One hundred years after Jackson’s Eudora Welty wrote her novel “Delta Wedding,” Ginny and I headed up to Greenwood for a Delta wedding where John Madison Brooks IV married Anne Darrington Brock.
Welty’s novel was famous for her detailed descriptions and the intricacies of her observations. I can’t compete with her, but I can say the event was fascinating and beautiful, a perfect complement to the Christmas season.
The drive up was a snap thanks to Ginny’s new used 2021 Genesis with its lane centering and smart cruise control. It did all the driving, leaving me to relax and monitor.
Coming down that last big hill from Carrollton to the Delta flatland made me remember the first time doing so in 1973. Was it really 50 years ago? Was I really 15 years old? Has my life really flown by?
We were coming from the big city of Houston, Texas where my father was a top editor and publisher of the biggest newspaper in the south, the Houston Chronicle.
“Two thousand people work under me but I’m just a hired hand,” he told me. So he bought the Greenwood Commonwealth and moved back to his Mississippi roots.
I took to Mississippi like a duck to water, starting a love affair with this spiritual, rural, traditional state that has never wavered.
In Greenwood, the Emmerichs became fast friends with the Brocks. Our families were inseparable. Donnie Brock was my father’s best friend. Patty Brock was my mother’s best friend. They traveled the world together. They played tennis at my parents’ house every Friday night and then cooked dinner. How I loved those times and those rich dinner conversations.
The day my father died, instantly in the driveway returning from his regular run, the entire Brock family gathered at our house which we called Valley Hill because it was the last hill overlooking the Delta.
There we all hugged and mourned and cried for hours, simultaneously telling stories about John and toasting to the blessing of having him in the first place. My father’s death was a turning point in a beautiful union of two families.
My mother kept the connection strong. I stayed close to all the Brock children, Ashley, Don, Palmer and Jennifer as we all grew older and had children of our own.
Donnie became like a second father to me, giving me advice as I struggled to run my father’s business.
Years later my mother passed away. Then Donnie. As I watched their lifeless bodies descend into the ground, my mind raced back to those perfect years that we thought would never end. Life moves on.
Don Brock succeeded his father as a prominent Greenwood attorney. A brilliant man with a sparkling sense of humor, we have remained as close as distance and the rigors of family raising allow. When he called me personally to be sure we were coming to the wedding, I was touched and elated.
I don’t think I have ever been to a better wedding venue. The Alluvian Hotel, the First Presbyterian Church and the Elks Lodge all right next to one another. The Alluvian is now some 20 years old but still elegant. The First Presbyterian Church is beautiful and the Elks Lodge was a perfect party facility, with a separate floor for dancing and music.
Typical for us, we arrived with not a moment to spare and it was standing room only. As it turns out, this was perfect. We got to stand in the foyer as all the bridesmaids and groomsmen gathered before the 40-person processional.
The young men and women were excited. Their faces glowed. So young, angelic almost, or so they seemed to an old man used to staring at his own time-worn face in the mirror. Just yesteryear those two young people holding hands on the altar were Ginny and me.
The tuxes and dresses were magnificent and the formal Christian ceremony seemed soaked with centuries of tradition. For a moment I felt transported back to another time and age, when the Delta was in its golden age.
At the reception the drinks flowed bountifully — another undeniable attribute of the Delta — and the roar of conversation testified to the energy and joy of the people. I saw so many friends from my precious Greenwood days. They were movers and shakers back then, a time when the Delta was booming. Now mostly retired. Warm smiles, meaningful handshakes.
As the night waned, I found my way to the upper floor where the rhythm and blues band was popping and the young ‘uns were whooping and hollering. In the back was a raised dais where the Brocks had gathered to survey the scene. There was Patty looking beautiful, poised, perfect and timeless.
“Ask her to dance,” Ginny whispered in my ear. But Patty demurred. She was the queen, the matriarch and she would remain regal in the moment.
So this was my Christmas gift. The perfect wedding with the Brocks. Affirmation that though my life is winding down, life itself is renewing in all its grandeur.
This is the promise of Christmas. That God himself came to earth to let us know the way, his plan and the beautiful promise of life everlasting.
