"I Do" with Pineapple and BBQ

Today Abby and I saw our friend Stan Pasquale get married for the first time at age 56. He grew up in Hawaii and relocated to Texas years ago, working for a software company that was part of my beat on the HP Chronicle. That was back in the 1980s, so long ago that everybody was stunned that Stan would be tying the knot for the first time after all those years. The wedding date — April Fool's Day — just made it even more interesting.

Stan got married at White River Studios, the movie and entertainment facility our friends own out on the Blanco River. He and his bride Coreen stood in front of tiki torches with the sunset and the river behind them to exchange vows. Stan waited a long time for this — he's uncle to a young woman he helped raise for several teen-aged years, a woman at least in her 20s when she stood up to act as mistress of ceremonies at the reception. When he finally rose at the end of a string of speeches delivered from the long dais at the head of the room, Stan got misty-eyed with the happiness he pledged to his wife. She assured us all she "would take good care of Stan."

The lovely thing about weddings is that they can bring tears to all of our eyes. We get swept away by the memory of our own happy day, when love was full of the promise it will take years to realize.

The reception featured pineapple carried on the plane from the fields in Hawaii by Stan's family, as well as brisket cooked right at the Studios, a nine-hour labor of love. We drove into the same Hill Country we will be riding on Sunday. The studios rest at the bottom of a huge hill I managed to climb in 2003 on my first Hill Country Ride for AIDS. It's wildflower season in Texas, a bumper crop from what I spied alongside the roads on the way out. You never can tell when love will bloom here, either.