Making history

A lot of people made history this week. But we only know some of their stories. And the stories we do know are sometimes subjected to questions of validity.

When, though, do those questions or details ever really matter? The way we make history and the way we remember it are often quite different.

There was a moment, and a relationship that was central to it, that seemed to change the course of my life. It was tenacious. Passionate. Fierce. Good for my writing, bad for my soul. Full of cocktails. Rich with dialogue. And eventually painful. For too long after it had ended, a part of me felt almost haunted by it. The good memories seemed so much better than they were. The bad ones seemed justifiable. And all the minutes in between seemed longer than normal minutes, like 75 seconds reminding me that I was alone.

Being Candy, being someone who believes the martini glass is always half full, I made the most of it. And being that I was in college, that meant I had sex with someone else as fast as I could to get over him. And being that I was a college girl in my early twenties, that did not take long.

One day, the pain of my actions and the pain of his absence simply went away.

When I look back now, I have no idea what my reason was for walking away. Even with my photographic memory. Granted, there were probably a hundred people who had a hundred reasons why I should've walked away even sooner--myself included--but I don't remember what was the pivotal moment in our history that made me walk away, literally, and also avoid all temptation to turn around and see if he was watching me walk away.

But I remember why I didn't turn around--fear that maybe he was watching me walk away with a look on his face that suggested he felt the romance of longing, and fear that maybe he wasn't. Once I made it to my Isuzu Trooper that day, I loudly played "Purple Rain" by Prince during the drive home, over and over until I didn't need to listen to it anymore.

I didn't choose that song because it had anything to do with our relationship, nor did it describe any of it's failings. I just needed to hear a good song--a song with genius and heart, a song that was bigger than me. One of my high school best friends always said, "All a girl really needs in this world, Candy, is good music, good coffee and great friends." I guess it stuck.

Oddly enough, what I'm proud of more than knowing when to walk away is never letting a bad thing come between my relationship with good music. There's not one band or album or song I've forsaken because of tainted love.

"Purple Rain" is still one of my all-time favorite songs, and it makes me think of many things. Mostly though, it's just musically incomparable. It's epic. And it's from one of the best albums of all time, of the same title. I have the history to prove this. My first copy was on vinyl. Then a cassette. Then a CD. Now a microchip. It still sounds best in a car though.

Penguins and bridesmaids

The Pittsburgh Penguins incredible season has mostly been buried today by comparisons of their team to forgotten bridesmaids. But that's not such a bad thing.

As someone who watched every Penguins game this season (and a few seasons prior), I'm extremely proud of our local hockey players. They played hard, and with respect, and there's still a lot of talent on our team. That's why, despite my disappointment last evening, I didn't wake up feeling sad. I'm beyond confident that we'll make it back to the Cup finals, and we'll win next time. And when the Pens go home with the Cup the next time, we'll forget all about the pain of this loss.

Let's be real about something though: It's a lot less of a big deal to be a forgotten bridesmaid than the loser of a championship. The former usually has to do with the natural progression of life as opposed to an unfulfilled dream. For some of these athletes, it's their life's work. I've been both a bride and a bridesmaid. It's nobody's life's work. (If by some rare chance it is, I'm sorry--to you and for you.)

Bridesmaids and weddings have been coming up in conversation a lot lately. One of my friends recently got engaged, and one of our cousins got engaged this past weekend. Once you've had a wedding of your own, people like to pick your brain a little.

But I should point out that Larry and I are bad to go to advice for on this topic. We weren't the kind of couple, or the type of people, to analyze or agonize over things most people won't remember. I think weddings should reflect the couple. If you spend most of your days looking like you walked out of Vogue magazine, then maybe that's what your wedding should be. If you sit around bonfires with beer most of the time, maybe you're destined for an outdoor wedding and a picnic that follows.

Trust me on this, though, if you try to make your wedding something you are not--it will be hell to plan.

A journalism professor in college taught us that when you have the right lead, the rest of the story flows easily, naturally. I think that's true about a lot of things in life.

