The church was hushed, quiet and reverent. The organ music soft. The bridesmaids sparkled like rubies and one large diamond (the bride) glistened in the setting. The pink flowers and white candles enhanced the elegance of the evening. The handsome men in their black tuxedos and burgundy cummerbunds added dash to the traditional picture. The guests were seated slowly. The mothers ushered in, in their long dresses, by proud fathers, grandfathers, and sons. The ceremony began. At one point, the bride and groom were sitting on chairs during the long Catholic rituals, and animatedly chatting to each other in whispers. (What are they talking about? Just the details of the day since they had been apart). At long last, they stood, turned and were presented to their families and friends. A mad dash down the aisle to their new life. But wait, they are walking back in as the guests leave….for pictures. The tear streaked face of the bride’s ten year old brother is captured for posterity (he thought he was losing her forever).
At the reception, the guests in their multi-colored evening, cocktail and afternoon clothing talked excitedly. The music playing was rock chosen by the young couple and the disc jockey encouraged everyone to dance. Pink champagne flowed from a fountain, and the huge platters of meat, cheese, and vegetables gleamed brighter than real life, it seemed. The towering wedding cake belied its initial disappointment when the burgundy icing was perceived to be black. People walked back and forth…to the champagne, to the guest book, to the dance floor, outside for fresh air. Excitement and joy filled the air. Guests crowded the bride and groom to offer their congratulations. When the food was depleted, cake cut, garter and bouquet thrown, the couple left to change their clothing for the trip to their honeymoon. A commotion ensued as the bridegroom’s leaving wardrobe was sought.
Eventually, they reappeared, replete in their going away costumes. The bride looking like Faye Dunaway in a smashing black hat, cornflower blue, black patterned silk dress, black stockings and shoes. The groom, handsome as Steve McQueen in his sport jacket and dark pants (rolled up as his groomsmen was taller-you know, the one he borrowed the pants from). They ran to their car, decorated wildly with shoe polish and cans; JUST MARRIED, through a showerstorm of rice and well-wishers lining the doorway. Suddenly, they are out of the car. Why are Faye Dunaway and Steve McQueen rummaging in the trunk of their car? The guests stand bewildered, unsure as to whether to stay or go. The couple as quickly jump back in, tires squeal, and they are off! A collective sigh from the parents lingers on the evening air.
(This was written shortly after my daughter, Lisa, was married to Mike February 9, 1985).