Monday, August 13, 2007

The Big Day Part 1 (Something That We Do)

I remember well the day we wed
I can see that picture in my head
I still believe the words we said
Forever will ring true
Love is certain, love is kind
Love is yours and love is mine
But it isn't something that we find
It's something that we do

It's holding tight, lettin' go
It's flying high and laying low
Let your strongest feelings show
And your weakness, too
It's a little and a lot to ask
An endless and a welcome task
Love isn't something that we have
It's something that we do
-Clint Black

It’s days like today for which God provides country music.

Frank, one of my fellow groomsmen, was gracious enough to board me during my stay in NJ, and since his pad was closest to the church, the groom, the best man and the groomsmen converged there around 11 am for coffee, bagels and to put on our super hero costumes.

Studs and cufflinks. I have never accessorized so much in my life. The Air Force dress blues doesn’t have this much bling.

We arrived at the church about an hour before liftoff. My task was to look out for the arrival of the Ladybug and her entourage, and to tell the best man so he can hide the groom in a secure, undisclosed location.

Cuteness alert: The bridesmaid which I was escorting is a wonderful married lady with four children (three boys, one girl) under the age of seven. The little girl was the flower girl and the three boys were the ring bearers and Bible bearer. The little boys were all tuxed up and getting restless (so was I) but they were able to maintain their military bearing.

The disco limo arrived with the bridesmaids, the mother of the bride and mother of the groom and the Ladybug in adorned in a beautiful wedding dress. (I have already described the bridesmaids as Stunning, Beautiful, Radiant, and Gorgeous. Find an adjective higher than that and apply it to the Ladybug in her matrimonial glory.)

I shouted to the best man and the groom, “Gentlemen, the balloon is up!” The Fly was then whisked away.

My next duty was to escort the mother of the groom to her seat. I first met the Fly’s mom seventeen years ago on the first day of school at good old RU. The young Fly was a new freshman (And when I say “young”, I mean it. It was the day before his seventeenth birthday) and I was the preceptor AKA resident advisor AKA dorm daddy. As a 31-year-old junior, I was probably closer to his mom’s age than to his. The Fly’s mom gave me a solemn charge that day to watch over the young man. More details of this story are here.

To be continued…I need to actually do some work.

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