: Fine Tuning My Daughter's Wedding by: Ed Williams Well folks, I never thought I’d be writing a column like this one, because quite frankly I never thought I’d be this old. This week’s subject matter

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Fine Tuning My Daughter's Wedding

by: Ed Williams


Well folks, I never thought I’d be writing a column like this one, because quite frankly I never thought I’d be this old. This week’s subject matter is going to be a bit of a surprise, and I’m already guessing that some of you will be smiling when I tell you what it is, so off we go:
My daughter Alison, my dear, sweet 21 year old Alison, is engaged to be married!
That’s right, my young daughter is engaged to be married. Isn’t that just amazing? Can you imagine someone as youthful as I having a soon-to-be married daughter? I thought not. And, to tell y’all the truth, I’m quite happy about it. The boy Alison’s going to marry, Dave Wallace, is a fine young man. Will and I have both already vetted him out, and he passes every test, heck, it’s almost like he’s a Williams already. He loves to eat Nu-Way hot dogs, appreciates watching the Rocky Balboa movies over and over again, and is just a genuine, all around good guy. I’m lucky to be having him as a future son-in-law, and he will be just that on June 10, 2006. That’s right, Alison and Dave have already set the date for their marriage. And, as happy as I am about that, I’ve gotta admit that there a few things about these pending nuptials that I’m just not understanding, amongst them are:
Why do weddings have to be planned out so far in advance?
I kid y’all not, this wedding is over a year away, and the planning for it has already begun. First off, I’ve been informed that we have to have a director. A director. When I asked specifically what a wedding director is for, I was told, “To direct the wedding, silly.”
Okay, I guess I asked for that. Anyway, maybe I’m missing out on something, but what is there to direct? The preacher stands up in the sanctuary in the middle of the church and waits. The groom walks in through a side door with his best man at his side. The bride is then escorted up the aisle by her father. The preacher asks who gives the woman away? The father says, “Her mother and I do.” Then the father sits down, watches his child get married, and notes that his bank account is dwindling steadily with each passing moment of the ceremony. It all pretty much sounds like something that could be worked out about a half hour or so beforehand between the participants, so why a director? And don’t throw in all that stuff about bridesmaids and flowers, it sounds like we’re trying to barbeque an elephant when all we need is a sack full of Krystals.
Another thing that I don’t understand is why we have to find a place to have the reception and also find someone to cater it? That makes absolutely no sense to me at all. Why not just find a place that’s already set up to make and serve food all at the same time, you know, just kill both birds with one stone? And why do we want to have it at a big place, which will just encourage more people to hang around even longer and consume more food? My idea is much simpler - I’d simply call my good buddy, Spyros Dermatus, the President of Nu-Way Weiners, and ask him if I could rent out one of his restaurants for say, an hour or two. Then, after the marriage ceremony was over everyone who wanted to could stop by for a couple of tasty Nu-Ways. The drive over and the small size of the Nu-Way restaurant would keep the crowd slimmed down, and we could have Dave and Alison stand just past the ketchup and mustard containers in order to thank anyone who stops by. Sounds like a perfect plan for me.
All in all, though, I guess I don’t have it too bad. I have a lovely daughter who’s going to marry a fine young man, and I‘m grateful for that. I fully support what they‘re doing, so I guess I’ll have to take all this ceremony crapola along with it. Nothing worthwhile ever comes easy, I suppose. And wait, I’ve just been notified that I have to wear a tux for this thing - a tux! I’d rather manually remove a tick from an ape’s heiny than have to wear a tux, and that‘s me being really, really low-keyed about it! Folks, I’ve gotta go now, I’m about to do some major cussin’ and question askin’ here, and hopefully I’ll be finished before next week’s column needs to be written...

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