Ave! And Stuff!

In this holiday Christmas season, consisting of Advent and the Twelve Days of, we focus so much on Christ and the wonderful and not so wonderful events that led up to His birth and the days after. But we would be nowhere without his mother, Mary. The Blessed Virgin herself.

And one of the most beautiful pieces of music ever, written by Franz Schubert, is about her.

AVE MARIA

Ave Maria, Gratia plena
Maria, Gratia plena
Maria, Gratia plena
Ave, Ave Dominus
Dominus tecum
Benedicta tu in mulieribus
Et benedictu
Et benedictus frutcus ventris, ventris tu Jesus

Ave Maria

Ave Maria, mater Dei
Ora pro nobis peccatoribus
Ora, ora pro nobis
Ora, ora pro nobis peccatoribus
Nunc, et in hora mortis
In hora mortis nostrae
In hora mortis, mortis nostrae
In hora mortis nostrae
Ave Maria
Amen

(translation)(which is just a jazzed up version of the prayer, ‘Hail Mary’)

Hail Mary, Full of Grace
Mary, Full of Grace
Mary, Full of Grace
Hail, Hail to the Lord
The Lord is with you
Blessed art thou among women
And blessed fruit of the womb, the womb of Jesus
Hail Mary
Hail Mary, Mother of God
Pray for us sinners
Pray, pray for us
Pray, pray for us sinners
Now, and in the hour of death
In the hour of our death
In the hour of death, our death
In the hour of our death
Hail Mary
Amen

(thanks to translate.yandex.com for the very quick and intuitive translation program for Latin to English. I tried to find a good translation and was out of luck, then tried lots of translators and only Yandex gave me good results.)

One of my favorite audio versions is sung by Karen Carpenter, but just about any more-than-competent singer, following the lyrics and melody written by Franz et al, will bring me to tears and have me running to go hug Mrs. Andrew and clamp onto her like a limpet on his favorite rock at low tide.

Karen Carpenter singing 'Ave Maria'
Such a beautiful voice, such a tragic loss
Those who pestered her have much to answer for

Why get so all schmaltzy over a beautiful song?

Well, back in 1984 there was this girl I knew, we met in college, who saved me from a really bad relationship (really bad, Lifetime Movie of the Week bad, trust me, BAD) and she did it because she liked me (and I later found out was in love with me) and, well, I fell in love with her without knowing she was in love with me and, aw, Beans, you went all Hallmark movie on us...

So, in 1985, she moved to Gainesville, FL and got a house, and I went with her to rent a room and try to go to UF and get a degree and, well… I never moved into the room I was going to rent. Oops. Living in sin I was, but only because I knew I would marry her someday. The impediment? Her. She was ‘all girlfriend but nothing further’ and I accepted, because that was the only way I could be around her. Sigh…

Somewhere in the summer of 1985 I asked her to marry me. She turned me down, nicely, sweetly, but Hard. So I asked her again, and got shot down again. And again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again… Finally, like water against rock, I wore her down. And she opened up and She didn’t think she was good enough for me. Me? Mr. All Flaws and Sharp Edges, and she didn’t think she was good enough for me? Here I am, thinking I am, no, KNOWING I am loving someone way above me, way smarter and better and more human and sweeter and nicer and and and and, and it turns out she doesn’t think she’s the worthy one?

OH. NO. SHE. DIDN’T. Nice try, lady. I was (and am still) not worthy to be with you, so get over yourself. So, well, eventually she wore completely down and finally said “Yes” around November of 1985 and we talked about getting married in the spring of 1987. My parents were like, “Oh, what took you so long” when I finally told them (I had been nervous puking for a few days before, a wonderful affliction I inherited from my father, who managed to puke on my mother’s hand, himself, the restaurant, and from what he said, about half the county when he proposed to my mother.)

Her parents? They thought she could do much better than me. Like stay at home and take care of them was their plan. Have I ever told you that I hate my in-laws? Oh, the hatred of Belgians living on the German border in 1944 (obligatory Battle of the Bulge reference) is maybe 1/100th the hatred of what I felt and still feel for her side of the family. Still dream of digging up her father and chopping his head off just to make sure… (I was bitterly disappointed with the Catholic Church at large when my FIL did not catch fire when he stepped into the church on our wedding day. Yes, Crisis of Faith, man, Crisis of Faith.)

