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Real Weddings

By Jenny Fiore
Photography by Winfield Little

"To the moon, Alice! You're gonna go to the moon!" Honeymooners' Ralph Kramden was always threatening his wife with voyages to outer space. Of course, everyone knew he was figuratively speaking. No one in the Kramden's 1950s sit-com household was ever going anywhere beyond the city limits, let alone the earth's atmosphere. But imagine, now, if you actually could use Ralph's line on your own spouse---and mean it, in a good way. NASA food engineer Lisa Ristow probably can. She chose to marry an astronaut.

Astronaut Mark Polansky at work

Fiancé Mark Polansky, was one of those kids who always knew what he wanted to be when he grew up. His mother, Edith, says he made the announcement when he was five years old, after seeing Alan Shepherd on TV. "I'm going to be an astronaut," he declared to her. And that, as they say, was that. Nearly forty years later, Mark delivered on that promise when he piloted the Space Shuttle Atlantis for his first shuttle mission, STS-98. It was just eight months before the wedding.

To make planning even more interesting yet, Mark and Lisa live in Houston but wanted to marry in Lisa's hometown, San Antonio. The couple ultimately enlisted the help of Mary Keene, a wedding coordinator at Angel Creations. She helped them pull off a day of up-do splendor followed by an evening of let-your-hair-down fun.

The Wedding
The sounds of the pipe organ could be heard just at the front of Central Christian Church. Pink rose petals spilled down the stony steps, like a trail of breadcrumbs leading guests to the guest book and programs in the foyer. Thanks to simple captions in the programs saying "sister of bride" or "friend of groom," no one was left whispering, "Do you think that's so-and-so's niece?" as little girls tromped up the aisle scattering rose petals.

Inside the sanctuary, white pew bows with tulle, greens, and delicate pink rose accents punctuated the dark wooden pews. Back rows were cordoned off with ribbon and signs asking guests to sit toward the front; this helped ensure that guests wouldn't spread thin and make the cavernously big, high-ceilinged church feel empty.

The soft light that filtered through the tall stained-glass windows of the chapel set a romantic tone. Their crimsons, purples, emeralds, and golds cast a warm hue over the sanctuary. Four candelabra led the eye toward one splendid floral arrangement in the recessed center of the front wall. The candelabra were lit about ten minutes before the ceremony while a soloist sang Ave Maria.

Groomsmen and bridesmaids do not have to "march" into the church together, stiffly conjoined in uncomfortable pairs. At this wedding, the groomsmen entered with the groom from the front of the sanctuary in classic black tuxedos. Bridesmaids entered from the back, wearing floor-length, golden-sage gowns. Once the last note of Pachelbel's Cannon in D was struck, all necks stretched to see the bride.

"Wow," said Mark to his best man, as Lisa entered in a floor-length satin gown. A smooth princess-line skirt offset Lisa's ornate strapless bodice. Pearlescent sequins and beading glimmered in the candlelight. Bejeweled in platinum---a rhinestone necklace, drop earrings, and a pearl-and-rhinestone tiara---she was literally sparkling. With her ankle-length veil swept back, you could see it even in her eyes.

The Reception
As Lisa and Mark finished up photos at the church, their guests easily found their way to the reception. Out of town guests had received the couple's wedding packets upon check-in at their hotels. The packets contained a welcome letter, city guides, maps, coupons, and an itinerary with addresses and phone numbers. The reception site, the elegant St. Anthony's Hotel, was within a pleasant walking distance of the church.

St. Anthony's Peacock Alley screams elegance, with a massive stone fireplace, plush wingback chairs, gold-leaf mirrors, and ornate crown molding. Guests mingled here around a full, open bar under glimmering crystal chandeliers. Tuxedoed waiters strolled the long room with trays of hors d'oeuvres and glasses of red and white wine.

"Mark's crazy about Lisa," said bridesmaid Kelly Saucier as she nibbled on one of the artfully piled hors d'oeuvres. "He thinks she hung the moon."

Mark's mom, a small woman with a kind and knowing look, settled onto the wing of a chair. Her eyes proudly grazed the room, with that afterglow of wedding still shining in them. She noted that Lisa had already been a daughter to her, in spirit if not in marriage. "I don't even put the towels out anymore," she said. "She's been family for quite awhile now."

Once the couple arrived by horse-drawn carriage, the crowd was ushered into the Anacacho dining room. Here, Keene's assistant had spent the entire afternoon ensuring the setting would come together as planned.

The foyer contained a candlelit display of the couple's engagement photo and a formal photo of Lisa in her gown. All the guests, including plenty of dreamy-eyed little girls, were able to get a closer look here at the bride in her full regalia.

Inside, the centerpiece was an ornate, all-white, four-layer cake from Scratch Bakery, embellished with gum-paste Dogwood blossoms---the bride's favorite bloom. (As a tree blossom, these aren't ideal for a bouquet, so Lisa opted for traditional roses.) Lighted faux Dogwood blossoms also lined the railing of the balcony. In the corner, a square chocolate groom's cake was piled with scrumptious-looking chocolate shavings and chocolate-covered strawberries.

Greens and faux Dogwood blossoms encircled hurricane lamp centerpieces on each table. Place settings for the wedding party included calligraphied nametags in decorative gift frames. The most special gift, however, may have been that given by Mark to his new brother-in-law: a snapshot of Texas as viewed from space, taken during the shuttle mission.

After a buffet dinner, Mark offered some special words for guests who had taken to the skies to attend the wedding. Coordinator Keene said dozens of guests didn't make it because of worries in the wake of the September 11 attacks. "Flying is no small task in this day," Mark said. "So I want to thank you all." Mark went on to say that he and Lisa had themselves talked about postponing their overseas honeymoon. "We basically talked about it and said, 'Oh, hell with it,'" he smiled. The newlyweds would leave for Italy in two days.

Instead of tossing her bouquet, Lisa held a contest of merit. Couples were called out as Johnny Matthis's Twelfth of Never played---couples who'd been married five months or less, then five years or less, then ten years, and so on, until the longest marriage was revealed. The wife received the bouquet, which---because it wasn't frantically vied for by a mob of bachelorettes---was in flawless condition.

The day would end with a rollicking, boogie-down funfest after cake and toasts. Barefoot bridesmaids and men with loosened ties would shake their moneymakers to Kool and the Gang's Celebration. But not until the couple danced their first married dance to Steve Tyrel's butter-smooth rendition of The Way You Look Tonight. And not until Mark led his mom, and Lisa was joined by her dad, in a dance to Louis Armstrong's Wonderful World.

Indeed, just weeks after September 11, there was a strange, new power in those lyrics. It could be seen in a bride's eyes, her groom's "wow," a mother's pride, and a brother's gift. It was in the faces of little girls sneaking small fingers toward the edges of a veil, and the smile of a gray-haired wife clutching a surprise bouquet. Love goes on, and it is a wonderful world.