My friend John is a musician who has had some fame and fortune in his life and lost it. Now he plays the clubs and casinos and half heartedly works in a local music store to help support his daughter who lives with her mother. His little girl is the light of his life, a beautiful child who worships him. He is much loved in this small community - he has a warmth and generosity of spirit, a colorful and slightly offbeat sense of humor, a sense of having found contentment in the music. News that he was to be married rocked us all - it seemed that he was giving up his road dreams once and for all and was going to settle down and live a routine, working musician's life.
The ceremony was held on the stage of the Municipal Auditorium, once home to the Louisiana Hayride, Elvis, Hank, and other larger than life country music stars. The minister - a local musician himself - wore bluejeans and the only guests were family. Though there was no live music, there were echoes. The stage was littered with equipment for the evening's performance - two saxaphones and a keyboard, a guitar on a stand, speakers and electrical equipment and miles of cords and wiring. Afternoon light mixed with stage lighting and spot lights and now and then a ray of sun flashed on the purple, green and gold decorations. In the balconies a worker or two paused to watch the ceremony. John stood with one arm around his daughter and one around his bride and in a matter of minutes it was all said and done. The empty old building had worked it's magic again and it felt so right. We walked out, past signed pictures of Patsy Kline, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, and dozens more to the bright afternoon sunshine of a beautiful summer day. There was much hugging and kissing and handshaking as befits a wedding. It was a new day for all and there will be new music to be played and new songs to be written.
The ceremony was held on the stage of the Municipal Auditorium, once home to the Louisiana Hayride, Elvis, Hank, and other larger than life country music stars. The minister - a local musician himself - wore bluejeans and the only guests were family. Though there was no live music, there were echoes. The stage was littered with equipment for the evening's performance - two saxaphones and a keyboard, a guitar on a stand, speakers and electrical equipment and miles of cords and wiring. Afternoon light mixed with stage lighting and spot lights and now and then a ray of sun flashed on the purple, green and gold decorations. In the balconies a worker or two paused to watch the ceremony. John stood with one arm around his daughter and one around his bride and in a matter of minutes it was all said and done. The empty old building had worked it's magic again and it felt so right. We walked out, past signed pictures of Patsy Kline, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, and dozens more to the bright afternoon sunshine of a beautiful summer day. There was much hugging and kissing and handshaking as befits a wedding. It was a new day for all and there will be new music to be played and new songs to be written.
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