May I Present Mr. & Mrs..."

"Way back when," my desirous intention was to post my on-going, evolving reactions to all things related to the title of "Father-Of-The-Bride-To-Be." And like all good intentions not acted upon in a timely manner, mine ended up on that well traveled dusty road to Purgatory. The awesome and humbling honor to walk my baby girl down the aisle and relinquish her to the keeping of another on behalf of her Mother and me is now a fait accompli; she having been presented in Holy Matrimony to her betrothed on March 10th past. Although my official title has now been elevated to Father-Of-The-Bride, I believe it beneficial and, by all means, fun to reminisce about my personal observations and experiences as the countdown of months and weeks elapsed until the arrival of "the day."

First... Fathers-Of-The-Bride-To-Be have very little purpose, function or responsibilities to perform during the pre-marital, ever on-going planning and preparation phase. Remaining perpetually silent and out of the way I found to be the best course of behavior when the subject of wedding planning and preparation came to the fore, which, as I observed, was the major topic of conversation for the eighteen months leading up to "the day." I was also advised by several current Father's-Of-The-Bride of noted tenure that standing in the corner like a marbled statue of fatherly virtue, with pen and checkbook ready in hand, is an attribute that would be expected, admired and greatly appreciated. Although for me, that responsibility was principally and more than capably administered by my bride of 28 years, as she squeezed every last financial asset into submission to assure daughter Megan's wedding was a memorable one.

If there is a first, there has to be a second... There are two television shows that I am convinced air 24/7; "Say 'Yes' To The Dress" and "Bridezilla" (with some fanciful documentary about over-the-top Gypsy weddings tossed in for good measure). My Judi does not possess an addictive personality to any perceivable degree, but if she was in a room with a television, one of these shows was on and a critical critique of each episode was sure to follow. Some where in my murky ancestral past there must have been a feline flirtation because curiosity overcame my better sense of leaving well enough alone and I actually accompanied Judi in viewing a couple segments.

My assessment? It is a train wreck! As evidenced by the trials and tribulation that daughter Megan endured before finally selecting her beautiful dress (pictured above), I am fully aware that one does not just tut-tut down to Lula's Ready-To-Wear, Wedding Gown Sales Barn and pick off the rack the wedding dress of one's dreams. What some of the girls/women put themselves through on this television show in order to arrive at their final choice was at times sadly funny and too often excruciatingly painful. General Sherman brought less folks to the gala sacking of Atlanta than some of these brides-to-be brought with them for their fittings. Just a couple of these shows was all I could stomach before consigning myself once again to assume my more comfortable and obscure post in the corner.

Very few times during the planning and preparation was I strongly advised that my opinion and thus presence would be welcomed in the task of making final decisions on matters pertaining to the ceremony and the reception to follow. One such excursion usurped my usual cherished Sunday afternoon nap as daughter, son-in-law-to-be, Greg, and wife Judi sallied forth to finalize flowers, cakes and caterer. My valued contribution to the outing, as near as I can figure, was to serve as chauffeur and plumber. (The lady proprietor of the flower shop had a toilet that would not stop running. I fixed the problem. She was grateful.)

Much to my pleasant surprise, Megan and Greg had made the decision that the wedding was to be a less formal occasion. This meant, in layman's terms, "No Tuxedos For The Men." Hooray!! Fortunately I had previously purchased from that fashion shop of renown, J.C. Penny's, a nice blue, pin-striped suit, which I assumed could be whipped out of its really spiffy plastic suit cover bag thirty minutes before the fateful walk down the aisle and everyone would acknowledge that God was smiling down from on high and everything was perfectly in balance with the world. "Oh contrair, mon ami." Not according to my wife. "This will never do," she proclaimed. "The pants have cuffs. We can't have cuffs. And the coat sleeves are too long and don't show any shirt!" That is one of the basic and necessary reasons why men have wives...so they don't show up at some willy-nilly social function looking like they were the last clown to fall out of the Volkswagen bus at the circus. After a couple of alteration trail and errors, I must admit that thanks to the insistence of my persistent and wise wife, I did look quite studly in my tailored suit.

At long last the "Big Day" finally arrived. Daughter and Dad stood poised to make that much anticipated slow walk down the aisle. Megan has always demonstrated a deeply embedded sense of self-confidence and a keen awareness of what she wants and how she wants it. Megan and Greg's theme for the evening festivities was one of simplicity and country-fare; a gathering of dear friends and family in mutual celebration of two lives joined as one. "No drama" was her dictate and desire. But standing together hand-in-hand, awaiting our cue to process forward to her new future as a married lady, that outward exterior of total control belied the little girl inside squeezing my hand ever so tightly. "I'm so nervous," she whispered and I, in attempt to lighten the moment, suggested that "compared to a root channel, this wasn't a bad alternative." "Don't look at me," she whispered more emphatically, and then we stepped forward to her new chosen destiny. "Who gives this woman to be married?" "Her Mother and I." A kiss on her cheek and a hug to my new son-in-law, and my duty as the father of my beautiful little girl gave way to the young man now holding her hand in his.

The reception that followed was a joyous celebration indeed, filled with good food, laughter and fellowship. Two of my very dearest and cherished friends honored Megan, Greg, Judi and me with their participation. Greg Crane, who performed the wedding ceremonial rites, and David Wilbanks, who offered the prayer blessing. As tradition dictates, I was assigned the welcomed duty to offer a toast to the married couple. Megan had given me her suggested guidelines as to how the toast should be delivered; "Humorous, but not silly. Serious, but not too so." The contents of that toast (the text of which shall appear in a follow up post) invoked from the attentive audience the much hoped for laughter, sighs and not a few empathic tears, some of which were my own. And then after the dancing was done...the evening drew to a close. All in all a most wonderful celebratory experience for all.

I have no doubt that I am glossing over many other events that transpired between the announcement of the wedding date and the actual event. But it is my intention here to highlight and preserve for prosperity a select few of the occurrences and events that touched my limited role as the Father-of-the-Bride. Overall, for me, it was a hoot.

And now, may I present, Mr. and Mrs. Gregory Morgan. Have a great life together, you too. Mom and I are so very proud and happy for you both.