My wedding dress was the third one I tried on. I picked my flowers in less than 30 minutes. The cake was from Bethel Bakery--a no-brainer. My matron of honor picked the bridesmaids dresses and talked it over with the rest of the girls--they would be wearing the dress, not me. We got married in the small church I grew up in. It didn't overlook the city. It barely overlooked the Mon River. Michelangelo did not paint the ceilings. There was no waiting list. Our dinner was buffet style for the 400 people who attended our reception in a fire hall. Sure, the invitation may have said "banquet hall," but on Tuesday nights, it's full of bingo players.

We saved tons of money that way. We invited our friends and family. We didn't stress over cutting people off the list we grew up with because we couldn't afford to feed them. We fed and watered them all very well.

You could say a lot about my wedding, but you can't say it wasn't fun. And, in the end, that's what people will remember most.

So don't worry about flowers and bridesmaids. Pick both with the knowledge that it's the choice you are making now--whenever now is for you. And as you grow, and your life grows, you might have chosen a lily over a rose, or a Becky over a Bonnie, but it's about what you feel in your heart now that influences you choice.

The only thing about that whole day that even matters are the vows you take with the person you love.

Clintons

Unfortunately for Hillary Rodham Clinton, the vows she took may be what both propelled her into making history as the first woman to receive 18 million votes for the Democratic nomination and yet kept her from being its nominee. I'm willing to bet the same rednecks who've said in interviews, "I don't think this country is ready for a black president yet or nothing" are the same rednecks who voted for her because they actually believed it would be Bill controlling the White House. And I also believe some of the votes she lost were lost because some people are just over it about Bill's conduct on and off the campaign trail.

What woman should all admire, though, is that she never gave up and also showed us a wonderful model of a beautiful relationship between mother and child. Seriously, I'm truly moved by the way Chelsea championed for her mother throughout this process.

I wish the media could've given her the time she deserved to close the campaign with a little more class. The impatience for her to just quit was absurd. Her supporters--especially those she brought into the process for the first time--deserved a proper farewell.

That said, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert made me laugh so hard during their post-primary coverage on their shows about the whole thing.

Obamas

OK. I've been an Obama supporter all along, so I was happy he won the nomination. And while I was kind of proud he's the first black man on the Democratic ticket, I'll be prouder if he's the first black man in the Oval Office. Press Up, America.

And speaking of the Press Up, were any of my college friends as proud when the Obamas hit the rock before his acceptance speech?

SATC with MB

So, clearly, seeing "Sex and the City" with the bestest was one of the best experiences of my life. First, it was time with the bestest (while Lar got to visit with Spence), and it was my favorite Hollywood foursome.

I'd love to review it for you, but that would totally spoil it. After you see it, though, we should definitely dish about it.

But for those of you who haven't seen it yet, who loved the TV series as much, I will warn you that there's not nearly enough Mario Cantone.

Dr. Gopalani

Yes, I'm still in touch with Dr. Gopalani. Though he's so West Coast now, he still visits Pittsburgh from time to time. Now is one of those times. Which means tennis. And talk of the Vag.

MTV Movie Awards

Larry insisted I watch them. And when Adam Sandler got MTV's equivalent of the Academy's Lifetime Achievement Award, Larry beamed with joy. Beamed.

Overall, the awards were enjoyable. I was extremely happy when Coldplay performed. (And speaking of Coldplay, I wish you could see Cienna imitate their iPod commercial). I was extremely happy when Usher performed. "Love in this Club" has become somewhat of joke between Larry and me. The song amuses us, and I made it a point to learn the dance from the video. Every time I do it or attempt it, he laughs.

Pennsyltucky

One of my friends at work directed me to a Web site today that shows what celebrities would look like if they lived in Pittsburgh. They were either fat, had big hair, were fashion disasters, walked straight out of the 80s or wore t-shirts.

To our critics: Why is Pittsburgh viewed as the redneck capital of PA? Have you never been to Breezewood?