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The experiential whole of it – the Hindu/Victorian/bicycle/New Orleans with a California attitude/Santa Monica/Yellow Submarine vibe – the awesome celebration of it – that is my favorite memory.
The strikingly handsome couple who are warm, wonderful, beautiful people inside and out. I loved the Indian garb – Delia absolutely stunning in her red sari. There was no doubt that they were a couple as they entered the room.
The incredibly moving Lakshmi Narayan Puja ceremony – the amazing Indian music (with one of the musicians now living and working in LA, who just happened to go to high school with Lyle in Florida). The serious authenticity of the ceremony with Shiva Kumar that drew everyone attending into one body – and the true marriage we witnessed as Delia and Lyle’s souls danced and played and merged before us – a true union – and our souls joined to them as each of us blessed them with flowers and they called us by name. This ceremony rendered the fun, fabulous wedding park a formality – a western celebration and affirmation that was a perfect compliment.
Lyle’s show-stopping, magnificent hand-tailored swallow-tailed suit . . .the top hat . . .the shoes . . .and the vision of him anticipating Delia’s arrival with trumpet in hand.
Delia arriving on a bicycle-built-for-two with her father, Steve. That was so adorable and produced so many broad smiles that from Delia and Steve’s vantage point they must have seen a lot of gleaming teeth from those seated or lounging on their green blankets in Palisades Park.
Delia’s fabulous hat decorated to the nth degree, the dress with the wonderful bustle and the shoes . . .oh, those shoes! Someone snagged a photo of just Lyle and Delia’s shoes during the ceremony – perfect.
The band!!! Critical Brass boogying down the sidewalk leading the parade of pink-punk bridesmaids ala bicycles with Lyle on trumpet playing them in.
The groomsmen in perfectly understated period garb boogying down the aisle with their anything but under-stated pink-punk bridesmaids on their arms. The music and the boogying wedding party was genius.
Meeting Delia’s Texas family and seeing old Florida friends at a wedding where New York City, San Francisco and Los Angeles seemed equally represented by a wonderful, loving, congenial gaggle of friends who all love Delia and Lyle.
Jackie looking fabulous and precious in her pearl gray flapper dress – and that gift the wedding produced for me (and with the help of her father) – a first ever one whole week alone with my youngest daughter.
Lyle and Delia strewing baskets of rose petals all over their guests in the fog in the park. The day had been perfect and sunny and the fog that arrived as the ceremony wrapped, as if on cue, added that feeling of the surreal.
Delia’s merry laugh as Lyle read his pledge – and all the love from everyone rising from the park and drawing in a band of spectators including, reportedly, Maria Shriver, California’s First Lady, momentarily caught in a happy moment between two personally difficult passages. And, a dear and confused old man who joined the wedding party and was welcomed.
And since theses are personal memories – arriving at the Santa Monica Bay Women’s Club for the reception and the stern and formidable stranger guarding the door telling me my dress was beautiful and making me feel a part of the beautiful assembly.
Delia’s gorgeous flower arrangements – lush with mums and roses – wonderful roses and candlelight and the wedding party donning aprons to serving the wedding guests in lieu of a receiving line.
The guests assembled on the stage singing together, Lyle manically leading them and reveling in the moment – Delia by his side.
Heart felt toasts – and sitting at a table of bashful elders with toasts and good wishes in their hearts and not enough courage to climb on the stage and take the microphone. After reading from The Prophet during the ceremony in the park, it hadn’t occurred to me that I should give a toast. My late, great, and dear husband Jim would have absolutely loved this wedding and he would have bounded on to the stage to shower the beloved bride and groom with blessings. I know he was there in spirit cheering on his stepson and good friend, and his amazing new daughter-in-law, to a lifetime of love and happiness.
The reception was the cherry on top of the whipped cream on top of the hot fudge on top of the yummy ice cream – the band – hoops – singing – the dancing . . .Jackie (Who was that masked man?) being flipped and thrown as if she was on Dancing with the Stars. Walking back to our fairytale, 1930s art deco boutique hotel down 3rd St. Promenade decked out in marigolds and carrying bouquets of roses.
The decorated, traffic stopping bike parade. Lyle in his suit riding the old-timey bike with one large wheel in front and a tiny one in back. A genius stroke – Delia arriving with Dad ala tandem and leaving with Lyle ala tandem.
Only two roses remain, being pressed under huge books, and a large bowl of valiant marigolds still sits on the counter and what remains of the perfect day are all the memories to treasure. Thanks, Delia and Lyle Beers for a wonderful day. May God’s infinite blessings pour down upon you.
Sandra Shaffer Barber (Lyle's Mom)
