After the wedding post, some folks (Canadians and ex-pat Canadians) expressed surprise and awe that Allie actually knows Fred Penner.
Years ago, when Allison was very small, I worked at CBC in Winnipeg. The department where I worked was adjacent to both the extensive record library and the studio where Fred taped his enormously popular kids' show, Fred Penner's Place.
One day, I had to stop in and do some rewrites on a script. Allison - who would have been about four, came along, and I set her up with crayons and paper at a desk outside my office while I got my work done.
I was just finishing up when I heard a squeal from her, and she threw down her crayon and took off down the long, narrow hallway to the record library.
I jumped up to see what was happening and rounded the corner in time to see my little girl leap from a distance into Fred Penner's arms.
"Allison ..." I said, but she was beyond reach of mere mortals. She was in hero-ville.
Fred scooped her up easily. "You ... you're ... Fred Penner!" she gasped.
"Yes, I am," said Fred. "And you ... I know you. You're ... that little girl who sits on the floor in front of the TV!"
"YES!" she said. "THAT'S ME!" (So it was true. Fred could actually SEE her through the television. And if he could do that, he probably heard her singing along with him, too.)
He'd heard me calling for her. Fred looked her in the eyes and said, "Wait ... aren't you Allison?"
"YES!" she said, utterly ecstatic that Fred would know her name. "I'm Allison!"
"Well, it's lovely to finally meet you, Allison," he said as he set her down. "Tomorrow I'll sing a song just for you!"
Well. Talk about a highlight of a kid's life.
In December of that year, I bought one of Fred's albums - "Special Delivery". (I want to emphasize that I bought the album - rather than borrowing it from the record library, as I certainly could. Otherwise, what I did would have violated an artist's copyright.)
I stopped Fred in the hallway and asked him to do me a little favour. We ducked into a recording studio, I handed him a script, and rolled tape.
That year, for Christmas, we gave the girls small cassette recorders - a kids' version of the Sony Walkman. Allison's came with a tape already inside.
On Christmas morning, she opened it, put on the headphones, and pushed "Play" She heard:
"Allison? Allison Ling? I thought it was you. This is Fred. Fred Penner. Hey, Allison, I made some songs just for you. I hope you'll learn them and sing along with me ... here we go!" And then the album started.
Well. If I'd been much smarter, I'd have taken a picture of her face at that moment. No, a video. it would have started with puzzlement ... then slow realization ... then utter, unbridled joy, the kind of joy only kids can ever know.
Another present that she got that Christmas was a sweatshirt which we'd had personalized with a picture, taken at that year's CBC Christmas party.
I haven't seen that sweatshirt in years - decades, I suppose. But unless I don't know my little girl as well as I think I do, that shirt is neatly folded away in a drawer somewhere, and she will have it forever.
When Allison was in elementary school, she was in a string orchestra called the Singing Strings. Shortly after she joined the orchestra, the conductor - John Clement, who became a mentor to Allison (and many others) - passed out music to the group. It was Handel's "The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba".
As the group began playing, Allison leaned over to her seatmate and said, "This is the music that I want to walk down the aisle to."
That's how long Allison has been planning this wedding.
It showed.
There's a wedding album to the left - click on it to see some selected moments from the day. In the meantime, I'll give you a few snapshots here in the form of some moments that stood out for me.
The wedding was held on a Saturday. The girls in the bridal party - including my wife - were all meeting early in the morning for breakfast and then going to get their hair done, fingernails cut, toenails painted, cycles synchronized. Girlie stuff. Did not involve me.
So I gathered together a couple of friends who were in for the wedding, and we went golfing.
I expected to come home to a madhouse, but I guess one of the benefits of meticulous preparation - if Allison weren't a talented and passionate teacher, she'd make a kick-ass event planner - is that things were calm and ordered and running to time. By now the girls were all back at our house, clustered up in the master bedroom (which has an attached dressing room), and ... again, girlie stuff. Makeup. Boy talk. Watching "The Notebook". I have no idea.
My wife was having none of this "calm" bullshit. This was a by God wedding, and it wouldn't be a wedding without a crisis, and if there wasn't one readily available, she was prepared to manufacture one. So she rushed down and informed me that we had to take some wedding cakes to the reception hall.
(Side note on Allison's brilliance: instead of the traditional wedding cake, she had decided to ask a few friends and loved ones to bake and decorate a small cake. Each of these beautiful and delicious cakes were to be put on pedestals and would each serve as the centrepiece for a given table. And, of course, dessert. How smart is that?)
