A Kentucky Wedding

My daughter Laura and her partner, Brian Jackson, decided finally to get married, a decision we had wished for a long time. They live in Kentucky, and everyone knows that Kentucky, although lovely, is a really different state, not just of mind but of habit and speech. The wedding was about as unplanned and informal an affair as I've ever seen. Unplanned, but wonderful in a funny, happy Kentucky way. It was set for around 4:30 Saturday afternoon. On Friday, she began making her wedding cake and finished it in a flash, and it was beautiful—four layers in two tiers with light yellow frosting, and peach-colored flowers, and the cutest frog couple on top. Laura is one of the fastest, most proficient cake makers of all time. There, the cake was done. She bought Brian's ring and her wedding dress at 1:00 Saturday afternoon. Neither of them seemed to be anxious about the approaching deadline And it all came off without a hitch. In fact, the day was chilly and overcast, but when I led her from the house and up the hill to where the justice-of-the-peace, Brian, and Brian’s father stood, accompanied not by “Here Comes the Bride” but most appropriately for this happy occasion by "Dueling Banjos," the clouds parted and the sun shone . . . for exactly fifteen minutes, after which the clouds melded again. It was like a quarter hour blessing on the union. They were married in their back yard under a huge oak tree, the vows tying in with trees and roots and leaves in a wonderful extended metaphor. The groom wore overalls and the bride was in a tiny floral dress and top, and because the ground leading up to the tree was too soft for the heels she was wearing, Laura kicked off her shoes and became a barefoot Kentucky beauty. Don’t misunderstand and think this was in any way mocking the solemnity of wedlock. Oh, how I hate that word, “wedlock.” It sounds too much like the clamping on of handcuffs and chains, and that’s not what marriage is about. Laura interrupted the justice halfway along and brought out from a pocket in her dress a silver flask, asking for just a moment. She handed it to Brian, who took a swallow, handed it to the justice, who took a swallow, and then herself took a swallow, after which the ceremony continued. After the “You may now kiss the bride,” after the kiss, after the congratulatory applause, Brian told me later he was worried that when I was asked “Who gives this woman?” I might have said, “I do, but I don’t think I will.” I assured him that I was happy, thrilled, to give away the bride. We love our daughter, but we also love Brian. And we couldn’t be happier with this event.