Fade To Black

It was unseasonably warm that day in the late spring of 1982, as we gathered in a small church in Monroe, Michigan. It was the wedding of my oldest brother Mike to his beautiful fiance Marilyn. OK, maybe it wasn't unseasonably warm; heck, I was only 13 at the time and my memory fails, but I'm sticking with the heat deal. It was hot.

Before I go any further, I'm going to take a moment to tell you about a little interesting fact within the Gibson family. With the exception of Julie and I, everyone in my family married someone with the same first initial. For example, my dad and mom are Bill and Bernice, and the rest of the family follows as Mike (Marilyn), Tim (Terri), Dan (Denean), Kathy (Keith), and, well, then there is Julie and me. However, I say it still works for Julie and I since I would go by the name PJ as a kid, which would make the whole Pat & Julie deal work. But I digress...

So, at the tender, innocent age of 13 (yes, I was innocent at one time) I was called upon to be in the wedding. While I had already been in Tim & Terri's wedding two years earlier it was still a nerve-racking event. I knew I was going to have to dance with my bridesmaid, which was not one of my strong suits (and still isn't), and I was also sure I would forget where I needed to be during the ceremony. So, needless to say, I my heart was I'm sure racing throughout the hours leading up to the service.

All was going well and we were standing at the front of the church, my brother Dan was on one side of me, I can't remember who was on the other side. Now, keep in mind it was HOT that day, like 120 degrees or something like that with 200% humidity, and my monkey suit was not made of a wicking material. I don't think I had eaten for a week or had anything to drink since I was 12, and the collar of my shirt was about two inches too small. Ok, I think that's all my excuses. Oh, and I had just done an Ironman the day before. Yeah, that's the ticket.

So, as I was saying, everything was moving along all hunky-dory when I noticed that someone was slowly turning down the lights in the church. I thought that was rather odd, but maybe they were setting the mood. Weddings are darn romantic, you know - a fact not foreign to 13-year old boys. Anyway, the lights continued to go down until it became completely dark in the church. I couldn't see a thing!

While this was going on, I apparently developed a bit of a sway as I stood there, bobbing around like a buoy in the midst of the perfect storm. Did I mention it was hot that day? Like 130 degrees and 500% humidity.

The sway I didn't notice but the fact that the church was completely black was not lost on me. I turn what I think was in the direction of my brother Dan and promptly tell him, "Dan, I can't see! Dan, I can't SEE!" This would be a good time to panic, which I'm sure I did in good measure. It seemed obvious to me that no one else was having this same blindness issue, but then again, how would I know! I couldn't see anybody!

At this point, I believe Dan leans over to me and asks what I had said. Even in this immense state of distress I was using my indoor voice, which is remarkable considering I WAS BLIND! I don't recall answering him. The next thing that I have some slight recollection about was being outside the church, where the world slowly came into focus. It was at this point that my sister-in-law Terri mentioned that she saw me swaying, and, realizing we weren't in a Baptist church and that I wasn't part of a gospel choir, she assumed something wasn't right. Quick thinking on her part.

I guess she got to me at just the right time, as my legs were about to turn into Jell-O, and just prior to doing my best Gumby impersonation. I was apparently on the verge of fainting, at which point my mother yells out from her pew "Are you pregnant?!" Actually, that last part I made up, my mom didn't really ask me that then. That came later.

I remember sitting outside the church, trying to calm myself down, only to be stressing about how I was sure I had ruined their wedding. As it turns out, they had no idea all this was going on as I was behind them. Not sure when they found out, but they were quite supportive. Good people, I tell you, good people.

If you've never fainted, and I guess the jury is still out on whether or not I actually did (do you need to hit the ground like a bag of wet cement for it to count?), it's an interesting experience. It's right up there with getting the wind knocked out of you, also a feeling that you are in control of absolutely nothing.

So, as I reminisce about that HOT, HOT, HOT day in the spring of 1982, I send out a sincere Happy 25th Anniversary to Mike and Marilyn. Oh, and be careful of the heat, it can sneak up on you, especially if you've just done an Ironman, and haven't eaten in 9 months, and are wearing shirts made for people half your size....