Telling MoMo

There are many different nicknames for a grandmother. Granny, Gran, Me-Maw, Nana, Noni,  Gram, GG, and the list goes on.  For my fiancee, the nickname of choice for hers is MoMo pronounced phonetically as MawMaw.

The first time I met MoMo, was my first time in New Orleans. I was excited to see where Candice grew up. The neighborhood in the mostly middle class black area of Gentilly, in the house, that even though damaged by Katrina, was rebuilt and still stood strong on the corner of  the intersection of two tree-lined streets.

The first time I met MoMo's acquaintance she opened the door and we were greeted by a small framed Creole woman with pale blue eyes, a warm smile, and a "Hello Baby!" Said with a strong New Orleans drawl-phonetically pronounced- "Hello Byeh-be!" Her two dogs and two cats greeted us as well and we all squeezed on the couch as an episode of Say Yes to the Dress became the background noise of our introductory conversation. In hind sight, that detail is  pretty ironic, but at the time I was less intrigued by what MoMo was watching and more intrigued by what she was cooking. MoMo always had something ready for you to eat when you came over. Candice had warned me about it but to actually smell the yumminess coming from the kitchen was an entirely different story. The first thing I ever ate at MoMo's was smothered chicken in brown gravy, rice, and yellow corn. It may seem simple, but it was one of the many times in life I was reminded that things aren't always as they seem. Her smothered chicken, veggie soup, pork chops with a side of mac and cheese, and lasagna, quickly became the home cooked dishes I looked forward to having every time I would visit New Orleans with Candice- and for some reason MoMo took a  liking to me which meant that she always wanted to feed me as well.   As far as she knew Candice and I were good friends that went way back. She never really asked us questions about our friendship-but was always intrigued by stories of my travels as I was influx with my career at the time and was traveling between several jobs and states. MoMo was also slightly agoraphobic and didn't get outside much. She went to the grocery store, church, and occasionally to the vet to take her pets for their check-ups-but that was about the extent of her adventures outside of the house. In fact, a lot of what she enjoyed talking about were the unfortunate tragedies that befell innocent civilians she would hear about on the morning news. So and so was kidnapped-so and so was caught up in a drive by-so and so got arrested for drugs, so and so got robbed in the French Quarter-and being that I too am intrigued by a series of unfortunate events, we tended to bond over the sadness of others' misfortunes.  I didn't care how we bonded, I just cared that we did.

This is why, when Candice informed me that she was going to tell MoMo we had gotten engaged, my first response was not, "oh that's so wonderful and sweet honey, but more like, umm...really, are you sure that's the best idea?" You see, I really valued the connection MoMo and I shared. After all, both my grandmothers who I had been close to growing up had passed some years ago and I discovered that I missed the words of wisdom and home cooked meals and reassuring hugs that can only really come from a grandmother. But Candice was adamant. MoMo was her heart, the woman that had helped raise her, and she wanted her to know that I was not just a good friend she spent a  lot of time with, but that I was also her heart, a woman who she loved and was choosing to spend her life with and was proud of. Well, when u put it that way...after I wiped the tears away and hugged Candice, I told her I would support her in any way she needed me to in this endeavor. "Ok, she said, "How about coming with me to New Orleans and being there when I tell MoMo?' GULP. Ummm...

So... about two weeks after the proposal, we are on a plane together to New Orleans and I feel my underarms beginning to sweat already and we hadn't even taken off yet. Two feelings were being had-one: my fiancee is the bravest and sweetest woman ever and everything will be fine, and two: my fiancee is the craziest woman ever and I am terrified of what's to come. We land in New Orleans and pretty much go straight to MoMo's house. I tried to stall by suggesting we go get a snowball, or a po-boy, but Candice was on a mission and reminded me that MoMo probably had food ready for us. Good point. Shit.

We pull up, and both of us are sweating profusely. Candice lets me know that she has no idea what she is going to say or how she is going to say it. I remind myself that I need to be strong for her in this moment. This is HER moment and I am here to be supportive and proud and do whatever she needs me to do or not do. I think in hindsight I was feeling more protective of her feelings than anything else. I knew how much MoMo meant to her and I couldn't bare the thought of her putting herself out there only to be spurned or rejected by the person she loved most.

The door opened, and MoMo's pale blue eyes narrowed as she grinned at us. Crawfish were on the table ready to be broken into and there was cake for dessert. This was starting off well. The usual small talk about the weather and catching up ensued, followed by a story of woe, taken from the headlines of the morning news about a woman who abandoned her baby in a car, and a female police officer who had been killed on her first day on duty. As we shook our heads at the tragedy and commiserated about the dangers of New Orleans and the world in general, Candice still bubbling over with nervous energy, gets up from the table and begins scrubbing at some dirty dishes. It is in this moment that with a clear and confident voice she says, "so MoMo, we actually came her to tell you some big news-Zina is getting married!" Gulp. What? What am I supposed to do with that? It's like throwing someone a line without a hook. But I'm along for the ride so here we go. MoMo looks to me, "Oh, yeah baby? So when's the weddin?" Gulp. When? Do I say to who? No, that's Candice's job. She asked me when. Stick to the script. "Um, we are looking at February or October of 2017." Awkward silence for about two minutes which seems like ten. Then. Candice: "Do you have any idea who Zina might be marrying?" MoMo: "Well, how would I know?" Another awkward pause for about 60 seconds that feels like an hour. Then MoMo: "I don't know." She looks to Candice.  MoMo: "Is it you?" SCREEEEEETCH! She knows! Candice nods: "Yes MoMo. She's getting married to me. I proposed and she said yes." Pause. Pause. Silence.  More silence. And then, what can only be described as a low murmur; almost a humming sound can be heard coming from MoMo -like a church song hum-"mmmmmmmm." It was as if she was having a brief moment with God and then that was it-subject was changed back to the weather- as Candice finished the dishes. After about 5 minutes MoMo invites us to come back in the morning for eggs and grits.  Wow.

