Hill-Topics
I'm sorry I'm going to miss the state basketball tournament this weekend. But by the time you read this, we'll be in that Nebraska city of happy and enlightened monks, "Omm-a-ha!" for the wedding of our daughter Bethany, 22, and her lucky beau, Joe Dixon, 24, of the same temperament and town. Except, obviously, Joe isn't a monk. He's too tall, and besides, he's getting married, so of course, that would be impossible.
If I sound a little nervous, it's because I had a monk-like revelation of my own Sunday night. I've been imagining my role in the wedding ceremony as watching Bethany coming down the aisle, then tearing up as they say their vows, etc., etc. And all along, my wife and daughter have been telling me, "You're in the wedding. You're in the wedding."
But like that guy in the Sonic commercial who tastes the food that's advertised as hot and spicy, then says, "You didn't tell me it was going to be hot!" It hit me: I'm in the wedding!
We were eating popcorn and watching TV when this revelation hit me. My wife looked at me like I was as stupid as a box of rocks.
* * * * *
In 10 years in the ministry, I figure I officiated at about 100 wedding ceremonies. For some reason, I can't remember the father of the bride in any of them walking their daughters down the aisle.
When I was on the platform, I remember the nervous groom and groomsmen at my left, and the maid of honor and bridesmaids on the right. And the little ring bearer and flower girl squirming at my feet. (We always had an adult planted up close in the audience, ready to whisk them away if they went into meltdown mode. Amazingly, they seldom did).
And of course, I remember the organ, going "Taa-tatatata-taaaaa! And saying, "Please rise!" as the wedding march began and the back doors opened and the beautiful bride came forth.
But, do I remember any fathers in this picture? Nope. It's a total blank. Nada. Zilch. I don't recall a single one. Dumb-dumdum-dumb, dummm! Gulp.
"So that's why they wanted me to lose 10-15 pounds."
Not since I marveled at the wondrous coincidence that Thanksgiving always seems to fall on a Thursday had my IQ (ignorance quotient) been so highly visible. This was the pinnacle, top of the pole. The only thing worse than admitting all of this to Claire, would have been if I'd been in the dark all the way to the rehearsal, and Bethany had heard me say, "I'm in the wedding?" She would have bawled.
My brain swelled up like a Jiffy Pop lid, I said to Claire, "But they won't be looking at me, honey. They'll be looking at the bride."
"Of course, dear," Claire said, adding, "But you could still lose five pounds if you ate nothing but carrots and drank water for the next week. Women lose five pounds in a week all the time."
I imagined myself, standing up there at the altar, light-headed and gaunt from lack of food. And just as the minister says, "And who will give this woman to be married to this man?" Boom! Going down, like a bag of rocks. (At least we'd get to keep her instead of giving her away).
We munched our popcorn in silence. The thought of eating carrots crossed my mind. "You know Claire, since I've already been fitted for my tux, it wouldn't fit if I lost that much weight."
"Right," she said.
Anyway, in addition to the walking down the aisle and the big give-away, I've been asked to say a prayer during the worship portion of the wedding ceremony; to make a toast at the rehearsal dinner, and, of course, to dance the first dance with the bride at the reception. I've been practicing the waltz, a little. And the last time Bethany was in town, we practiced in the living room, and she seemed happy with my performance. I'm sure they'll be watching the bride then, too.
I plan to keep the toast in the right pocket of my tux, the prayer in the left. I hope I don't mix that up. Imagine me standing up with my glass held high, gazing upon the happy couple, saying, "Dear Lord, let us pray!"
Hopefully, we'll get it straightened out at the rehearsal.
* * * * *
I've been through about 100 reheasals, too. I'll never forget the one where the couple to be married were both in the Navy and stationed in Virginia, and they wanted to have a full-blown church wedding back here in Kansas, while on a brief shore leave from their respective boats, before shipping out again, on separate boats, on the high seas.
I kid you not.
Talk about your marriage nightmares, what a shipwreck! Why? Because the daughter asked the mother who lived here to handle, get this, all of the wedding arrangements for her.
I'm not making this up.
Daughter wanted mom to handle the bridesmaids' dresses, caterer, flowers, and all that. Even her wedding dress! "Just pick something nice, Mom," she told her.
Now even if mother and daughter had gotten along famously, like Claire and Bethany do, it would've been Mission Impossible.
But as time went on, it was disclosed that mother and daughter weren't exactly on the same page in their relationship.
In fact, I discovered that when the daughter ran off to join the Navy, they weren't even on speaking terms. And to make things worse, although they had never met, the mother didn't like the groom, and the groom hated his future mother-in-law.
But Mom thought she could make everything right by putting together the perfect wedding.
When the bride and groom got there for the wedding rehearsal on the Friday evening before the wedding, they were tired and edgy from the long drive from Virginia they'd made in a small rental car.
They pulled up just before the rehearsal was to begin, giving me little time for me to meet them, before others began to arrive. Mom was a few minutes late, as you can imagine.
The daughter yelled at her.
The son-in-law glared.
I began with prayer.
During the rehearsal, the bride pulled me aside to let me in on a bit more drama. She'd jilted a guy who still lived in town, and he had threatened to kill the groom at the wedding. Not to worry, she said. The bride had asked some of her biker friends to guard the church doors.
I'll never forget the red blotches on the mother's neck and forearms, or the nervous tick she had developed that made her look as if she was wincing every time she blinked. But we got through the ceremony. The dress fit. We kept the mother and the groom apart.
And, the murderer didn't make it to the church on time.
Bride and groom got back in their car and headed back to the eastern shore. Bon voyage! Mom was left to clean up, and to return the tuxes to the rental store.
By comparison, I'm sure Bethany and Joe's wedding will be a piece of cake.
* * * * *
When I was growing up, a lady down the block made wedding cakes for a living. She'd trim the cakes before frosting them, and give us the scraps to snack on. From that day to this, wedding cake has been my most favorite. So on Saturday, I plan to have two, or three pieces.
Maybe even more.
— GRANT OVERSTAKE
