Weddings bring families together ~ December 1, 1994

David Heiller

Some big families live fairly close together, and see each other often. I think they are lucky, even if they sometimes don’t get along so well.

Yet, maybe it’s not all bad that my siblings are spread over the United States. It makes the occasions when we do get together all that more memorable.

Heillers, at a family wedding.

Like last weekend. Six of us brothers and sisters went to St. Charles, Illinois, to attend the wedding of our niece, Jenny. Everybody brought their kids too.

It was a beautifully hectic time. I tried to squeeze two years into two days with Jeanne, who I hadn’t seen since 1992. That’s impossible.

But small conversations can mean a lot, especially when you grew up together in a loving family. People don’t say many profound things at real life reunions, like they do in Hollywood. They talk about their jobs, or their kids riding in mountain bike races.

You get a taste of their lives, and you put the ingredients together and savor it all until you see them again.

David and his sister Jeanne in Jay Cooke State Park.

Jeanne and I did that during our visit last week. Then at the wedding dance on Saturday night, we said something almost in unison. Maybe it was even profound: how lucky we were to be together at this time.

Sometimes it wasn’t even necessary to talk. A smile and a hug can say as much as a book. There were plenty of both at the wedding.

I didn’t say much to Jenny. There were too many people, and being a bride is a tough job. A hug and a smile and a few words went a long way with her. You could see it in her eyes.

A dance says a lot too. Our elders used to dance more than we do. They knew that you can impart more in a few minutes of holding a loved one, and making small talk, than you can in many other ways.

David and his sister Kathy.

I didn’t talk much with my sister Kathy during our wedding reunion. It had something to do with the fact that her daughter was the one getting married. Mother-of-the-bride is a tough job too.

But we did dance. She asked me how things were going. I did the same. A two minute conversation, but one I’ll remember, because it conveyed more than words. It conveyed love and concern and gratitude for just being together.

Watching my nieces and nephews was just as fun. I sat next to a nephew at dinner. He told me about his role in a play at school. He was excited about it, and spoke with a pride and intelligence that I had not seen before.

Another nephew is a wrestler, like I was in high school. He was an usher at his sister’s wedding, just like I was at the wedding of my sister Kathy—his mother—26 years ago.

That was a wonderful connection. He was the kind of kid that would have been my friend back in eighth grade, and the kind of kid that an uncle could love now.

The same for his big brother, who is a senior in high school, polite, mature, handsome, and altogether likeable.

Kathy complimented Cindy and me on our kids too. She did it indirectly. At the last dance Saturday night, our 11-year-old son danced with Kathy. He asked her to dance, which made us even prouder. Cindy and I watched them and smiled. Somehow their dancing brought our whole family closer to Kathy.

Then Kathy told me afterward how Noah had talked to her all during the dance, had asked about Jenny and Chad, and hoped their honeymoon trip to New Orleans went OK. “He’s a good dancer,” she added. You can’t get a finer compliment than that.

Watching our nine-year-old daughter dance with almost all her cousins and uncles and even a few aunts brought us great joy too.

The wedding was more than a time to help Jenny and Chad celebrate their marriage. It was a time for a family to come together again. That’s something for which to be thankful.

The fine art of waving ~ August 2, 2006

David Heiller

Cindy and I were heading to Reno a couple weeks ago when we spied a farmer haling hay. The farmer gave me a look from the seat of his John Deere tractor, as if he was waiting something, and he was.

I waved. Then he waved back. I don’t know who it was, although my bet is that it was a Lampert.

Then last Sunday afternoon Mom and I and some relatives were sitting in the yard. A man on an International tractor went clipping along to the north. Mom and I looked at the driver. We waited. He looked at us, then gave a wave. Morn and I gave a good one in return. Mom’s wave was particularly hearty. She looked like she was flagging down the threshing crew for the noon meal. I think she misses living in the country and giving a real wave.

"Who was that?”‘ I asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered.

That’s the beauty of it: A wave is a good thing to do, no matter who it is. All right, there are a few exceptions, but not many.

It’s fun to think about wave protocol.

Those two instances above illustrate one rule that didn’t dawn on me until I saw Mom implement it. She didn’t wave to the International tractor driver until he waved first. That got me to thinking that the John Deere tractor driver didn’t wave to me until I waved first. My theory is that the person traveling down the road from Point A to Point B has the responsibility to wave first.

I noticed that the other day when I was driving through the parking lot at the courthouse. Darlene Kuhlers was walking past and keeping a careful eye on me. That might have had something to do with her perception of my driving skills. But more likely it was good wave manners. She was waiting, and she did not wave until I waved! That’s the key to Wave Manners 101.

There are other fine points to that course. One is that you don’t toot your horn when a wave will do. I could have given Darlene a toot, but it wouldn’t have been appropriate, even if she weren’t the court administrator.

And there proper types of waves. Mom’s threshing bee wave is fine, it’s wholesome, and hearkens back to her days on the prairie in North Dakota. You can’t go wrong with a big wave.

Our neighbor, Mark Bird, stuck his arm out the window to wave at Cindy and me while we were on a walk a couple weeks ago. It looked like he was flagging down a taxi. That’s a neighborly wave, and made us feel good.

Some waves are more reserved, of course If you don’t know the person too well, a single finger—your forefinger!—is fine. If they are decent friend, lift two fingers. If they are close friends, you may lift all four fingers. You only lift your whole hand off the wheel if their car is or fire or their wheels are coming off.

It’s good to know your vehicles too. When you are travelling 65 miles an hour on County Road 3 (not that I ever do that) it can be hard to see just who is behind that windshield. But if you know the vehicle, it’s safe to give a wave. For example, if it’s a blue minivan heading up the hill at about 7:45 during the school year there’s a strong likelihood that it’s good old Mary Serres. Give her a wave, and a four fingered one to boot!

There’s a lot more to this wave business. If you want to learn more, send $10 and a self addressed, stamped envelope to Dave Heiller, Wave Expert, Brownsville, MN 55919.