Well, one of the cakes didn't have a pedestal. Oh, boy. The day was ruined. It was all collapsing in a heap of ashes and Allison would wind up weeping and sobbing with her life in shards around her. Or, you know, we could use my cell phone, call my wife's best friend, and she could cheerfully offer to go pick up a pedestal and make sure she got to the hall early so that the offending cake could be raised and the day rescued.
Disaster averted. A narrow miss, to be sure. But all was good.
We got back to the house, I grabbed one of the few minutes when the shower wasn't in use (with six house guests and a bridal party all straining the resources, timing was everything), then got dressed and ...
... nothing. It was only 2:30. The wedding wasn't till 4. What was my hurry? I poured myself a drink and relaxed. I do "relax" pretty well.
At around 3:15 or so, the house was filling up. Everybody had cleaned up nicely. I was called to the foot of the stairs to watch Allison descend.
The look of her literally - not figuratively but literally - took my breath away. I think you can see that in the photos.
Conversation En Route To The Church
Allie: I think I have to go poo.
Me: Should we stop at Tim Horton's? (Canadian coffee shop chain - think Dunkin' Donuts).
Allie: Yeah, that would be great. Go into Tim Horton's dressed like this and say "Can I use your bathroom? I have to poo."
Erin: Well, I believe if you go into Tim's in a wedding dress, you're required to say "Can I use your bathroom? I have to take a dump."
What followed was a discussion that began with the logistical challenges of pooing in a wedding dress, and moved on to pee, puke, and boogers. We are such a classy family.
Deadly Cute
Allison and I got into the church and people were already in place. The bridesmaids were milling about, assorted children were being kids, and the string orchestra - under the direction of John Clement - was playing excerpts from "The Sound of Music".
The minister came back and made sure everyone was ready. Allison - who actually had ducked into the church washroom (for a pee, and she was unwilling to divulge the logistics involved, for which I am grateful, except to say "It's trickier than you might think.") - gave him the go-ahead.
The music changed. Time to go.
Here is a video of the procession. Be prepared to be slain by cuteness.
There is only one way to fight that.
Take that, Cute Kid.
Daddy, Stop Teasing
When she was a little girl, and I was a stay-at-home Dad/writer/performer, I would often take Allie with me when I went out to schools to do storytelling workshops. Part of the workshop was always about letting your imagination run free - and she and I had a song we'd perform that sort of illustrated that.
It was a song written by Eric Nagler, a well-known Canadian children's performer, called "Daddy, Stop Teasing". The lyrics (as I adapted them for us):
Me:
Allison, guess what I just saw outside? An elephatamus with a black naugahyde. He was eating the Chevy, and what could I do? And he said when he's finished, he's coming for you.
Allie (chorus):
Daddy, stop teasing, it's not very pleasing, It's awfully confusing when you don't know what's true. I know that you love me and that's why you do it, But Daddy stop teasing, whatever you do.
Me:
How would it be if you drove my car? We'll go to Fort Garry, it's not very far. These phone books will help you look over the dash, And we'll fool all the cops if you wear my moustache.
Chorus
Well, guess what we're having for supper today? Some eggplants and onions all mixed up with hay. Petrified Tasmanian turtletoes are nice, With snakes' heads, worms' tonsils, and sugar and spice.
Chorus
Coda:
Me: Well, if I can't tease you, how can I show you that I love you?
Allie: Buy me an ice-cream cone, I guess.
The song is in 3/4 time, perfect as an old-time waltz. But who would ever waltz to that, unless you were, I don't know, trying to make your father cry at your wedding? Of course, the actual music is hard to find. Why, you'd have to email Eric Nagler months and months ahead of the wedding and get him to send you the song. What kind of dork would go to that trouble, just to make her Dad cry?
Yeah. Well played.
Turnabout Is Fair play
At the end of my speech at the reception, I directed everybody's attention to the screen set up in front.
For a week or more before the wedding I had worked hard to assemble a slide show, depicting both kids' pasts and bringing us to today. I also wanted to remind us that there were some people missing from the pictures today - but not from our hearts.
I matched the pictures up to music and tried to craft it as a small movie. It's Other Peoples' Children, so you're forgiven if you're not interested in seeing it. but I think it's pretty nice.
Some notes: I love the joke early on in this: "How did he get to be so tall?" Umm. He ain't.
There's a picture of Allie with a guy in a beard. That's Fred Penner - a friend of mine and one of Canada's best known children's performers. Sorta like having a picture of your kid with Mr. Rogers. Only cooler.
Please excuse my appearance in some of these photos. It was the 80s. How did YOU look? OK, then.
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