I do!
September 19, 2021
Another in a series of observations of life as I know it.
Let me tell you about the very rich. They are different from you and me. They possess and enjoy early, and it does something to them, makes them soft where we are hard, and cynical where we are trustful, in a way that, unless you were born rich, it is very difficult to understand. They think, deep in their hearts, that they are better than we are because we had to discover the compensations and refuges of life for ourselves. Even when they enter deep into our world or sink below us, they still think that they are better than we
are. They are different.
-F. Scott Fitzgerald
~~~~~
I have now seen it all. And because of this, I am changed. Yesterday, in the sleepy, white, chintz and old money enclave of Chatham, Massachusetts, a wedding of gargantuan proportions took place. The price tag is obscenely large. And it has turned this town upside down. My bet is the Methodist church on Main Street will address the wages of sin at services today. And everyone with a pair of signature Nantucket red trousers will wonder why they weren’t invited, at very least, to the after party.
Chatham is a pretty little hamlet. The average age in the off season is about 70. Hydrangeas of all colors line white picket fences and shingled cottages are filled with family antiques and mummy’s pearls. Folks not born here, and that includes summer residents of 50 or more years, are called “washashores”. As in, you are not from here, so behave like a good guest and then, please leave. It is a place steeped in genteel civility and common courtesy. Politics are not allowed at the polished-to-a-high-sheen mahogany dining table. As the old adage goes about New England Episcopalians, Chatham’s foundation is held secure in “God’s Frozen People”. Until yesterday.
Yesterday, Chatham’s serenity was riven, smashed into a hundred pieces like a carelessly dropped plate from Grandmama’s china. Lots of “new money” nouveau riche persons descended on the charm of that old world pile known as the Chatham Bars Inn. Look it up. It’s been here awhile. Their dining rooms, until fairly recently, required ties for“ gentlemen” and dresses for “ladies”. Which is why I never ate there. I have a few nice frocks, but only I get to dictate when I wear them. Full stop. First of all, there was the tent. Not your garden variety canvas tent with flaps and a dance floor. This was made of glass and metal. Approximately the size of the Lincoln Memorial. It was erected right next to the sea’s edge. The entire Inn was closed to the hoi poloi. Unless your name was Mellon or Obama, your chances of entry were slim and none. My friend Laureen, a cashier at the Stop and Shop, told me to drive up the Shore Rd and take a peek. Egad! Not a single item went unaccounted for. Tight security. Old Cape Cod pretty, High tech finance. In short, the family of the bride won the jackpot. The groom’s dad picked up the check, which local sources are estimating at $9M. Mr. Motorola and Federal Reserve.
What do 9 million big ones net on the matrimonial circuit? For one, crooner Bruno Mars as the entertainment at the reception. Rumors aplenty are saying that Andrea Bocelli sang the Ave Maria. But I haven’t confirmed that. Watch this space. I still need my smelling salts. I hope the happy couple signed iron clad pre-nups. My guess is that each guest got a sweet swag bag. Needless to say, folks here are still agog.
Big doings here in the late season. Lots of celebrity sightings. It’s the quiet time that year rounders savor. The up side? This will make up for a lackluster Covid spring for local businesses. Money gushed into the Lower Cape economy last night like a hose on a power washer. Merchants were counting receipts with religious fervor. Suddenly, even in the hushed parlors of Chatham, “their” cash was as green as those with names like Nickerson, Bearse and Eldredge. What a gift. Even daddy’s trust fund couldn’t equal this lovely infusion of cold, hard greenback dollars. Villagers surreptitiously pressed noses against the glass and hoped to catch a glimpse of what enormous wealth looks like. Staggering and unfathomable.
I do not judge the extravagance. But I wonder if, in the light of day, I would want its burden. Well, maybe just for a week or two. Or three.
Caption: The Chatham Bars Inn.