Then my mother derailed us. We would have to pay to ship Grandmother Cone from California for the wedding. We were paying for everything out of our own pocket, so air-freighting GC would have broken us. Instead, since she paid her own way to Florida for the Christmas season, which for her started the week before the Army-Navy Game (Go Navy! Lt. Gordon Cone, Annapolis class of ’29) and ending after Epiphany, that set the window of opportunity. The business I was working at shut down Dec 24 and opened up Jan 2, so that narrowed it even more. And we wanted to get married down at Holy Name of Jesus Catholic Church in Indialantic, FL, and they only had one open day in December, so… The day was set.

All the hoops were in place.  Time to start jumping through them.

First, get the local priest to smear holy oil on the Jewish girl and proclaim her Catholic, which entailed a whole conversion process which was very simple and tedious, in comparison to the whole conversion process she went through to become Jewish in the first place. I still have fond memories of the priest who was running her to-Catholic conversion backing into the corner as she kept asking hard questions about Catholicism and the Conversion Process until he finally broke and got the monsignor involved and He said, after being questioned as to why once she accepted the Word of God and Jesus as her Lord and Savior why she had to wait until Easter to be confirmed because according to the Scriptures and Church Teachings, once you accepted TWOG and JAYLAS then if you die before being officially confirmed you will exist in a state of Limbo rather than Grace and He (the monsignor) said, “How about Sunday?” and she got smeared and ‘Poof,’ she was a Catholic…

Then there was the interview by our local parish priest as to the validity of our wish to be married. Then the interview by the parish priest and a senior nun down at Holy Name of Jesus (totally different dioceses from our local parish/dioceses)(parish being the individual church run by a priest or monsignor, dioceses being an administrative area composed of many parishes and overall run by a bishop.)(stop here if you’re Anglican or Episcopal, continue on with cardinals and the Pope if you’re Roman Catholic.)

Then we had to attend a Pre Cana class, which is a Catholic course for those preparing to be married in the Catholic Church, where we learned fascinating things like how to tell if Myrtle is Fertile by the elasticity of some mucus from somewhere (no, really) and this was taught by some lady with 12 children, so, well, I guess it worked for her. And other fascinating and completely thought provoking and world changing things that were so special I can’t remember any of them. Except for that whole mucus-rubber band thingy. Stuck like glue in our minds it did, and we still talk about it once in a while.  A mere stretching of two fingers can cause chortling at the most inappropriate times.

And… well, have I told you how much I hate my in-laws? That whole bride’s family supports the bride thingy? Well, the jerks really wanted Mrs. Andrew stay at home and take care of them. Really. Juvat, have I told you how much I respect you for doing right by your daughter for her wedding? You and your wife are what parents should be. Her parents? Not so much. No help at all.

So my mother stepped in. Mom Andrew finally got to do the whole ‘mother-daughter’ thing and got so totally involved that we had to sit her down and reel her back and reset all of the arrangements she made because we already made them so Mom Andrew made The Dress and…

We really lucked out. Really. Mom’s church group did the cooking for the reception at my parent’s house (not a formal dine-in, more an informal party. We cleaned the house and one of Mrs. Andrew’s friends did the cake and the church group cooked the food (one of the food choices, cocktail sausages heated in apple butter is still one of our favorites) and my Dad provided a bar for the drinkers, and we made plans to honeymoon ‘away’ from the wedding night to Christmas Eve.

The actual church was an easy thing. Already decorated for the season, the whole back wall of the church was lined with trees with white lights so no need for us to do anything.

Our wedding ‘song’ was/is Franz Shubert’s “Ave Maria” which the music director didn’t approve of but he got over it.  Why would a beautiful, Christian piece of music be a problem in a church?  Dunno, but as I said, he got over it.  Mrs. Andrew can be quite persuasive when she wants to be.

Well, long story short, comes December 20th, 1986, I married my best friend and someone who still is far better than me. And through sickness and health, richer, poorer, good times and bad, we are still giddily in love with each other and laugh and cry and fight and talk and we’re together still, till way after death do us part.

Maybe She was looking over us and helping. I always thought and think so.

So, thank you, Holy Mother, for everything you’ve done.

Ave! And Amen!

For Scott the Badger, because he has me listening to Celtic Women again

Ah, darned, I'm crying again.

And that blonde reminds me of Mrs. Andrew when we met, except more Karen Carpenter's face and voice.