Upon me asking Candice how she thought it went when we left: "Inviting us for breakfast was her way of getting things back to normal. Because she loves us both she is probably going to act like the conversation never happened so that she can continue to love us. I guess denial is better than the alternative."

The next day as we are waiting at the airport to catch our flight back, Candice calls MoMo.  MoMo: "So did ya tell ya Uncle Glen ya gettin' married? Or you want me to tell 'em?" Candice smiles from ear to ear. I guess MoMo wasn't in denial after all.

The Proposal

So apparently Candice had been planning this for awhile. I just had a BIG birthday in wine country- Sonoma, CA which she organized and pulled off with the expertise of a giddy gay event planner throwing a Madonna tribute party. It was absolutely fabulous. So never would I have imagined that at the same time she was wrapping up a destination birthday party complete with friends and my parents, that she was also planning the next chapter of our lives together.

The week of Valentines Day I was in Chicago teaching and she was in Dallas working her new gig at AA. We were having our usual nightly chat via phone where we were discussing the fact that SHE was planning Valentines Day this year AND she wasn't going to tell me what we were doing. Past years consisted of a romantic plantation excursion on the outskirts of Baton Rouge, fancy dinner plans, and even a concert or two. So what did she have up her sleeve now? The last thing I thought it would be was a proposal. So how to explain? Well let me start by saying that we've always had this thing with the Rocky movies. When we first started dating we had those getting to know you conversations as most newly forming couples do- some of which go pretty deep- like tell me about your deepest fears, and others that just touch the surface- like what are your favorite movies? It was during one of these surface discussions that she found out I had never seen any of the Rocky films which was baffling to her. Not to mention that when we first met online 3 years ago (which will be further examined in another blog entry) she thought my real name was Adrienne. An alias I go by when I don't want anyone to know who I really am-actually it's just my middle name so not that mysterious at all. Anyways, she proceeded to show me the first three Rocky's in one weekend and I loved them. We then joked that she was Rocky and I was Adrienne based on our various personality traits and it became a cute couply thing-a running inside joke that no one else was in on. I tell this story, which seems off topic for a reason. It directly relates back to the original proposal story that she had been secretly planning for some time leading up to Valentines Day.

In short, the plan was this: she was going to fly us to Philly, run us up those famous steps from the Rocky movie, and using a script that she had written herself, she was going to purpose. Romantic right?  I certainly thought so when she told me the idea AFTER she had actually proposed in Grand Rapids Michigan on Valentines Day instead. How did we end up there? This is when the uncontrollable randomness of the universe began to take over.

Candice received a text that her step grandma had passed that Friday before Valentines Day and the funeral was going to be on a day we were to be in Philly. Now anyone who knows Candice knows these three things about her: she is extremely caring and loyal to those she holds dear, she is a romantic at heart, and she is incredibly stubborn. That being said, because she had had the ring for two weeks and was losing sleep over the excitement and nerves of doing the purposing, she came to two conclusions: one, out of loyalty and love for her step grandma-she was cancelling her Philly trip and going to the funeral service in Grand Rapids Michigan, and two-she was still doing the proposal come hell or high water.  So I get a phone call that plans have changed and I am to meet Candice in Grand Rapids on Valentines Day to accompany her to her step grandmother's memorial service on the day after. Now, also in Candice's head was the question of where in Grand Rapids would there be a place as romantic as the top of the famous Rocky steps on Valentines Day for a proposal?

That place ended up being the 1929 Spillman Carousel at The Grand Rapids Museum. You see, when we were in Paris two Christmas' prior with my parents, we went to a little town called Rouen, where in the center of the town, there was a gorgeous gigantic historic carousel.  We had all just come from a small coffee shop where we had the best espresso of our lives and there it was - a thing of splendor-in motion-rotating in a slow circle, the glow of the brightly lit bulbs and wild looking horses calling to us-telling us to jump on- and although there was no conductor-we did just that. She and I jumped on the moving carousel while my parents looked on amused by our carefree decision to just go for it. It was in that moment that Candice said to me that she had never seen my face full of such pure joy. And she was right. I was having a ball and there she was, this girl I was falling for, with me-in France-on Christmas-what more could a girl ask for?

I guess that question was answered two years later when on the last ride of the night, on the Spillman Carousel in Grand Rapids Michigan, on Valentines Day, she leans over while on a white horse with gold reins, and reminds me of the pure joy I had on my face on the carousel in Rouen. She then tells me how much joy I have brought to her life over the past three years, and asks me to be her wife.  I was shocked. I couldn't believe it. So she gets down off of her white horse, gets on one knee at the floor of the carousel, and proceeds to ask me again, at which point I register what is happening and squeal out a "yes!" Pretty freakin' romantic and amazing right? That's Candice for you. And that's why she is going to be my wife!