Monday, July 25, 2005

Them Bells

In the twilight of this busiest of perennial seasons of marriage, I reflect. Rigidly premeditated through the coldest of winter months, countless couples fuss over the most negligible of details in hopes of the perfect display. Imagined as the singular day when one can look back with yearning as a time with somewhat magical properties – the truth is often more realistic. Any day with so much riding on it is prone to the delights of inevitability. In the end, the factors working against are just too powerful. Over the past year, I’ve come to know the significant role of feuding families and drunken friends in shattering the illusions of rosy pretense and enchanting order. I’ve seen well-oiled meticulously devised plans fray and collapse under the weight of veracity. In fact this seems to be the rule and not the exception… and frankly, it’s for the best.

This year has taken me across the Province. From rural fire halls to posh suburban golf courses to school dorms, I’ve survived the wedding circuit and all its delicious offerings. In the span of four months, I’ve been sauced with a bona fide carnie, overdosed on Newfoundland Screech, lost a pair of pants and attended the finest of Montreal’s cultural establishments.

…and all of this in the name of the good lord’s sacrosanct institution no less.

Imbibing a wedding with a bit of the drink is a prerequisite with rum and coke being the recommended choice. Sophisticated yet utilitarian, this clash of Jamaican ingenuity and Deep South creativity not only helps to liven up the proceedings, but serves well in keeping your wits about you in beating off suspiciously underage bridesmaids and dealing with the incessant drivel of the smugly educated and frantically single. It also aids in converting the often obligatory bland Muzac into something more palatable.

All this chaos has taught me one thing. A wedding is a celebration of who you are, not who you wish you could be. The best weddings are the ones that accept and include the realities of families and friends… and the pair themselves. Despite what the execs at any good marketing firm or the proprietors of those innumerable rags would tell you, weddings aren’t just about magical bliss. They’re about coming to terms with what you’re in for – an initiation of sorts. In many ways, weddings are humanity at its natural, most exemplary peak. It’s not about duty and good conduct, it's about surviving. For the rest of us, our role is simply to rise to the occasion and partake in the festivities with the vigor of Gordie Tapp's 'Main Street Jamboree'. Now that's a fête... and a wedding I will fondly remember.

This year I’ve been lucky.

3 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

you seem to be enjoing these weddings with the red necks of red necks.

have fun in boston

masteraid

9:21 PM  
Anonymous Free all Monkey papers said...

As one of the newly betrothed, should I take offence at being called a red neck, or should I just assume that masteraid hasn't quite mastered the idea of dramatic effect, irony or sarcasm....?

11:28 AM  
Blogger Dick said...

I believe your second assumption is the correct one.

And take that as a serious compliment.

8:17 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home