Thursday, October 6, 2005

Wedding at Brierfield

Flying back down South for a weekend wedding… The invitation reads:

Five o’clock at Brierfield Farm
Little River Road
Brierfield, Alabama
Meander to the barn afterward for the reception

Dinner the previous night is at the Birmingham Country Club. Sunday is a polo match. This all feels very horsey, like I’m going to run across Charles and Camilla Parker Bowles and Wills of Wales somewhere in the church pews. I take back what I said about the South being a bastardized version of 18th century Gallic society. Maybe we Southerners are just trying to capture a little piece of England, the Mother Country, that place we originally came from. No wonder I try to create a little piece of Alabama up here in the Big Apple. It’s a survival skill of some sort; I convince myself that I’m back home, but the best version of “home”—a home with tolerance, poetry readings, Barney’s, diversity, the Film Forum, chaos, Cipriani’s, skyscrapers, roof-top gardens, symphony in the Park, a chance to reinvent myself.

Of course, what I really want, is to share this new home of mine with someone I love. Southern Boy, where are you?

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