Ben and Kait's wedding. Lovely. Happy occasion. Streaks of sunlight. An outdoor fire on the deck. A million different stories in the room (or were many of them the same?) and scores of beautiful people. Sun-kissed bridesmaids from a tight-knit Virginia clan, younger blonde sisters of the pretty, gracious blonde bride, good-looking groomsmen, college friends of two generations (Ben's and Kait's, plus our friend Celia's, from Wesleyan in Connecticut). A dream NYC born-and-bred groom we watched grow from boy to man. Family who drove into Stuyvesant Town to read the Torah with Celia, her husband, Greg, Ben and her parents every Passover. Celia's grandmother's kiddush cup, the rabbi from New York City, a richly flowered chuppah symbolizing a new home for the bride and groom. The bride's godfather. Women my age, with daughters Figgy's age--every mother zipped into just the right dress, with a movie-star blowout, expensive but discreet jewelry. Handsome, fit, suntanned husbands on their arms. (Accessory note: Next wedding, I swear, I will have a pretty, organized purse, not one that is overstuffed and cannot close.)
It feels good to be just the two of us, Dan and I navigating the weekend (tho with many wedding guests, too). I would not have been able to leave comfortably without my sister staying back at home base in Montclair with Punchy. It's a freedom.
We visited the National Portrait Gallery today, got lost in that playground for about two hours. It was like following a candy trail, another and another goodie to make our eyes widen. Not just people, but also hibiscus blooms in Hawaii by Georgia O'Keefe (who was sent there by the Dole Pineapple Co. for an advertising campaign), a high Maine cliff over the sea by Winslow Homer, on and on and on. (I went to the Gallery with Kim, Nan and Liz, too--twice lucky.)
Among the Presidential Portraits, it was a treat to see Ike, George H.W. Bush, Abraham Lincoln, Jimmy Carter, Reagan, Teddy Roosevelt, Nixon (the last by Norman Rockwell, who made him look more likable). I loved the 1963 painting above of JFK by Elaine de Kooning from sittings in Palm Beach, Lilly Pulitzer country. Note the beautiful Lilly colors. So in other words, you came to the National Portrait Gallery and found Lilly Pulitzer, Dan said. Exactamundo.
John F. Kennedy / Elaine de Kooning / Oil on canvas, 1963 / National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution / © 1963 Elaine de Kooning Trust. The following copy from https://npg.si.edu/blog/elaine-de-koonings-jfk "When I first saw him, he was bigger than life. It wasn’t that he was really taller than the others. But he seemed to be in a different dimension. The eyes were a total surprise to me. I have never seen the color in photographs—the violet of grapes!" In the golden sunlight of Florida, Kennedy seemed to radiate warmth and color—and an energy that became a struggle for the artist: "All my sketches from life as he talked on the phone, jotted down notes, read papers, held conferences, had to be made very quickly, catching features and gestures, half for memory, even as I looked, because he never sat still. It was not so much that he seemed restless, rather, he sat like an athlete or college boy, constantly shifting in his chair. At first this impression of youthfulness was a hurdle, as was the fact that he never sat still."
President Obama.
Stardust ballroom portrait of me with our longtime friend Celia, the mother of the groom.
P.S. Celia and other Jewish friends, I hope I got the Jewish traditions right.
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