This Sunday (Lindsey had scheduled months ago, even made the reservations), Hudson's to be baptized,
or christened,
or doused,
(a loose-ish sort of family)
and read-at by all of us who've paired readings with the task at hand:
Welcoming Hudson to this world, to Maine and, there's a good chance, to fog as well.
With Sarah at the helm, Matt's amassed song requests. Our DJ will come laden with iPod and CDs. Mozart will be represented, as will Jim Croce, John Denver, Ray Charles and Andean flute players. I expect an Hallelujah chorus and maybe some Free to be You and Me to temper that.
As at Linds and Chad's wedding and Linds' memorial, cousin/reverand/friend Ashley Jansen will officiate.
This evening, I took an empty ice tea bottle down to Manhattan's western edge (under the West Side Highway and an embarrassing scramble past geese and down some rocks), and filled it up with Hudson River water. That too will play a little part.
To Maine we go, gathering bits to fete our young man.
I get giddy up there, balsam-infused posts to follow.
Love to all.
C
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