In the happy afterglow of our daughter’s wedding, my husband offered a description so sweet it took my breath away.
He said he’d hoped the polka band he’d hired for the occasion would create a field of dreams experience — that the polka lovers among our family and friends, who had passed on, would emerge from the soybean fields and dance.
As soon as he said it, I saw it. I just wish I hadn’t been too busy during the reception to notice in real time.
But I know they were there.
The Maroszek Brothers played their lively tunes and there, on the grass in front of them, danced Pap, my coal miner grandfather who loved a good polka.
And there, keeping an eye on him, stood the indomitable Baba, my Pennsylvania grandma.
Over there, in the corner, danced our friend Roy, who had heard all about Vince’s polka plans during the sheepshead games they played in the months before Roy passed away.
Grandma Mary Jane and Grandpa Vince emerged from the fields with panache, grinning and game for a party.
My dad came too but he didn’t dance. He just smiled and thanked every single guest for coming.
Music can lift the veil between this world and the next. Weddings can do that too.
So, when you combine the two, imagine the joyful scene.
I only have pictures of people from this world dancing the polka at Katherine and Ed’s wedding. But, if you look closely, you might see the others who emerged from the field to join us in a celebration of family, friendship and love.
