it was not me, gods be praised. Rooms were found, composure was regained, peace flowed like a river, and Frank's did not see a Certain Parent and Favorite Stepdad because they had too much sense to go out again looking for calamity to strike. In fairness to the hotel, whatever they did wrong, they more than made up for, by all accounts.

In the meantime, Ellen and Mike (my sister and brother in law, or BIL) landed in time to join us for the second half of the meal. That is, the part that is commonly known as eating. Joan, our waitress, was unfailingly great to us.

Go to Frank's. If not for the food, which was good, then to wait while crises pass over.